#in case you’re wondering what it is that gave me this impression

[ro-vs-usernames]

I’m rereading this short story I wrote about a year ago, and I’m afraid I made it fairly obvious that there is something Deeply Wrong with me

[justwinginglife]

The LADS Men React To You Saying You Can't Have S*X Because Of Mismatching Underwear

NSFW WARNING

Sylus

Sylus knows in an instant that you’re messing with him but he plays along, a sly smirk sitting pretty on his lips. “Oh NO- your underwear set doesn’t match? Whatever shall we do?” After clicking a few buttons on his phone, he stands to grab his car keys (one out of many).

“Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?” You ask, brows furrowing. The sudden change in the atmosphere has you feeling like, at any moment, you might get whiplash. One minute, he’s kissing up your neck, squeezing at your thighs, grinding his raging erection into your crotch, and the next, he’s throwing on his jacket, zipping his pants back up, and getting ready to leave. 

“You mean where are we going, kitten.” He speaks like it’s only obvious. 

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are we leaving? I thought you just wanted to have sex not two seconds ago.”

“Of course, dearest, but we can’t have sex if you’re feeling embarrassed, now can we? So I thought I’d just buy the nearest lingerie store and we could go pick out whatever you like.” 

You choke on your spit. “You did WHAT?”

“I said I bought the store. So let’s go.” His eyes are daring you to continue with your little charade.

“Well I…I kinda wanted to stay home tonight.” You say weakly. You know you’re making a pathetic case for yourself, but he’s really not allowing you the wiggle room to be more convincing.

“Then allow me to have all of their stock delivered to the house. Unless… you think that the mismatching underwear is no longer an issue?” 

Oh, this son of a bitch. “You… you really don’t have to do all of this just for me.” You say with an awkward laugh. He knows you’re all out of moves and you’re just pivoting at this point. He knows and he has the audacity to be amused. 

“Oh, but I did, kitten. I wouldn’t want to overlook this very important issue. What’s important to you is important to me.”

“It’s, uh, not actually that important…” You confess meekly. 

“Say that again, sweetie?” He cranes his head to hear you better but you know damn well he can hear you just fine.

You glare at him. “I said it’s fine.”

He chuckles, sweet satisfaction clear on his face. “So then. Does this mean we can pick up where we left off?”

Caleb

You’ve been teasing Caleb all day. 

Dancing into his field of view with that low neckline of yours, wearing a dress that’s so short, it’s a wonder it’s covering anything at all. Touching him here and there, your fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch, trailing up his biceps, or down his back, before flitting away like you’d never been there in the first place.

So, of course, after hours of edging him towards an excruciating erection, his self control still intact (though holding on by mere splintered pieces), you decide to reward his good behavior. You straddle him on the couch, and slowly begin to slide your hips back and forth, dragging your clothed cunt across the admittedly-impressive bulge in his pants.

He swears he’s seeing heaven, when you finally allow his aching cock some much needed friction. He’s not proud to say that a little dry humping is all it takes to get him coming into his pants, but he’s sure you’ll continue to show him such endless bliss as the night goes on that he won’t even remember how many times he’s come, let alone that the first time was in his underwear. His head dips forward, steadying itself on your shoulder as he allows the wave of euphoria to wash over him. 

But the second the wave has come and gone, his arousal is already flaring back up in his gut, ready for round two, round ten, round however much you want. All he can think about is how perfect it’ll be when he finally sinks himself inside you, your wet heat enveloping him until all he can feel is you. He doesn’t even think that maybe you’re more devious than he gave you credit for.

After he’s come, you retreat almost immediately, pulling yourself off of him.

He whines pathetically and he fumbles as he attempts to grab hold of you.

“Baby, we can’t tonight.” You say, innocent as ever.

He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, tries to restrain his very evident need for you, but desperation is quickly rising within him. “Why not?” 

You try to keep the smirk from your lips. “It’s just…I’m not…”

“You’re not what, love? Not feeling well? Not in the mood?” He hopes you don’t notice how badly he just wants you to spit it out. 

“I’m not wearing matching undergarments tonight. So we can’t.” And there it is. The goal you’ve had all night. The little trick you couldn’t wait to play on him. You’re thrilled to see how he’ll react.

His eyes darken in an instant. “Oh, you little minx. You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” His tone has dropped to a low growl. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You say, feigned ignorance dripping from your lips. 

He gives a short laugh. “Sure you don’t. Well, if your mismatching underwear is the only issue-” He begins to kiss down your neck harshly, not bothering to take care where he leaves his marks, “-I’ve got just the solution.” His fingers find your dress’s zipper with expert precision and before you can even process that he’s taken ahold of it, the dress is already laying in a pile on the ground. Along with your bra and panties. 

“There. All better. Now your underwear matches- they’re both on the damn floor.” 

Rafayel

You’re starting to think that you lie just a little too well.

You had only meant to tease Rafayel when you had told him that the reason you couldn’t have sex tonight was because you were embarrassed that your bra didn’t match your underwear, but you didn’t expect him to take you completely seriously. What was even more unexpected was that he would go on to give you an entire art lecture in the process.

“Take Picasso, for instance. Brilliant artist. One of a kind. You know him, of course you do, everybody knows him. His work is asymmetrical, and yet you don’t see anybody telling him that his work isn’t beautiful because it doesn’t match.”

“Raf-”

“And take my work. My work isn’t always symmetrical either, but would you tell me that I’m anything less than a true genius? No, because I am. See?”

“That’s besides the point-“

“The point, cutie, is that you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing. It’s okay that you didn’t plan a matching outfit today. Some of nature’s most stunning scenes are spontaneous. You wouldn’t complain to the sunset that its pink doesn’t match its orange, would you?”

“No, but I-”

“Exactly. So it doesn’t matter to me if you’re wearing mismatching underwear; you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you. Do you understand now, cutie?”

“Raf, baby, there’s nothing to understand, I was just jo-“

“Okay, if you don’t understand, let me put it in simpler terms for you. I’m hard for you regardless. That make sense now?”

When he puts it that bluntly, you really want to jump his bones. At this point, you figure you might as well. It’s useless to try and explain to him that you were only joking- not after he’s given you such a lengthy (though thoughtful) monologue. Though he’s a bit dense today, he’s still the same sweet Rafayel you fell in love with. So you think you’ll reward him for his kindness.

“You know what, baby? You made me feel so much better, thank you. I think, to show you just how much better I feel-” You strip yourself naked for him and his jaw drops, his eyes hungrily raking over your bare form, “-I’ll even let you come inside me tonight. What do you think?” You purr seductively.

You really didn’t have to try so hard to seduce him.

He’s already dropped his pants and begun stumbling towards you, rapidly hardening cock in hand.

Xavier

You’re in the middle of a very heated makeout session with Xavier when you decide to pick on him a little. You can tell where this is going, but you want to drag it out a little longer.

“Xav-” You whine breathlessly. “I think we should,” You return another one of his hungry kisses, “Probably stop for the night.” 

He pulls back to examine you. He can’t tell if you’re messing with him or if you’re genuinely not in the mood. Of course, if you want to stop, he’ll stop. He can just fuck his hand later; he’s not so selfish that he’d make you do something you don’t want to do. But just in case he did something wrong, he decides to ask. “Any particular reason you want to stop?”

“It’s just…” You bite your lip, hoping it makes you appear timid, when really you’re trying not to grin. “My bra and my underwear don’t match. I’m a little embarrassed to show you.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, is that all? Feel free to change them then. I won’t look.” Before you can even respond that it’s a joke, he’s turned his back to you to give you your privacy.

You shake your head, smiling softly at his back. You didn’t expect him to be so sweet. You may as well strip naked while he’s allowing you the time; you had planned to have sex with him anyway. 

What the both of you don’t realize is that your bedroom’s full length mirror is angled just right so that he can still see you even when you’re behind him. He looks up only to get a perfect view of you undressing. When he realizes he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, he starts to look away. But then he catches a glimpse of your mismatching underwear. Cherries decorate the soft material of your panties, while your bra is littered with little bows all the way around. Heat surges through his groin and he realizes that for some reason, this combination of mismatching underwear is doing something to him. 

You finish pulling your shirt off all the way and reach back to unhook your bra. “You know, I appreciate you being so understanding, my love, but I have to admit- I was completely kidding about not wanting to have sex just because my underwear didn’t match.” 

In an instant -you honestly don’t remember him even having the time to turn all the way around- he’s at your side, gripping your wrist tight and locking you in place. “That’s a relief. Now you don’t have to take off any more.”

You raise a curious brow at him. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want to have sex? I kinda have to take my underwear off for that.”

“No. You don’t.” His tone is low and thick with lust. “The undergarments stay on.” Before you know it, you’re pinned down to the bed.

You don’t know if it’s his teleportation ability or just his pure, unadulterated need, but he seems to be moving rather hastily today. You’ve barely even had time to blink before he’s slipping his cock under your bra, fucking your cleavage while it holds his cock in place. 

Something about you, the girl who always settles for function over fashion, wearing the cutsiest, girliest underwear he’s ever seen makes him harder than he’s ever been before and he’s not stopping until he’s staining this particular set in his cum. 

Zayne

“So we don’t strip naked then. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make you feel good.”

When you originally decided to play this joke on Zayne, telling him that you were feeling just a little too shy today to reveal to him your mismatching underwear, you thought he would see right through your little act. This is the man who has known you almost your entire life, after all.

But after you’d come so many times IN YOUR GODDAMN UNDERWEAR ALONE, all because he had insisted on tending to your needs even with your clothes on, after your clenching walls began to feel rather bruised, your clit increasingly more and more overstimulated with each passing second, as he fingered you through the (soaked) fabric of your clothes yet again, you were starting to regret this decision to mess with him. 

You tried to confess so many times, to tell him you’d been lying, to beg him for his cock instead, but it was almost like he knew what you were trying to say, because he’d kiss you so deeply until you were so dizzy from lack of breath that you forgot what you wanted to say, and then he’d dry hump you until you forgot how to even breathe in the first place. 

When you finally stutter out a pathetic, “P-please Z-Zayne…can’t t-take it anymore. Wanna f-fuck you,” Your hips thrusting desperately against the unsatisfying, thin air, he grins.

In that moment, you realize he’s known you’ve been lying all along. 

He leans over to you and you think he might kiss you. That, or scold you. But either result turns you on, so you hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

He merely peers down your shirt before tugging your pants down slightly to confirm something. “So your underwear does, in fact, match. What an interesting development. Now then…how should I punish you for such dishonest behavior?”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi

[winstonsns]

the gang with a soc!reader

authors note: sorry the last one was kind of all over the place. i tend to ramble when i write so ill try to stay more on topic this time. in this preference, you and the characters will already be a couple :3 im also wondering if people are clicking the hashtags then they see my posts?? so if that’s what’s happening and you can see my posts when you click the hashtags please tell me because i have no idea if it’s working LMAO

includes: ponyboy, johnny, darry, soda, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mild cussing, mentions of fighting/getting jumped

PONYBOY CURTIS

you both are academic BEASTS so you’re somewhat rivals and trying to get to the top of the class

but you’re still together, it’s a healthy relationship

most of the time, you’ll actually walk him home from wherever you are since it’s safe for you to walk home on your own, but since he’s a greaser it’s not safe for him

when you met the gang they taught you how to fight in case some greasers or even some socs tried to fight you

by walking him home, you’ve actually prevented him from getting beat up

you like to take him out to get food or something he wants when he gets a good grade since he gets happy when they’re high

sometimes you’ll get lower grades than him and you two will study together, or reversed

you’ll get him a new book every time he finishes another one, by the end of the year he has a new shelf just filled with books you’ve given him

you occasionally read him to sleep when he’s having a hard time, or again reversed

he falls asleep pretty quickly when you do this and he really appreciates it

you always sit together during assemblies and choose to be each others partner in the classes you have together

if you don’t decide to do track one year you’ll go to his meets, and after you always take him out to eat since you’re proud

if he’s extra tired then he’ll ask to go home so you will

you learned how to cook so he can have big nice meals, along with baking chocolate cake when soda and darry aren’t there to make it

pony thinks you make it better than darry but will never tell him that

he really loves spending time with you and feels like you’re the first person besides johnny to really understand him

you made him think about socs in a different way too, in a good way

yall are just humans doing what you know best, some in different environments and had different parents with different parenting styles

you like to bring him to the best places in tulsa to watch the sunsets

you also get the best polaroids of the sunsets and the colors are so beautiful

JOHNNY CADE

as soon as he told the gang that he was dating someone they were excited for him, then they found out you were a soc

dally told him to break up with you without even knowing you, johnny told him to give you a chance

when johnny invited you to the curtis house to meet his friends, you brought presents for all of them since you wanted to make a good impression

you had your ways about finding what they like and don’t like

they immediately took a liking to you when you gave them presents and a kiss on johnnys cheek

you’d patch him up and give him bandaids to take home after getting beat up by socs or his parents

sometimes you’d give him money and he would use that money to get you something you’ve been wanting for a while

he’s always so thankful for everything you do for him and everything you give him

since your parents don’t really care about the differences between greasers and socs, they let johnny stay over since they know things are rough at home

sometimes they’ll take you and him out for dinner with them and you think it’s so cute

he was nervous your parents wouldn’t like him since most of the socs parents would think he’s gross

he’s always proud of you for naturally getting good grades and seeing the smile on your face when you get your report card

sometimes when he’s upset you two will cuddle in your bed or you’ll drive him to a restaurant or fast food place

he always feels bad about spending your money but you tell him not to feel bad about it since you have more

DARRY CURTIS

things got more financially stable when you came into his life

you’d help him pay groceries and the bills if he was struggling, you also helped around the house

sometimes he’ll wake up to the smell of bacon, waffles, eggs, etc and suddenly its like he doesn’t have to be the responsible one 24/7

having you in his life has improved everything, and his brothers are so thankful to have you there too

you’re like a mother to them and they’re comfortable enough to open up to you

sometimes you’ll ask him out on cute little dates randomly just so he can get a break of hard work

he’ll take the day off and get all dressed up since you told him you were taking him to a really fancy restaurant

occasionally you’ll get your nails done just for your dates and he always notices

you’ll ask him “which color is better” and he’ll say “aren’t they the same?” then you have to explain to him that one is darker than the other

he still doesn’t see the difference but chooses one anyway since he likes to see you happy

he’s literally so in love with you and how you’ll do romantic and domestic things for him

you’re so beautiful and perfect in his eyes, and sometimes he’ll stare at you and his brothers will tease him

he really loves being around you and having you by his side

you also helped him become calmer, that pony and soda have their own problems and darry yelling at them probably just makes them scared

he starts to actually communicate with them and you’ll give him gifts for completing or succeeding because why not

he’s always like “hon, you didn’t have to get me this…” but you can see he’s happy with whatever you give him

he just loves you so much and his brothers love you too but obviously not romantically

SODAPOP CURTIS

people actually think the both of you are socs, i mean they’re half right

they think soda is a soc since he’s so handsome and think you’re a soc because of your mannerisms and how you’re very beautiful

you’ll always visit him at the DX just to hang out with him

your parents love him and how he treats you so they also let him stay over at your house

sometimes when it’s sodas turn to get groceries from the store, you’ll go along with him

he just wants to be around you whenever he can

you’ll offer to pay for the groceries plus stuff he doesn’t need but instead wants

once he got a pimple and he freaked the fuck out

you bought him some cleanser, moisturizer, sunscreen and pimple patches

you taught him how to use them and when, and in which order to use them in

his pimple went away in a few days

since you’re so smart and get good grades, you’ll help pony with his homework sometimes

soda will stare at you helping him from far away, he thinks it’s adorable that you two are bonding

when the two of you are in your room, you’ll play frank sinatra and the little dippers while having a home-date with sweets :3

you two have so much fun and he even opens up to you about his problems

you offer to get him a therapist but he says it’s that bad, you tell him to talk to you if he wants to talk about it again

he legit treats you like a princess and you love it

yall are the most attractive couple EVER no one can tell if they wanna be you or be with you

DALLAS WINSTON

when he realized he liked you he knew he had to protect you with his life

he needed a break from loud and annoying girls, then he found you

you could get quiet at times and you weren’t constantly screaming and acting like an annoying 12 year old boy

you got him to steal less since you could pay for things on your own

he didn’t really listen and still stole money from other people so he could get you things

whenever he got put in prison you could always bail him out due to the money you have

if he had to serve time then you’d give him money so he could spend it and get necessities

you’ll also make diy crafts for him on your guys anniversary and his birthday

he brings you to meetups with the gang, and they love you being there with him

you spoil him rotten and he loves it

makes him feel like a princess, weirdly enough

he’ll steal money to spoil you too, pays for your nails sometimes

you told him you wanted specific flowers once and he got you flowers sometime the next week, he acted nonchalant about it but he loved the happy look on your face

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

sometimes you’re quiet but he always finds a way to bring you to tears after laughing so hard

he’s literally the funniest person you’ve ever met

he never really expected a soc to get so loud since they were normally reserved and didn’t talk to many people

anyway you brought him to fucking disneyland once and he LOVED it

you booked a hotel and everything so yall saw mickey mouse

two-bit kinda laughed at him but he seemed happy so he didn’t care

he loves traveling with you and brags about it to the gang all the time

they say it’s cool then act like they don’t care but they’re kinda jealous he gets all that stuff

they’re happy for him though

sometimes you’ll get him little mickey figurines and he’ll put them on his nightstand, sometimes even carry it with him if it’s a keychain

he never would’ve expected a soc to be so nice to someone like him

he’s really glad that you love him and you show it

STEVE RANDLE

before you two started dating he tried to avoid you at all costs

he kinda thought you’d beat up him and his friends so he just stayed away from you

anyway when you guys started dating you’d drive him to the DX

you’d give him tips just for fun even if you didn’t buy anything from him

you’d buy him all sorts of little trinkets and such just so he’d have something to mess around with

i don’t have a lot of knowledge on him bro pls bear with me LMAO

he’s almost always with soda so you kind of became his best friend naturally

you’ll buy steve food on his breaks and drive him to restaurants or fast food places and you’ll eat on a bench or in a field together

you talk about some shit that happened at work while he listens

he’ll occasionally get you some food since he knows you like sweets

then you repay him with something he’s wanted for a while that he’s been asking for

whether it’s a book or food or a trinket idk

he loves you so much and is glad soda gets along with you so well

sorry this one’s shorter! i’ll try to make the preference longer next time. i’m gonna try to post at least twice per week but if im feeling good ill try to post more 💗 thank you for reading!

[himasgod]

hello!! It’s me again who requested the Leona and leech twins one

I have another request. I was wondering if you make make Ace Trappola x Deuce’s Sister reader. Reader is basically raised to be kind, gentle, graceful, and angelic (like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty). Also described to be pretty

plot: Reader goes to visit Deuce for his birthday and enters the Heartslabyul Garden looking for him and the dorm members are like “God damn, who is that?” because they thought she was pretty and also wondering why was she here, meanwhile Deuce and Ace were just hanging out and stumble upon Reader, Deuce already knows why she’s here and says hi, and then, Ace is like “Woah, you’re pretty” and Reader is like “Huh?”. After that, Deuce and reader hangout together for his birthday while Ace is just there because why not and just the whole day he tries to impress reader with stuff. After reader goes back home, Ace is like “Damn I think I like her”

if you want you could also put riddle being like “IF ANYONE TRIES TO HIT ON THE LADY, IT’LL BE OFF WITH YOUR HEAD” lol 😂

ACE X READER

Where you are Deuce's sister

Where you visit Deuce at NRC for his birthday and meet Ace, leaving him smitten with you…

Deuce x Reader where you are Ace's sibling, in case you're interested <3

The sun was kind to Heartslabyul today.

The garden was full of chatter of dorm members cleaning up after a tea meeting, when a presence entered. Not just any presence.

You wore soft colors, your steps too quiet, too elegant for someone navigating the hedge-lined pathways of Heartslabyul.

Long lashes kissed your cheeks, and your voice gentle chimed with a polite,

“Excuse me?”

Several Heartslabyul students froze. Trey, mid-wipe on a teacup, nearly dropped it. Cater’s phone, raised for a selfie, lowered slowly as his gaze followed the visitor.

“Bro,” Cater whispered. “Am I hallucinating, or did a princess just walk into the garden?”

“You’re not hallucinating,” Trey murmured, blinking twice. “She’s real. She walked past the flamingos. And they didn’t even try to bite her.”

The dorm members exchanged glances.

“...Why is she here?”

“Is she lost?”

“Wait—is she a noble?!”

And just when things couldn’t grow more chaotic, Riddle stepped into view. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the disruption of order.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, striding forward. “Why has a guest entered the dormitory garden alone?! No one informed me!”

The girl in question turned, folding your hands in front of you politely, dipping your head.

“I’m terribly sorry to intrude. I was only looking for my brother.”

Riddle blinked. “Your brother?”

“Deuce Spade...?”

Meanwhile...

“Okay, hear me out,” Ace said, arms behind his head as he walked beside Deuce. “What if, for your birthday, we don’t go to the cafeteria and instead steal a pie from Trey’s secret stash?”

Deuce groaned. “We are not stealing from Trey on my birthday. Also, what kind of present is that?”

“A delicious one.”

“I’m seriously starting to wonder how we’re friends.”

“Because I make your boring life more interesting.”

Deuce just shook his head, used to the banter. But before Ace could make another sarcastic remark, they rounded the corner— And Deuce immediately lit up.

“Sis?!”

There you stood, your smile sweet as you clasped your hands together.

“Happy birthday, Deucey,” you said softly, walking over and wrapping your arms around him.

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You really came all this way? Wow—I mean, wow! I didn’t think Mom would let you come here alone.”

“She didn’t. She gave me a three-page list of rules before I left.”

Ace stood dumbfounded, staring.

You turned to him—and he actually did a double take.

The way your eyes sparkled in the sun. The soft sway of your hair. The gentle smile on your lips. The way you blinked at him, waiting.

“Huh?” you said, confused by his silence.

Ace blurted,

“Woah, you’re pretty.”

You tilted your head.

“Oh—thank you. You’re…very kind.”

Deuce scowled and lightly elbowed his friend.

“Don’t flirt with my sister.”

“I’m not flirting!” Ace snapped, going a bit red. “I was just being honest.”

Deuce raised a brow. “That was flirting.”

“It was appreciation.”

Meanwhile, you just giggled behind your hand.

Deuce had originally planned to hang out with Ace for his birthday, but with you here, everything shifted. Still, Ace somehow remained glued to the group.

“Are you seriously tagging along the entire day?” Deuce muttered, watching Ace juggle two apples (badly).

“What, you gonna say no to free entertainment for the birthday princess?”

“I’m not a princess,".

Ace grinned, finally dropping one apple and catching the other with flair.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Deuce groaned into his hands.

At the tea party Trey begrudgingly whipped up to “salvage” the Heartslabyul schedule, Ace tried to pour your tea—with one hand—and nearly spilled it all over Riddle’s tablecloth.

“I said one inch from the top!” Riddle barked. “One more mistake and it’s OFF WITH YOUR HEAD! And if anyone dares flirt with Lady Spade, I swear—OFF. WITH. YOUR. HEAD.”

Ace gulped.

“N-Noted…”

Trey leaned in. “You do realize that’s Deuce’s sister, right?”

“I do now,” Ace muttered.

“Good luck,” Trey said, patting his shoulder with a knowing smirk. “You’ll need it.”

Late that evening the three of you ended up watching the sun set.

Deuce had excused himself to take a call from your mom.

That left you and Ace, who awkwardly sat beside you on the stone bench, trying not to look like he cared.

“You’re really close with Deuce,” you said kindly.

"Yeah… I mean, we annoy the crap out of each other, but yeah. He’s my best friend, y’know?”

You smiled at that.

“I’m glad he has someone like you here. I worry sometimes. He used to get into fights a lot.”

“He still does sometimes. But only if someone’s being a jerk. He’s a good guy.”

You looked at him, tilting your head.

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a good guy, Ace?”

He looked at you then, caught off-guard. No flirtatious smirk. Just a blink and a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“I...uh…” He scratched his cheek. “I dunno. I’m not bad. I’m just not as ‘angelic’ as you.”

“That’s okay. You don’t need to be.”

“Wait, is that your way of saying you like me?”

You blinked confused.

“I never said that.”

“But you didn’t not say it either.”

You just smiled, and Ace clutched his heart like you’d shot Cupid’s arrow directly through his chest.

After you'd gone, Deuce slumped on the dorm couch, sighing.

“I’m glad she had fun. Thanks for not making it too weird.”

Ace, laying upside-down over the arm of the couch, stared at the ceiling with dead eyes.

“Bro…”

Deuce squinted at him.

“What?”

“I think I like your sister.”

Deuce sat up so fast he nearly fell. “WHAT?”

Ace flung an arm dramatically over his forehead.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. She’s just...so graceful. So nice. She laughs at my jokes even when they suck.”

“That’s because she’s too polite to call them bad,”

“Exactly,” Ace sighed.

“That’s hot.”

Deuce groaned and threw a pillow at him.

The next day, Ace leaned against the dorm railing, staring into the horizon like a tragic romantic lead.

Cater strolled by and blinked. “You good, dude?”

Ace didn’t even look at him. “I met an angel. And now she’s gone.”

Cater blinked. “Wait. Are you talking about—?”

“Yeah.” Ace sighed. “Deuce’s sister.”

Cater burst out laughing.

“You do realize Riddle might literally decapitate you if you try to date her, right?”

Ace just grinned, hands behind his head.

“Worth it.”

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 33

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: jealousssy, medical proedures

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There were good days in the ER, and then there were entertaining days.

Today, according to Dana, was shaping up to be the latter.

“Heads up,” she said in a singsong voice as she approached the nurse’s station, sliding a cup of black coffee across the desk to Robby. “New cardio attending on the floor,” she whispered “Tall. Tan. Gold watch. Looks like he flosses with hundred-dollar bills and does push-ups during rounds.”

Robby raised a brow. “And?”

“And he asked me who the pretty brunette in the mustard cardigan was.”

Robby’s hand froze mid-sip. “What?”

“You heard me,” Dana said with a wicked grin. “Pretty. Brunette. Mustard cardigan. So basically—your very taken girlfriend.”

Robby blinked slowly. “Did you tell him?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Dana said brightly. “What do I look like? A decent person?”

Before Robby could reply, a voice called out behind him, smooth and confident.

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

He turned. A man with perfect posture, polished shoes, and a dazzling white smile stood holding a tablet. He looked like a walking GQ ad with a stethoscope accessory.

“Dr. Carson. Cardiology. I transferred in from UCSF.” the man said, offering a hand.” “Just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Nice to meet you,” Robby said warily, shaking his hand.

Carson glanced casually across the ER, where you stood a few feet away reviewing patients on the board, your signature cardigan sleeves pushed up and a pen tucked into the corner of your mouth.

Carson’s eyes darted across the room. “Listen, I hope this isn’t inappropriate, but... I’ve seen you and Dr. Williams around, and I was wondering if you might, uh... put in a good word for me?”

Robby blinked. “A good word... with who?”

“Dr. Williams,” Carson said. “I don’t want to be weird about it, but she’s gorgeous. And she seems brilliant. I thought maybe, if she’s single, you could help me out? Slip me her number?”

Across the station, Dana had dropped her glasses.

Santos had visibly stopped breathing.

Whittaker mouthed the word oh no like he was watching a romcom train wreck in slow motion.

Robby just... stared. The kind of blank, stunned stare that said he wasn’t quite sure if this was happening in real life or if he had blacked out in one of the trauma rooms and this was some elaborate hallucination.

Robby blinked. Slowly. Once. Twice.

“...you want me to help you ask out my fiancée?” he said slowly.

Carson blinked. “She’s your fiancée?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. OH.”

Silence.

“That explains a lot,” Carson muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You two seemed close. I just thought... You know... good coworkers.”

Robby narrowed his eyes. “We live together.”

Dana choked on her coffee.

Carson raised his hands in surrender. “I fully accept defeat. You’re a lucky guy. Seriously. No disrespect meant.”

“No offense taken,” Robby said with a smile that was technically polite but felt like it had teeth.

Just then, you walked up to the desk, flipping through a stack of vitals. “Hey, has anyone seen the labs for Room 4? I’ve been waiting on—”

Carson turned toward her, determined to salvage his dignity. “Dr. Williams. I was just telling Dr. Robinavitch how incredibly impressive your work is.”

“Oh, thank you,” you said, barely glancing up from your chart. “Do you have the BNP for that CHF case?”

Robby watched her, his expression dry.

Carson chuckled. “Direct and efficient. I love that.”

You mumbled confusedly. “I just need the lab results.”

“Right. Of course.” He turned to Robby. “You’re a lucky guy.”

You finally looked up from your chart, confused. “Did I miss something?”

Robby stepped closer, looping an arm around your waist with casual, possessive ease. “Nope. Just clarifying some... relationship statuses.”

You frowned. “Okayyy.”

Carson winced again.

Robby gave him a tight nod. “All caught up now?”

“Crystal.”

As Carson turned to retreat, Dana called out behind him, “Tough beat, doc.”

You looked between them, baffled. “Wait. What just happened?”

Santos made a dramatic throat-slash motion toward Carson.

Robby kissed your temple. “You’re oblivious, you know that?”

“I'm focused,” you corrected.

“On everything except the part where a man just asked your fiancé to hook him up with you.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s what just happened?”

“Yup.”

“Oh my God.”

“You’re very popular,” Robby said dryly.

You laughed. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m possessive,” Robby corrected. “Which is healthy when your fiancé is so charming that other men forget to check her left hand.”

You smiled, stepping in to kiss his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“I do love it.”

[firemenenthusiast]

a/n: i know im supposed to post a smut but seriously idk what happened. it’s ready tho

farleigh start! with a gf who matches his freak; a headcanon ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

- big on fake pda. purposely bunching up your skirt when he kisses you while you moan loudly into the kiss. disgusting, yet the both of you absolutely love the people’s reactions. fake, because you only do it for the attention, giggling about it with him later that night in bed.

- “ollie was all like; “get a room !”. little bastard’s probably just jealous” as he continues to mock oliver with impressions of him.

- he’s attached to you by the hip, oftentimes wondering if you were actually his godsent emotional support the way he always want you by his side just in case. just in case for what ? only god knows.

- you guys share cigarettes often, because farleigh said buying one pack to share instead of two is like a two for one deal. don’t see why you’d argue on that.

- almost like you guys have been programmed, farleigh pulling the case absentmindedly and slipping one between your held out fingers. from another person’s perspective, you and farleigh move perfectly in sync.

- backs each other up all the time about literally anything no matter how ridiculous the situation is.

- “maybe if your mum loved you you wouldn’t end up this stupid”

- “you tell ‘em baby”

- casually adds onto each other’s insults like you’re actually trying to make the person cry and run to their mothers.

- one time a fresher tried to level with you saying that the both of you should leave if you didn’t have work to do. it was obvious that you and farleigh were just lounging around, but to your defense, it was your designated spot. poor kid had nobody to tell him that before receiving the emotional abuse of his life.

- “hey guys just a thought maybe if you don’t have work to do you shouldn’t be here”

- “you look like you shouldn’t be here on this planet”

- “who gives a fuck about your thoughts. if i gave you a quid for your ‘thought’ i’d get change back”

- people at the tables nearby were wincing the whole time. but you and farleigh weren’t that bad. only to those who deserve it i guess.

- the WORST mutual enablers.

- “you think if i let professor callahan fuck me he’d let me skip the test ?”

- “honestly that’s not a bad idea at all”

- could stop each other from indulging into bad ideas but why would you ?

- why only match each other’s freak when you could amplify it ?

- “i’ve always thought that the eery corner behind that shelf would be a great place to fuck”

- “let’s test it out shall we ?” farleigh would give you a look, his eyes challenging you.

- mischievously spontaneous. every little adventures that you count as a date is planned like an hour before the train leaves

- once took a late train to brighton on a sunday evening, telling felix about it when you’re already there, felix absolutely freaked out

- he was sure that he was gonna have to cover you both for monday’s early morning lecture

- much to his suprise you and farleigh was already there, like nothing happened

- would sneak into professors’ meetings and gets called out halfway through.

- raising your hands in a dramatic defeat, “took you long enough” before escaping

- goes to parties as a unit. farleigh LOVES costume parties because he gets to dress up in matching outfits with you as nobody else would. it’s only because he always suggest niche references to dress up as and nobody really gets them except you.

- cue to that one party where farleigh showed up in a blue and white stripe shirt with you wearing a white blazer outside a black blouse. he also kept on calling you jane. the both of you spent the entire night snickering to each other about it.

- definitely bedrot together after a long day, listening to each other’s soft breathing in the weirdest positions. farleigh would almost always put his body on top of yours and not in the way you’d think.

- his favourite would be having only his stomach on your lap, your bodies crossed on top of each other while he reads his book. no explanation.

- love language is showing interest in the other’s interests, then ends up becoming just as obsessed.

- reads and annotates each other’s current read so when one takes their turn reading, there’s the other’s commentary on the pages.

- farleigh puts a lot of “this you ?” where the main character is written having a mental breakdown.

- ideal date would be seeing the art exhibition hosted on oxford and put on the most focused expressions before completely berating the artist

- “is this supposed to be woke ?”

- “no, no. i think this is self-portrait, look”

- gets thrown out every time for causing disturbance. then makes out in the hallway. every time.

- no one really understands what the two of you got going on and every time someone asks, they never get an actual answer.

- “are you guys together or what ?”

- “no we’re just neighbours”

- and there’s no easy way to tell either, so at some point nobody bothers anymore. but there are signs.

- there’s a carving on the trunk of a campus tree of your initials, framed by a heart. everyone goes there to see it like it’s some landmark.

- when you’d have arguments with some rando farleigh would be there by your side. he doesn’t interfere, he just waits for you to be done and when you win he’d kiss your knuckles.

- have fucked each other everywhere on campus. library’s a great adrenaline spike, but nothing beats the hidden nook in the ashmolean museum, surrounded by the sculptures. that must be feeding into some of farleigh’s wildest… fantasy.

- intimate moments are really precious for you guys as they can get vulnerable real quick. farleigh would lay his head on your lap, closing his eyes to really feel the pads of your fingers tracing his face features. time would feel slow, like anything else had froze over just to let you breathe.

- “farleigh” “mhm ?” “do you think im pretty ?” “well you’re not ugly”

- once started a protest on accident. both you and farleigh were demonstrating your discernments about the current state of student affairs management for shit and giggles. suddenly a crowd was formed and the both of you have no idea how that happened.

- farleigh doesn’t get flustered easily. you’re the same. somehow when you tease each other it ends up with both of you extremely flustered.

- “looking far into the future is overrated” “eh i don’t know” “i didn’t know you think about the future” “only the one with you in it” then you become a stuttering mess, and he jokes about it for the rest of the day.

- “i picked these on my way here” farleigh had a small bouquet of wild flowers in his hand because you love pressing them in your journal

- “oh. i got you this on my way here” you had passed in front of a trinkets shop and got him a bracelet. this shows how you’re always thinking of each other.

- loves dissing other couples. valentines day is like you and farleigh’s olympics.

- makes out against the pillars in the hallway with his thighs separating your legs but once another couple kiss in front of you they’d get boo’d instantly.

- “roses and chocolates— really ?!” you’d yell to a couple from afar before farleigh joins in.

- “you gift your mum those on mother’s day !” and you’d have the laugh of your lives.

- crazy how your idea of valentines is making fun of other couples together. it really do be anything as long as you’re together.

- favourite pastime is making out.

- “wanna make out ?” “absolutely”

- thinks other couples are annoying but really, you and farleigh are the annoying one. felix and venetia are sick of you guys but they love seeing you two together.

- your relationship is built on unspoken trust, deep understanding and hard wired loyalty. you get each other, and there’s no use of declaring all that out loud. you have farleigh and farleigh has you. that alone is enough for the both of you.

bonus:

- farleigh first met you when he was sent to the dean’s office at his second last school before oxford.

- took a seat at the end of the hall, steps away from you.

- you’ve been sitting in front of the office long before him, looking like you’re waiting for someone to let you in.

- “trouble ?” you’d chirp in his direction. he couldn’t even bother looking away from his long gaze, let alone answer you.

- you kept on talking and eventually annoyed him into speaking.

- he’d told you that he knew he’s never stepping back into the school as soon as he left the office. you figured it was an expulsion worth of offence.

- “what are you here for ?” he finally asked, still waiting for someone to call him in.

- you’d shrug your shoulders, “nothing. im skipping chemistry” to which he scoffed in return.

- when he left the office you were already gone, he didn’t think much about it.

- until he met you again in oxford, slowly seeing himself in you.

taglist: @flipsconhelado @orngeblossm @love-me-pls @radioloom @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @juniperhasfallen @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @fuckshitslover @inglourious-imagines @lilyisprtty

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter eight

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: it's here. Finally. Don't look at me. Can't believe we only have 4 chapters to go after this one! I have such a deep fond love for this little universe and I'm so damn thankful for all of your comments, reblogs and asks! Your kind words make my bloody year! Hope you enjoy angels x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 4.7k-ish

Warnings: angsttttt, swearing, general heartache and bittersweet goodbyes, a break in, these two make me want to listen to a heartbreak playlist all day and just cry

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The words play in your mind as you make a beeline to the public bathrooms, a relentless cycle over and over and over. Your conversation with the consultant had been mind achingly frustrating, and yet, despite knowing his little tricks and various mental hoops he gets his chosen victims to jump through, you can’t help it—you give in.

You find yourself jumping through those damn hoops, letting his words drive you borderline insane.

Jane has it all wrong—so wrong—so why can’t you stop thinking about what he said? What would give him the impression that Marcus has feelings for you? Feelings that extend beyond the expected responsibility of a leading agent, and mere guilt lingering from their shared history.

Does he see something you can’t? Has he heard something? Found something?

The bitter tang of resentment builds in the back of your throat as your mind goes down more paths, creating more questions with no answers in sight. This is what he wants.

Jane wants you to be overwhelmed with questions and what ifs and a desperation for the truth, so you’ll go to him for the answers. So he can spin words, play and pick your brain some more. It’s a cycle, one that obviously works well for him. This is how he plays, and it’s vicious and cruel, and—

—and yet you still let his words confuse you, still mull over them in your head.

You keep fucking falling for it. 

Your hands shake as they deposit your bag beside the sink, the cold water splashing over your skin doing nothing to divert your thoughts or distract you.

Of course there are no feelings anywhere.

Maybe this is just a ploy to hurt or embarrass Marcus—surely there’d be some bad energy there, given the history between them both. Maybe Jane’s not finding enough entertainment within the investigation and is instead making his own.

You don’t know. What you do know is that you refuse to waste one more fucking second wondering what is going on in that man’s head, and what his ploy is.

It hits you as you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, the obvious internal war written across your face with creases of stress and watery eyes—you can’t do this. You’re not cut out for this rollercoaster of drama. You’ve had enough. 

Jane, the case, Marcus, the FBI—you’ve had enough of all of it. You’ve done enough, and Marcus has always said to tell him when you decide you’re done. He’s always said that you’re under no obligation to do anything you don’t want to do, that you could back out at any point. Or maybe that was just another lie.

The bitter part of you churns to life, still angry, still holding onto the aching resentment from the past. Vicious thoughts and memories tainted by heartbreak flood your mind, but it doesn’t seem to cut as deep as it usually would. He didn’t lie about that. 

He said you were in control, he gave you his word—and you took it. You trust it.

Would he be disappointed?

You did tell him that you’d help, that you’d do what the FBI asked of you and get them the information they need, but at what cost? Your mental health was already taking hits, an array of emotions continuously assaulting you from merely being around Marcus again, let alone being bombarded and interrogated by some wanna-be mentalist freak from California.

No. He’d understand.

You dry up, blotting the paper towel across your throat and willing your heart to slow down as you look over your frame in the reflection. The wire’s still perfectly hidden, tucked deeply away under your jacket from where Marcus had pinned it, but the mere thought of it sitting there has a cold dread creeping along your veins.

That whole conversation with Jane had been recorded.

Marcus is going to listen to it. His team is going to listen to it. You can’t deal with the fallout of that. You can’t be humiliated like that. What would he do? What would he say?

Though of course you know the truth and that the idea of Marcus having any type of romantic inclination towards you is fucking ridiculous, you’re still not exactly fond of the idea of sitting there and listening to him explain why he does not, and would not, ever have feelings for you.

Maybe—maybe you could get ahead of it.

Surely if you just tell him, ask him, that the recording be discarded as you’re backing out. There’s nothing on there, there’s no need for it. Just delete it, forget about it and move on. 

You grab your things and leave the safety of the bathroom, clutching your bag like a lifeline as you begin to make your way towards the exit, but then you see him. He’s a good distance away from the path you’re taking, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if you weren’t suddenly highly aware of every person milling about the building.

Edward Thomas.

Someone who had played a big part in your life before everything went to shit. He’d been involved with some of your replicas, their creations and the deals around them once they were complete. You weren’t aware of his exact place in all of it, but you know damn well it was much higher on the food chain than you.

He looks the same, despite everything. Did nothing happen to him when it all fell apart? Was he not arrested along with everyone else?

Probably not. He had money—serious money. He had connections. He had the network you had ensured to keep out of. Perhaps you would’ve been better following his footsteps, kissing asses and sucking up to the underground elites of the world, making more of a name for yourself behind closed doors. You would've been untouchable, invincible. 

Where would you be now? Back in your penthouse, mostly unscathed and living life as normal.

There’s no use dwelling on it. It’s a can of worms you could continue to open and close for the rest of your life, wondering what if until it drove you mad.

Doing what Edward Thomas did, does—it’s not you. It wasn’t you back then, and it wouldn’t be you now. You just wanted to paint, you weren’t in it for the money. Although, admittedly, it did help.

You want to move towards him, to hover in the background beyond the group of smartly dressed people surrounding him, enough for him to see you, to peak his interest. This could be what Marcus, the FBI, needs. This could, potentially, help the investigation, if he is still doing dealings under the table. 

But then what? You’d be stuck having to go further. There’d be no backing out. There’d be more drama, more headaches, more mind games, more lies. You can’t do it.

This has developed into something you don’t think you have the nerve for. The idea of it all seemed so easy when Marcus came to you, but the reality of it? You don’t have the mentality for it all. You’re not an agent. You’re not trained for this. You don’t have people behind you, covering for you and protecting you.

You turn away.

Rigsby lingers by the bathroom you had exited from, nose in a pamphlet showcasing the must sees of the museum, but his eyes flick to you as if to check on your movements. You swallow, give a barely there shake of your head and then continue on your way out, leaving him to alert Marcus that you had left.

—

You’re only a mere few feet away, but he can feel the distance that now stretches in between you. Distance that could never be removed or forgotten. The thick sheen of glass hides him from your gaze, but that doesn’t stop him from flinching when your eyes glance at the mirror upon entry.

He’s a coward. A fucking coward. He intentionally sat out on the move today, refused to be a part of the team bringing you in, all because he was scared of seeing your face and the look of betrayal in your eyes. Shit, he’s still scared now. Maybe that;s why he stays behind the glass, refusing to be a part of the interrogation.

You’re holding on so fucking strong, he’s damn near proud.

Jenner throws everything at you. He does all that he can, but when you don’t budge, he throws an apologetic glance towards the mirror that you thankfully don’t catch. It’s time to pull out the ace card, to let you know they had more on you than you think, and it makes him fucking sick.

He can’t move.

You’re confused when you hear the mention of his name, his real name, and why wouldn’t you be? You have no idea who he is, who he really is.

Sweat slicks his palm as he pulls at the door to the interrogation room, builds on the back of his neck under the crisp collar of his shirt as he takes a seat. He can’t look at you. He can’t look at you because he’s a piece of shit coward, unable to confront all the shit he’s done.

Bile stings at his throat.

It takes every fucking bit of him to keep it together.

The file is heavy in his hand as he slides it across the table before he finally manages to meet your gaze. It cuts him to the very core. He feels the hit of it deep in his chest. His jaw starts to ache from the pressure of keeping his teeth clenched tightly together, forcefully swallowing down every flicker of pain and guilt and self fucking loathing until he’s nothing but a blank slate.

Tears start to build rapidly in your eyes and he knows then and there that he’ll never forget that look of pure and utter heartbreak creasing your face. The face he had stroked so softly, kissed so lovingly.

“Special Agent Pike,” you rasp softly, almost choking on the words.

It’s a viciously harsh blow to the system and he falters almost immediately.

I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry—

You don’t look at him anymore, and he’s almost glad for it. You’d see how he starts to crumble, how his tongue darts out to wet his lips in a panic and how Jenner makes a small gesture for him to take a deep breath and cool it before he says something that’ll end him in deep shit.

“I want a lawyer.”

—

“I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. Any of it.”

He seems to be expecting the words, taking them in with nothing but a small reassuring smile and a simple, “Okay.”

Honestly, you were expecting a little more. Maybe a few questions fired as to why you couldn’t do it when you seemed so intent on following through with it all originally, but when he says nothing else, you deflate. You wet your lips, wondering if there’s some sort of catch, but Marcus remains silent, watching the flutter of emotions pass over your face.

“That’s it?”

“When I told you that you’re in control of this, I meant it. If you’re done, then you’re done.”

Hearing him confirm it brings such a sweet relief to your mind, you can practically feel the weight of it all start to seep from your shoulders, but despite that guilt still sits in the pit of your stomach, uncomfortable and relentless. It falls from your mouth before you can even think to stop it—

“I’m sorry. I thought—I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would feel different, or be easier than it actually is. I think I’m just… tired. Of everything. I want—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he cuts in quietly, giving a small reassuring smile when you glance at him. “We asked a lot of you, and I understand that. It’s okay—really.”

Your conversation with Jane plays back through your mind, almost tauntingly. A small part of you wants to tell Marcus about it, he should know Jane’s off parading about on his own path without a care for the plans or rules or whatever it is that gets set in place during an investigation, but then what?

He’d want to know what he said, and you don’t have it in you to look him in the eyes and tell him. You don’t want to open yourself up to that embarrassment. Of course what Jane said is all bullshit, it’s ridiculous to even think about yourself, but to have Marcus bluntly tell you so would be a bit of a slap across the face.

“The recording,” you start with the creepings of hesitation, tongue rolling along your lips in an effort to bring the words out smoother, “what happens to it?”

 A flutter of a frown creases his brows as he eyes you from across your kitchen before he gives a noncommittal shrug, finding no harm in your curiosity.

“It gets put in with the rest of the evidence.”

“Even if there’s nothing on it?”

“It would need to be cleared by an agent first, but if there’s nothing of use on it then it just gets discarded.”

“If—if I asked you to delete it now, without listening to it, is that… would you?”

The frown immediately deepens.

He seems to stand straighter, something seeping into his expression as your question lingers in the air, and you watch, waiting for the suspicion that doesn’t seem to come. He just seems concerned, whether on your behalf or his investigation you don’t know. He doesn’t seem to know that Jane had jumped on you at the museum, surely that would’ve been something he would address immediately upon seeing you after the last time,  so you’re positive he’s unaware of what’s on it.

“I—” he stops, tongue running along his lips, “I can’t risk the case—”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you. There’s nothing worthwhile on it, but if I wanted you to forget about it and delete it, would you?”

Would you trust me?

It goes unspoken, but it lingers behind your words. Despite the anxiety churning in your stomach and the panic building in your chest from how he’ll take your request and what he’ll think of it, you’re curious. He has no reason to trust you whatsoever, especially given your history, but some sort of shaky foundation had been built between you over your time working with him—how far did it go?

His concern grows, and he takes a careful step towards you. “Has something happened?”

Should you tell him? No. Just be done with it all.

“Just answer the question.”

“What happened?”

“Marcus.”

The frown remains steady between his brows, his eyes unwavering as they focus on yours and study your features, but eventually, after a few moments of searching your expression, he gives a small careful nod. You can’t help but recoil slightly in surprise, not expecting the answer. You don’t even know what you were expecting.

Your first response is to call him out, because surely he wouldn’t, but as you watch him and the way he starts to shift almost nervously, you start to believe him.

“You would?” You question softly, brows pulling together. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to.”

That’s it? That’s all it would take?

He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as his hands find his hips. “Are—are you asking me to?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“No.”

It’s not an answer he wants, but he seems to accept it. His frown stays on you, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as he attempts to work out whatever you may be thinking. You see the conflict play across his face, the urge to push for more answers, the want to understand.

Something seems to click behind his eyes and you don’t know what to brace for in the seconds that follow. Anger? Accusations? 

He strides towards the kitchen counter, takes the little device in hand and holds a small button along the side until it gives a small beep followed by a clear confirmation of ‘recording deleted’. It’s over and done with within the span of thirty seconds and you’re left reeling.

Holy shit. He did it. You stare, wide eyed as he tosses it back down and runs a hand over his mouth, before turning and pacing the small width of your apartment. 

You watch him go.

There was nothing on it other than your little spat with Jane, but he didn’t know that. You could be hiding anything. You could’ve turned on him, evaded Rigsby’s watchful eye, found someone in your old circle and told them everything you and the FBI have been doing. Anything could’ve been on it, and yet he listened to you.

He trusted you.

“You could’ve just deleted evidence,” you breathe, still stuck in disbelief.

He knows it wasn’t. He fully believes you would never ask that of him, but at that very moment, he couldn’t have cared less if it was evidence. He would’ve dealt with it, like before. Technology isn’t always reliable, and issues almost always arise during cases with something tech-related. No one would know. No one would need to know.

“Yes,” he states plainly, and you’re so perplexed by the word and how he seemingly shrugs off his actions that you need to take another moment to process it.

“Just like that.”

He finally stops pacing, turning to face you fully.

“Just like that,” he echoes quietly.

This was a bad idea.

Not just the erasure of potential evidence and his apparent nonchalance regarding it and the risk to the position he had gruellingly earned over the years, but the whole thing.

The whole fucking thing.

He should never have bought you into this. He should never have knocked on your door. He’s right back to where he was back then, stuck and doing some very questionable shit he would easily lose his job over all because he’s an idiot.

You don’t hide away from his gaze, and he doesn’t shy away from yours. You’re still trying to work out his thought process, the logic behind his actions, and you keep coming up with nothing. There’s no reason why he would do something like this, for a nobody like you. There’s no motivation, no need on his side to do as you ask and blindly delete shit without questioning it further…  unless—

Unless, what Jane said holds some merit.

Why else would he do it?

No.

Maybe he’s just doing it as a favour, to try and make up for all of the shit he put you through. That makes more sense than him having feelings for you. He hasn’t been around you enough to justify any sort of feelings—he doesn’t know you. Or is he carrying them from your previous relationship? But it’s been ages since you were together, and that was all fake back then. There was nothing real there, it was all a lie. 

The headache is coming back.

You exhale slowly through your lips, eyes falling away from him and to the simple black device once more. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You don’t need to know any more. It’s all done. It’s over, and you can finally get back to your quiet little normal life. You can move on.

“Thank you.” And you mean it.

“Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, clearing his throat. “I know this must’ve been very hard for you, and we appreciate all of the hard work you’ve put into this investigation. I appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” you half smile, the pull of it natural.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he huffs softly in amusement, slowly coming closer to pick up the device from the counter and tuck it away into his pocket. 

“I mean, I wasn’t thrilled to begin with, but… it turned out okay.”

He smiles fully, and it hits just like it used to. You don’t look away. There’s no harm in taking it all in one last time. You won’t see him after this. You didn’t know last time, before it all fell apart. You didn’t get a chance to enjoy all of the little things you liked. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

“Well, I’ll—I’ll leave you to it. Thank you again. There might be some final paperwork, but I’ll post it out.”

You nod as you follow him slowly to your door, tucking your cardigan around you and crossing your arms tightly across your chest. You ache. Somewhere deep inside your chest twists, and your throat starts to tighten. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking when you call out to him before he can reach for the door, and you’re left with nothing to say when he pauses and turns to you.

There’s nothing to say. He doesn’t bother filling the silence. You stand there, eyes roaming his face in an effort to picture him as he was back then, when he was Alex. He lets you. There’s something there, something hanging in the stillness surrounding you both because you can feel it start to tug and twist at your insides.

Finality.

This is goodbye—a proper one.

It’s not Marcus you want to say goodbye to.

Slowly, deliberately, you step into him and he doesn’t move a muscle. He stills under the hand you steady yourself with on his arm, breath all but hardening in his lungs when your face nears his own.

Your lips press ever so softly to his cheek, only mere millimetres from the corner of his lips, and the shaky little exhale he lets out confirms it all for you.

Jane was right, but you have no idea just how much. He was in deeper than you could have possibly ever imagined. Everything was still there, simmering right under the surface and threatening to be his entire undoing. He doesn’t speak, can’t speak, for fear of saying the wrong thing and fucking this last little moment up.

He relishes in it, in the one final tender touch of your lips that sends his pulse to a heavy hammer beneath his skin. It kills him, destroys him, but he takes it willingly with an open heart. The final punishment to close the last chapter of your story.

His eyes are closed when you pull away, but they soon flutter open to meet yours, and they swim with all the apologies and guilt he doesn’t let himself say anymore. You’re thankful for it, you don’t want to hear it. Not now. Your lips tingle, and a warmth spreads along the skin of your cheeks. 

“Bye Scribbles,” he rumbles finally, and you swear there’s a slight shine of tears in his eyes.

They mirror the ones suddenly building in yours.

Goodbye Alex.

“Goodbye Marcus,” you return softly, and then he’s gone.

—

He wants to tell you to run.

The words sit on his tongue: a beg for forgiveness, a plea to just get on the first plane out of the fucking country and disappear, and he damn near draws blood to stop himself.

Though he tidied up as much as he could, ensured there were appropriate plea deals in place and a chance for you to get out of this better than the others if you cooperated, he still dreaded the next few days.

You have no idea.

No idea that your world’s essentially going to shatter and come down around you, and it’s all his fault.

Your kisses feel like a punishment. Each one threatens to cut through his restraint, and when you whisper those three sweet words in his ear he wants to vomit.

He wants to tell you everything. He wants to explain that this fake persona you had given yourself to so fully was still him—it was all him, just under a different name. 

He doesn’t.

He lets the guilt eat away at him, lets the heartache practically tear him apart from the inside out until he feels raw. There’d be no salvaging this. There’d be no walking away from this with you still on his side, and rightly so. This will fucking break you, and he’ll carry that for the rest of his life.

He sits up long after you fall asleep, studying each dip and curve of your face and committing it all to memory. He traces over your skin, attempts to smile when you sleepily wake from his touch and hides the presence of his tears by scooping you into his arms for the last time. 

—

It’s surprisingly easy to return to life as it was before he knocked on your door. A weight had been lifted free from your shoulders, a promise of new beginnings born from finally gaining closure. Was it what you expected? No, but it was no less welcome. 

You managed to get your old job back at the diner, and spent days sketching aimlessly in the park.

It was normal, until it suddenly wasn’t.

The door’s pried open when you return from a late night shift, the obvious signs of a forced entry with the wooden edges of the door chipped and the frame split from pressure. Your hand shakes as you push it open, stomach turning as it gives way to the utter chaos that is your little apartment. Your home.

Your things are everywhere, drawers are opened and the contents spilled out onto the floor, furniture upturned and tossed carelessly to the side. Someone had been looking for something, but you know you have nothing of worth. Not anymore. They wouldn’t have walked away with anything of significance but still, there’s a bitter sting of loss, of intrusion that seems to rattle you to the core.

Heart beating heavily in your throat, you carefully step over the mess and further into your small apartment, and beyond the thunder of your pulse you hear nothing else out of the ordinary. Whoever had been here was long gone, leaving nothing but destruction and questions in their wake. Who the hell did this?

He’s the first and only person that comes to the forefront of your mind, and when you shakily reach for your phone and find his name still saved in your small list of contacts, he answers after the second ring despite it being so late. You almost feel guilty for bothering him, but something about the way he seems so immediately concerned placates any doubt.

“Hi, I—I’m sorry, I don’t… someone broke into my apartment—”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement on his end that crackles down the phone. 

“Get out of there,” Marcus demands, before you can even finish working out the right words to say.

He doesn’t tell you to call the cops, he doesn’t tell you it’s not his problem and that you’re on your own now. You feel a slight wave of relief, but facing the disaster of your apartment has a wave of vulnerability hitting you and your eyes start to burn. 

“There’s no one here,” you mumble around the sudden dryness of your throat, “they’re gone. Can you—”

“I’m on my way. Listen to me, I need you out of there, do you understand? Do not touch anything, leave everything as it is.”

You nod, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it, and step back out into the quiet corridor of your floor.

There’s no one around.

Your skin prickles with worry, your nerves working into overdrive to stay vigilant. Every quiet shuffle and bump beyond the walls of neighbouring apartments rattles your senses, and the hand holding your phone starts to shake. He must sense your panic, hear the way your breathing starts to pick up as your chest starts to tighten.

“It’s okay, I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.”

“Okay,” you exhale as a tear tracks down your cheek, leaving a cool trail in its wake.

Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe it’s just some random burglary, someone out to get a quick bit of cash for whatever they need, or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s not all over as you had hoped. Has someone found you? Do they know who you are? Do they know what you did?

You feel sick.

Your voice catches in your throat, “Marcus—”

“I know. I’m coming.”

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)

The three times you sense something strange when everyone pairs you with Spencer, and the one time you understand why.

Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencer’s educational background, it’s hard writing a genius Words: 5.6k (not proofread, I’ll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes) A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you don’t mind reading more😌

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

I. The Forced Partner

There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luck—or preferably yours.

It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you would’ve thought he’d keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room. 

The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand. 

“I’m Dr. Nina Patel, I’ll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.”

You nodded, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table. 

“Our Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.”

Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?" 

"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."

You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body. 

"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. It’s possible she was placed there post-mortem."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.”

You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."

Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. “It’s plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. We’re running some tests as we speak.”

Spencer chimed in quickly after that. “The Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,” he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, “They’d metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s impressive, Dr. Reid,” Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. “Did you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?”

“I actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.”

Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite a formidable educational background. No wonder you’re so thorough with your analyses.”

You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just so—it was a tone you recognized all too well.

She was flirting with him.

You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasn’t like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didn’t involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.

You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.

“Can we continue?” 

Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. “Of course.”

She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didn’t comment.

It wasn’t until you had all the information you needed—and after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at him—that Spencer finally spoke up.

“She seems nice,” he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.

You shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Am I missing something?” 

You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed. 

“It’s just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,” you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.

And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustration—it clicked. “Wait, are you... jealous?”

“No, I’m not!” You replied quickly, then softer, “I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

You scoffed. “No, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.”

“Oh, so now we’re friends?”

“I meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.”

“Right,” Spencer replied sarcastically. “I didn’t realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you snapped. “Stop making it into something it’s not.”

“Sure.”

“Reid.”

“Y/L/N,” he shot back in the same flat tone.

Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, brushing past him.

You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mystery—nothing more.

You were not jealous.

II. The Unavoidable Flight

“I’m telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. “It was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?”

“Why are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,” Penelope responded. “He’s not my type, but he clearly has admirers.”

Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I don’t understand what they see in him.”

“It might be that genius brain of his—totally irresistible to some.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.

Penelope responded with a sly grin. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“Like someone who’s maybe a little jealous.”

You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.”

“I’m focused on maintaining a professional work environment,” you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. “Not about… whatever you’re implying.”

“Fine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?”

“Hypothetically, oh my god,” Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?”

You paused at the entrance, processing her question. “I’d do nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yes, I’d do nothing because I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what any jealous person would say.”

You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To find a spot where my supposed jealousy isn’t your inflight entertainment,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew you were jealous!”

“Supposed jealousy!”

Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.

It was perfect.

“Garcia! That’s my usual spot,” Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.

“But it’s so comfortable,” Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. “Come on, Reid, I don’t travel as much as you do. Let me have it.”

Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelope’s exaggerated comfort. “Where would I sit?”

“You can sit…”

You quickly closed your eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t–

“Over there! There’s an empty spot in front of Y/N.”

You were going to kill her.

You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, he’d pick another chair—perhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, or—

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“I know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.

“Actually, yes, I do mind.”

He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.

"Reid,” you warned him. “I’m serious.”

"I know you are.” His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know that you snore when you sleep?”

You gasped. “I do not!”

“You do. You sound like a little chainsaw.”

You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.

“A chainsaw? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Well, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."

“Don’t make me throw you off the plane.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Just so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should try—ouch!”

You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.

“Consider that your first and only warning,” you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

“See, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate your—”

“Good night, Reid.”

There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard it—a slight, barely audible chuckle.

You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Maybe you were already dreaming.

III. The Lock-in Incident

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. “Can you take these down to the filing room? Spencer’s already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.”

You eyed the thick folder in JJ’s hands. When there wasn’t an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.

But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you going there?” She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.

Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.

“Maybe you should go down there instead.”

“I can’t,” she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. “I’ve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.”

Your eyes glanced over to Derek’s desk across from you. “Morgan?”

He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. “Sorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.”

“Oh, come on.” You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. “I’ll do you a favor—anything you want.”

Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but I really can’t. This report’s due in an hour.”

Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emily’s desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.

You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your options—or lack thereof—settle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.

With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I have more work for you,” you announced in a sing-song voice.

Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. “Nope. They’re yours, not mine.”

You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. “Are you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what you’ve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work got… scrambled.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he quickly warned. “Hand them over. I’ll do it myself.”

You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.

“Really?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. “You know, we could actually get this done much faster if you’re not acting like a child.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re the mature one.”

“At least I’m trying to get the job done, not make it harder.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight about every little detail, it wouldn’t be so hard,” you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.

“I’m not uptight. I’m precise. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.

“Did that just…?” He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. “Great, it’s locked.”

“What?” You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Who the hell locked it?”

“I don’t think anyone did. These old doors… they stick. It’s probably just jammed,” Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.

Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.

But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.

“Look, let’s just keep working,” he suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.”

You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. “Fine. But if we’re still stuck here by the time we’re done, you’re explaining this to Hotch.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. “How do I do this?”

“Sort them by case type first, then by date within each type.”

“So, this one would go under…?”

“Unsolved homicides,” Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. “And make sure it’s in chronological order with the others.”

You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. “Wait,” you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. “I think this was my first case.”

You read through the document and nodded.

“Yes, look, it’s the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,” you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. “That was such a hard case. Remember how I couldn’t stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?”

When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.

“Of course, you don’t remember,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you even remember?”

A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“October 19, 2011.”

You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The date you started working here,” Spencer said, still focused on his task. “You wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“The case was in St. Louis,” Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. “Your first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.

“You cried when you came back from talking with the victim’s family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.”

You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.

“You also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.”

He remembered.

The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.

“You…” The frown on your face deepened. “You remembered.”

There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. “It’s hard not to."

You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed he’d rather keep his distance?

You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. “I forgot you have an eidetic memory.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.

IV. The Table For Two

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You expect me to believe it was an accident?” Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. “That the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?”

“The doors are old,” she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. “You know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.”

Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. “Right, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?”

JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then somebody did.”

“Y/N,” she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. “Nobody did.”

You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. “You guys are so annoying.”

JJ laughed. “How did you get out of there anyway?”

You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.

"We had to call Garcia to let us out,” you said, your tone dry. “She found the whole thing hilarious."

JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."

“She’s already teasing us about it.”

Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. “Did anything happen while you two were in there?”

You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. “Not really,” you admitted. “We just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.”

“But did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?”

“Jennifer,” you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what had—or hadn’t—happened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.

“I know, I know, it’s complicated,” she conceded. “Just thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.”

“Well, you thought wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."

You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.

“…right now… sure… no, it’s fine… I can be there in ten… of course, honey...”

You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.

"I need to head home,” she said, a bit too casually. “Will got called into work unexpectedly.”

Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccable—a little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that ‘the kid needs to go out more’.

But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.

"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. “Is everything okay?”

JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.

“Well, if you really have to go…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.”

“Details? What details?” You called after her but she was already walking away. “JJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?”

She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.

Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I can’t make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)

Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.

“Morgan’s late,” he announced as a greeting.

“He’s not coming,” you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “And neither is JJ or Penny.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” you replied with a sigh. “But it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

"What is?"

“That we’ve been set up,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “They’re not coming, and I’m willing to bet they never planned to.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You think they did this on purpose? Why would they—”

“Come on, Reid,” you interrupted. “They’ve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?”

Spencer’s gaze hardened slightly. “I don’t need to be manipulated into having a conversation,” he said sharply.

“And you think I do?” You retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s not a date,” Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go home.”

There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. “You want to go home?”

“You don’t?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I mean, we’re already here. Might as well stay and eat. It’s not like I have any better plans.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.

It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argument—it all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option you’d choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.

“Fine,” you finally said, brushing past him. “But you’re paying.”

Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile. 

"A table for two?" 

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that's—um, that will be fine."

The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.”

You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. “I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme.”

You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. “They’re always meddling. They don’t know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And this—this is just so...” 

“Annoying?” He offered.

“Infuriating,” you emphasized, throwing your hands up. “It’s infuriating. And embarrassing. And—”

“And yet, here we are,” he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. “You know, maybe we should just give them what they want.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.”

“Reid,” you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. “They don’t want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.” 

Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.

“You’re right,” he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.

You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?

The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldn’t imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinktober (11)- Power Imbalance

Boss Natasha X Employee Reader 18+

Summary: When you were called into your boss's office, you were expecting to be fired, not fucked on her desk.

Warnings/Tags: SMUT MDNI, Boss/Employee relationship, Fingering, Oral, Brief Spanking, Desk Sex, Multiple orgasms 

Kinktober Masterlist

“Miss Y/L/N,” you look up when you hear a woman say your name, a soft smile gracing her lips, “Miss Romanoff would like to see you in her office.” Fear ran through your body at the sympathetic look the woman gave you afterwards, your mind running a million miles an hour as you tried to figure out why your boss would want to see you in her office. When the woman turned and walked a few steps, looking over her shoulder at you expectantly making your eyes widen.

“N-now?” you stuttered out, not ready to face one of the most intimidating women you’ve ever met, especially when all your brain can think about is her firing you.

“Yes Miss Y/L/N, now,” there's a slight smile tugging at her lips, “I’d hurry if I were you, she doesn’t like to wait.” Papers go flying off your desk as you scramble out of your seat to catch up with the woman, following her confident stride with anxiety coursing through you. Once you reach the door with a sign saying Miss Romanoff, you take in a deep breath before turning to the woman for some support only to find her gone. Nervously, your knuckle raps against the door as you wait for a response, a professional ‘come in’ muffled by the door.

“Take a seat Miss Y/L/N,” she says to you without even looking away from her paperwork, fingers swiftly flicking through the pages before closing the file and turning her attention to you. You listen to her, an apology and mini speech ready in your mind in case she does fire you as you sit in the surprisingly comfortable seat. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you in here?” Her tone is full of professionalism as she addresses you, her posture amazing as you try and not focus on the suit she’s wearing and how amazing she looks in it.

“Yes Miss Romanoff,” you manage out, feeling small under her intense gaze, a blush tinting your cheeks.

“Well, we’re here to discuss your work here at Avengers so far and what you have done,” your mind dreads what’s to come, you thinking you have horribly messed up all the paperwork you have done for the company so far. “Can you tell me when you handed in the completed file regarding the Strucker case?”

“Uh,” you search for the answer in your brain, taking a moment to remember fully what happened. You remembered staying after your shift had finished to complete the case file, being the last worker in the building to make sure you had it done a few days prior to the deadline. “I handed it in on the 5th, the deadline being the 10th,” you watch her reaction closely but to no avail as her face remains strictly professional.

“The Hydra case?”

“Handed in on the 11th but it was re-evaluated on the 12th, so um the 14th would be when it was handed in, the deadline being the 20th.” Your hands play with each other, a nervous habit you could never escape.

“Are you aware that the 11th and 12th was a weekend?”

“Yes?”

“Ok,” her fingers open the file once more, eyes scanning over the information present, “And what about the Ultron file?”

“Completed by the 25th, the deadline being the 30th,” she asks you many more questions regarding other cases you completed, your nerves building after every question.

“Are you also aware that you managed to complete eight high level priority cases within two months when it would have taken others at least three to four?” Your mouth parted at her words, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“No Miss Romanoff, I wasn’t,” you say, still a little confused.

“Well, you should be extremely impressed by yourself Miss Y/L/N,” a smile takes over your face at her compliment, your eyes watching her as she stands from her seat, walking around her desk until she could lean back on the front of it, standing directly in front of you now. “For doing so well, I have a little offer for you,” her tone drops an octave, the blush on your cheeks darkening as her green eyes look you up and down. “I can either shake your hand and congratulate you on your work, or I can find a more satisfactory way to thank you.” Her hands wrap around the metal arm rests of your seat, her body towering over yours as a wave of heat and arousal washes over you. “What will it be, Miss Y/L/N?”

You answer by slowly and cautiously leaning up to press your lips to hers, her hands cupping your jaw and tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue slides across your bottom lip, seeking entrance to which you happily gave. Hesitantly, you placed your hands on her waist as she guided you out of the chair, spinning you around so your back hit her desk as her body pressed itself into yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, a groan escaping you at the action and breaking the kiss apart.

“Fuck,” you hear her sigh out, hands going to the back of your thigh and lifting you onto her desk. “Do you know how hard it’s been to resist you?” she pants out near your ear as she peppers kisses along your jaw, her hands sliding under your skirt and softly massaging the skin of your thighs. “My good, innocent little employee who’s so desperate to please?”

“Natasha,” you moan out, deciding to ignore formalities as you can feel her hand creeping high up your leg, fingertips ghosting your embarrassingly wet panties. “Please,” you can feel her smirk against the skin of your neck, her tongue licking a stripe up the column of your throat before she pulls back to look at you.

“Hush little one,” she rasps out, “Let me take care of you.” A whimper leaves your lips as she descends to her knees, a sultry smirk present on her face as she unzips your skirt and pulls the item off swiftly, your panties following suit. “You’re so wet for me,” she murmurs, kissing along your inner thighs to make your body throb with want and need for her.

“Please don’t tease me,” you whine out at the feeling of her warm breath fanning over your dripping core. She seems to take pity on you, mouth going straight to your clit and sucking gently, fingers running through your folds and gathering your wetness before effortlessly sliding into you. “Oh shit,” you moan out when her tongue swirls around your clit expertly, her fingers curling inside you perfectly as she hits all the right spots inside you.

Soon, she’s thrusting her fingers into you mercilessly, your knuckles bleeding white as you grip the edge of her desk for support, her tongue relentless on your sensitive clit. Your hands release the desk of their death grip, moving to tangle into her red locks. However, Natasha pulls back at this briefly and looks up at you, your arousal coating her lower face.

“Hands off Kotenok,” she husks out, the sound of her native tongue slipping from mouth makes you somehow even wetter. You listen to her words, moving your hands out of her hair and back to the poor table beneath you, mind clouding with pleasure as she adds another finger into you. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to approach, her name falling off your lips like a chant as she continues to eat you out like she's starved.

“I’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with a scream, one of your hands clasping over your mouth to muffle the noise while the other instinctively goes to her hair once again as you come all over her mouth. She lets you ride out your orgasm before pulling back and letting her hand connect with your core, spanking your pussy making you cry out.

“I told you to keep your hands off,” her tone dangerously dominant as she looks up at you, sending a shiver down your spine. Her mouth goes back to your core, merciless as she listens to the pathetic noises that leave your lips as she drives you to another orgasm. Just as you're about to come again, she pulls back and spanks your core again, a guttural moan echoing around the room as she sends you straight into your second orgasm with the slap, body shaking on her desk. “Fuck, you like it when I spank you?” she taunts, standing up right and claiming your lips, “If I knew that I wouldn’t have hesitated to call you in here and bent you over my desk.”

“Please do,” you whimper out, her shaking her head softly and gently kissing you, letting you calm down after two intense orgasms.

“Not today little one,” she murmurs, “This was just meant to be a thank you but I got carried away.” You wish she would do it today but the rational part of you knew you shouldn’t rush into anymore, especially after only just finding out you liked to be spanked. “How about you have a meeting with me on Friday, we can discuss whatever you want?” Her hands comfort you by roaming your body before she helps you redress, a blush on your face as you anticipate what could happen.

“I’ll see you Friday, Miss Romanoff,” you say teasingly but before she can say anything else in response, the woman from earlier, who you realise is her secretary, knocks on the door to alert her of the meeting in a few moments.

“Don’t be a brat or maybe you’ll end up bent over this desk sooner than Friday,” she purrs into your ear, gathering the file from her desk and walking you to the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day Miss Y/L/N,” she softly says with a smile, you smiling in response before watching her walk away to the elevator, hips swaying subtly before looking over her shoulder to send a wink your way as the doors closed.

Only three more days till Friday…

[joelsslvts]

𓆩⟡𓆪 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 — 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Joel Miller x Female!Reader — Jackson Era | Roommate AU

Enemies to lovers / Slow burn / Protective Joel / Age gap / Longfic-style

——————————————————————————

When Joel Miller first moved into Jackson, he expected peace. Routine. Something solid to hold onto.

What he didn’t expect was you.

They told him housing was tight, that Ellie would have her own spot a few streets down with some younger kids, and that they’d matched him with someone “easygoing” in one of the older houses near the stables. He didn’t care. He just wanted a bed that didn’t smell like blood or damp mold.

And then he met you.

You opened the front door barefoot, soft music floating in from a nearby record player. You wore an oversized flannel that clearly wasn’t his, hair messy, a chipped mug in your hand.

"Hi," you said, like you hadn’t just wrecked every expectation he had.

He blinked. “You’re my… roommate?”

“Looks like it,” you chirped. “You get the room upstairs. It’s quieter.”

He hated you instantly.

Not for any real reason, really. You hadn’t done anything. You were polite. Kept your side of the house clean. But you were young—too young, in his opinion. Not a kid, but not someone who should be anywhere near a man like him. You were always humming, baking things, helping the old man next door fix his radio. You walked around barefoot even in the cold. You smiled at everyone, even after patrols.

He hated how perfect you were.

And worse? You weren’t scared of him.

Most people in Jackson gave him space. Kept conversation short. They respected him, sure, but no one tried to know him. Except you.

You’d ask him if he wanted soup when you made extra. You told him goodnight every evening even if he didn’t respond. You’d leave out a cup of coffee on the table in the mornings with a little note—just in case you want it.

God, it drove him insane.

Joel kept his distance. Shut his bedroom door at night. Ate fast so he wouldn’t have to sit across from you too long. But he watched you. He couldn’t help it.

The way you sat on the couch with your knees pulled to your chest, reading. How you laughed quietly at the local kids trying to impress you. The way you stood outside during snowfalls like the world was still full of wonder.

He told himself you were a nuisance.

But then came the night you didn’t come home.

The town had a curfew for a reason. The streets weren’t dangerous like the outside world, but people still noticed when someone was late. Joel had paced the living room like a caged dog, waiting to hear your voice, to see your smile as you walked in and said, “Sorry! Got caught up talking to Maria!”

But the door never opened.

And when someone mentioned they’d seen you at the gates helping with a trade group, something snapped inside him.

By the time you stumbled through the front door, cheeks wind-chapped and hair windblown, Joel was already by the coat rack.

“Where the hell were you?”

You froze. “Joel? I—I told you I might be at the gates late tonight.”

“You didn’t come back.”

“I’m back now,” you said, confused, brushing snow off your jacket.

“You could’ve been hurt,” he barked.

You stepped back, hurt flickering behind your eyes. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

And then it happened. He didn’t mean for it to. But the truth ripped out of him, raw and jagged.

“You don’t belong out there! You—fuck—you don’t belong around me!”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Joel turned away, jaw clenched, running a hand through his hair like he could physically pull the feelings out of himself.

"You’re… light. You smile at people. You have hope. And you walk around this goddamn town like you ain’t seen what the world can do.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

Then, softly, “So you hate me because I’m not broken?”

His silence was the answer.

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I know what’s out there. I’ve lost people. But I chose to keep going. I chose to hold onto something good. That’s not a crime.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

You added, voice shaking, “But maybe you don’t hate me. Maybe you just don’t know what to do with someone who doesn’t hate you.”

He flinched at that.

You left him standing there in the hallway, alone.

And yet—something changed after that.

The next morning, you still made two cups of coffee. He took his this time.

You didn’t speak about the argument, but the air between you was different. Softer.

One night, he found you asleep on the couch, curled up with a blanket half-falling off your shoulder. He covered you with another and stood there longer than he should’ve, watching the gentle rise and fall of your breath.

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself. “What the hell are you doin’ to me?”

It took him weeks to admit it. Not out loud—God, no. But in small ways.

He walked you to the stables every morning. He patched your coat without asking. He saved the last slice of pie for you even though he wanted it.

One night, he fell asleep on the couch next to you. He hadn’t meant to. But when he woke up, your head was on his shoulder, and his arm was around you like it had always belonged there.

He didn’t move.

Eventually, he whispered, “You still make me nervous, you know that?”

You didn’t respond—still asleep, lips parted just slightly. But you shifted closer in your sleep, hand resting over his heart.

And Joel… let it stay there.

[ladycaramelswirl]

It Happened in Texas

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader ❤︎ Chapter 1: Apparently you have a magnet for shitty bosses

series masterlist

A/N: For plot purposes, Haley is not in the picture, but Jack does appear later in the story. Also I gave Strauss some of Linda Barnes’s personality so she’s really annoying :)

Tags/Warnings: mentions of violence typical to Criminal Minds. This becomes a comedy in chapter 2, but chapter 1 is very world/character-buildy, sorry 😭 It gets funnier I swear 🤡

The case in this chapter is loosely based on s3e8.

word count: 2k

Enjoy! 🤍

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Absolutely not”.

The dark-haired man tries to rein in his barely concealed anger at his boss, who, honestly, you weren’t exactly a huge fan of right now either. He gestures to you.

“I don’t know anything about her. It’s my job to decide whether someone is a good fit for the team”, he scowls. Frankly, you’re impressed that he hasn’t exploded.

“Agent Hotchner, I have hired her because I think she’s perfectly capable of doing the job”. 

You swallow a scoff. Sure. That’s why.

“My decision is final. And you have a case to get to”, Strauss snaps.

Agent Hotchner glares at her as she walks away. Then he turns his stare to you. 

“We’re leaving for a case in 10 minutes. Do you have your go bag?”, he asks, not unkindly.

“Yes sir.”

He nods and walks towards the BAU bullpen. You follow him. 

“I trust you’ll keep this altercation between us”, he tells you. “I don’t want the team to be distracted”.

“Yes, sir”.

“Just call me Hotch.”

“Yes, s- Hotch”.

He’s being pretty nice given the situation he’s been put in. But you wonder, not for the first time today, if you should have turned down this job.

————————————

15 minutes ago

“Come in”.

You step into the office of the blonde woman you’d interviewed with. She had been quite pleasant then.

“Assistant Director Strauss”, you greet her.

“Agent. Take a seat. I’d like to discuss some things before I introduce you to your unit chief”.

You wonder what the unit chief is like. You’d heard great things about Aaron Hotchner from your former colleagues. 

“As I’m sure you know this position at the BAU is a highly coveted opportunity”, she starts.

“Yes ma’am”.

“I’d like you to be comfortable here, so I hope we can work together to make that happen”.

Oh?

“Thank you ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

“Excellent! I’ll be expecting an additional personal report for all of your cases.”

“I’m sorry?”

She smiles at you like you’re stupid.

“Agent Hotchner might run a tight ship, but it’s my job to make sure it runs smoothly”, she tells you. “So I just need you to give me details about your cases. No need to mention it to Agent Hotchner, just write the report and send it straight to me.”

“You want me to report on the team? Without telling them?”

This was not what you signed up for.

She laughs mirthlessly. 

“It’s just a report agent. Think of it as a … peer evaluation. I just want to make sure there’s no issues. I’m sure you would understand. Especially after what happened in Houston?”

You grit your teeth. Of course she knew.

“Yes ma’am”.

You try to smile.

“I knew I was right to hire you”, she says. 

You both know you’re only here because she was the only one who accepted your transfer request. 

“Agent. If this conversation leaves this room, you’ll have to understand why I can no longer keep you on this team”.

Fantastic. You were already getting threatened on your first day. 

You plaster on a smile.

“Of course.”

She smiles back, just as fake.

“Great. Now I’ll introduce you to Agent Hotchner. You’ll have to forgive him for his … attitude”, she says contemptuously. “He’s going through a rough time”.

And now your boss was moody too? You were regretting come here by the second. 

Strauss presses the intercom button on her phone.

“Send him in”.

The door is opened by a tall, handsome man. He’s maybe in his late 30s, and he’s well dressed. He has authority figure written all over him, but he looks confused to see you.

“Assistant Director?”, he greets. You suspect it’s not often that he’s walked into a situation where he doesn’t know what’s happening. An exception being right now.

“Agent Hotchner, come in. I’d like you to meet Agent Y/L/N”.

He stretches a hand forward and you shake it. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise”.

He looks at Strauss. 

“What is this about?”

Strauss looks like she’s holding back a grin. 

“She’ll be joining the BAU effective immediately”.

Agent Hotchner looks like he’s just been handed a bomb.

———————————— 

Present

He doesn’t talk to you at all as you’re climbing into the jet. The team don’t pretend to hide their shock at your arrival. Hotch quickly introduces you and then takes a seat at the back. You politely smile at their wide eyes, but inside you try to fight the urge to turn around and go kick Strauss in the shin. She didn’t even tell them she was hiring you. Unbelievable. This day could not get any worse. The team starts asking you all sorts of questions. Hotch cuts them off.

“That’s enough. Brief us on the case JJ”.

They all follow his directive immediately. A pretty blonde woman who must be JJ hands everyone on the team a file. There’s a pause as everyone realises you don’t have one, because she didn’t know you would be here. A dark haired woman who introduces herself as Emily offers to share hers with you. You smile at her gratefully and try to be invisible as JJ briefs the team. 

—————————

Your first case is in Bridgewater, Florida. A girl has been found with her body eaten by alligators, her fingers cut off and a pentagram carved into her chest. It’s not exactly a great first day welcome. Hotch comes back from the coroner’s office with news that the victim had been force fed fingers before her death. And that none of them were hers, and six of them are index fingers. Remember when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse? This was definitely worse. You wince at the news and Emily looks at you with concern.

“You okay?”

You nod, but notice JJ and Agent Morgan discreetly share a dubious look. The latter turns to face you. 

“Field offices aren’t exactly the same as the BAU. If you’re not up to it-“

“I’m fine. I’d just like to catch the guy that did this”, you tell him. 

You refuse to look weak or feed into the suspicion that you don’t deserve to be here. Morgan stares at you before nodding in agreement and moving away to look over some files. You do the same to avoid any more conversation, and then notice something strange. You pull out a photo.

“This crime scene shows the books the victim was carrying were arranged into a neat row. This specific placement could suggest the unsub was at some point in a mental institution”.

Morgan looks doubtful, but still takes a look. 

Agent Reid springs up. “Of course! When the severely mentally ill are institutionalised, they’re taught to keep things clean and neat to promote order, exactly like the books in that photo!”

You’re a little speechless at his enthusiasm, but it seems his confirmation convinces the team, who now look a little less skeptical about your abilities. They call Garcia to check for names and update Hotch. Garcia calls back about a specific mental institution for a case like the one you’re looking for. Hotch immediately stands up to leave.

“Reid, let’s go”, he orders. The young genius scuttles after him. 

They find a name for the unsub, Floyd Feylinn Ferrel - a cannibal that believes he’s possessed by a flesh eating demon. He was also at the search party earlier to look for a missing girl. The team finds him, but one victim is still missing - Tracy Lambert. Floyd refuses to talk without Father Marks, the priest at his church. They bring him into the interrogation room with Morgan while you and Rossi pore over the sign in sheets from the search party. You frown. 

“Somethings wrong”, you mutter. The older agent looks at you in confusion.

“He signed the volunteer sheet, but not the search team sheet. It doesn’t make sense”, you say, handing him the papers. Usually unsubs joined the search team. Why would he just volunteer to be there?

“Father, I feel so alone. Like God has abandoned me”, Floyd laments. 

The priest shakes his head kindly. “You are not alone, my son. God is in all of us”.

Your stomach drops as you see exactly what Floyd had volunteered for - the food station. 

“We need to stop the interview”, you panic, flinging open the interrogation room door. 

Floyd stares right at you and grins. 

“So is Tracy Lambert”.

—————————

The plane ride back is quiet. You thankfully hadn’t eaten anything at the search, but you still feel nauseous. Is this what all BAU cases were like? Maybe it wasn’t too late to reapply somewhere else? Your unit chief interrupts your thoughts.

“Good job today Reid, we wouldn’t have caught him if you hadn’t noticed the books”, he says. You freeze in your seat, but the younger agent doesn’t notice your discomfort. In fact he barely looks up from his book to correct the unit chief. 

“Actually it wasn’t me that figured it out. It was y/n”.

Hotch looks taken aback and he turns to you, which leads to some awkward eye contact. He looks pained, but he gives you a nod and then moves to the back of the plane. 

Emily nudges your elbow from her seat next to yours. 

“You did good today. He’ll come around”, she tells you. 

“I really didn’t know that no one was informed of my transfer-”, you try to explain, but she stops you.

“I know better than anyone how you feel right now. As long as you do your job and are loyal to the team, everything’s going to be fine”. 

You nod. 

“Look, today was a rough case. We’re going for drinks when we land. Want to come?”, she offers.

You think about the report you’re about to write for Strauss tonight, detailing everything that just happened today. It’s going to take you hours to make sure it doesn’t incriminate anyone on the team. 

“No, I’m tired, but thanks. You guys have fun”.

On the drive home, you realise that you won’t ever be friends with them. You were a spy, even if you didn’t want to be. 

You had come here to escape. Instead, you had just traded one prison for another. 

————————————

Emily enters Penelope’s office to pick her up before drinks.

Penelope greets her with a guilty look.

“Ok. I did something, but don’t be mad. I looked into her file”.

“Pen!”

“What? She’s new, I don’t like new. And we don’t know anything about her. Don’t you want to know how she got hired without Hotch’s approval?”

Emily raises an eyebrow.

“I was hired without Hotch’s approval.”

Penelope gives her puppy eyes and Emily gives in.

“Fine. What did you find?”

The analyst practically lights up.

“Ok, so she graduated the FBI academy with high scores. Went straight to the Houston field office and she was very good at her job - excellent peer reviews and high scores on all of her evaluations”, Penelope starts, putting all of your personal data onto her screen. “Almost everything about her is perfect. Except-“, she clicks on a file. “About two months ago she suddenly requested a transfer to basically every department that was hiring and got rejected by almost all of them. Except ours”. 

Emily frowns. “She has stellar performance evaluations but no one wants to hire her? And why was she so desperate to transfer?”

“Yeah, I thought that was weird too, so I looked into it, but there’s nothing. Except that in her last month at Houston, she isn’t listed on a single one of their cases.”

“None?”

“It’s like she didn’t exist, but she was there every day, I checked her attendance and it’s flawless”.

Emily presses her lips together. She remembers how much she had tried to seal her own history. 

“I don’t think we should be looking anymore. If whatever happened isn’t in the database, then we aren’t meant to see it. She’ll tell us when she’s ready”.

Penelope looks apprehensive, but she closes the files. 

“She’s really nice! And she’s good, she helped us solve the case today”, Emily tries to convince the IT specialist. 

“I’m telling you something is fishy”.

Emily might not say it out loud, but she definitely agreed.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Chapter 2

[finxwrites]

strange & grimm, which btw sounds like an urban fantasy affectionately parodic hardboiled detective agency. probably queer.

It was a hot, muggy night in the Enchanted Forest. Everyone with a lick of sense was down in the fairy glens, hoping the Winter Court would put in an appearance and bring a breeze on with them. Lucky me, I’m the sucker who fingered the Snow Queen for the missing persons case last winter, so I’m persona non grata in the fairy glens these days.

Just as well. I couldn’t afford to leave the office, not when it’d been so long since my last case. Though on a night like this, I might as well not bother. It was too hot for crime. Even the leaves on the enchanted trees were drooping in the heat. 

I was just about to call it a night when a dame walked in my door. Tall, blonde, legs for days, with an air of tragedy that could put an unloved stepchild to shame. I looked her over suspiciously for any cheery woodland creatures hidden in her golden ringlets. If she was a princess, I’d turf her right back out of the office, case unheard. Princesses paid well, but they were more trouble than they were worth.

No mice poked their adorable little noses out of her pockets as the dame sank into a chair and fixed me with a hard look. “I hear you’re the best in the business,” she said without preamble. “And I need the best.”

I leaned back in my seat. “Baby, I’m the only one in the business. It’s not a good genre for private dicks.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, far too child-friendly for any sort of dicks.” Before I could recover from that little gem, she went on, “It’s a child I’m here about. My sister. She’s…she’s gone missing.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Please, Detective, you’re my last hope. The royal courts won’t hear me out, they think she’s gone on the lam!”

I nodded grimly. “One of those Bo Peep situations, huh?” I get a depressing number of those. All it takes is one wolf in sheep’s clothing—you’d think the kids would learn.

The dame glared. There was enough cold iron in her gaze to put a fairy off her ambrosia. “On the lam, Detective. On the run. My sister has…something of a record.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Your sister the child? She some kind of crime prodigy?”

The dame fidgeted, looking away. “She’s…” She sighed explosively. “My sister is Goldilocks.”

I whistled, low and long. Crime prodigy indeed—Goldilocks was wanted in five kingdoms for the most impressive string of burglaries the Enchanted Forest had ever seen. No one could ever prove she’d done it, but the circumstantial evidence had piled up higher than mattresses on a pea. No wonder no royal court would take this case.

The dame’s shoulders hunched defensively, but she bulled on without trying to defend her wayward sister. “She’s gone missing, and I know it’s not another one of her sprees. Something is wrong this time.” She turned back to meet my eyes, her lovely features harsh with poorly-suppressed fear. “It’s her first crime come back to haunt her, I just know it is. They’ve always wanted revenge—especially the baby of the family, and he’s all grown up now. What they’d do if they got hold of her—“ She cut herself off with a watery gasp; her eyes were wet with tears. “Oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about!”

I handed her a handkerchief and gave her a minute to compose herself. It gave me a minute, too, to decide if I was really going to be this stupid. You don’t tangle with the big predators, not if you know what’s good for you, and especially not a whole family of them. Families are a dangerous thing in any genre.

But I was her last hope, and I’m a sucker for lost causes. And if I didn’t get paid soon, this business would become a lost cause itself. I said a silent farewell to my good sense as it packed its bags and left for kinder climes. “Alright,” I told the dame, “Give me the facts. We’ll see what kind of a story they tell.”

[lost-in-the-land-of-stories]

Elisabeth de Musical 2025 Review (DeLaMar, 22-03-25 Previews)

Hello friends, been a while since I did serious Elisabeth posting, but GUESS WHO WENT TO SEE THE NEW DUTCH SHOW DURING PREVIEWS >:3

I figured it might be nice to have a bit of a report/review for if you’re considering going to see this version of the show, especially if you have to come from abroad to do so. I will do a spoiler-free section first, and then hide my spoiler thoughts under the cut (just a heads-up, I wrote 2000 words of just rambling thoughts immediately after coming home last weekend so this post is LongTM).

Spoiler Free Review

I was really excited to watch a fresh take on Elisabeth from within the area that just takes over the German-language staging, and I was not disappointed. This take on Elisabeth makes some big swings and changes and while there are a few I have complicated thoughts on, overall I really liked it.

The cast is incredibly talented, and the creative direction was fresh and interesting and thoughtful. The choices made feel deliberate and interesting, the new sets are both beautiful and combine having to be moved because the show is touring with not looking lazy/confined by the fact they’re for a tour (in case you’re wondering, yes that’s shade on the non-existent sets and boring screens they used in the previous German-language tour and the endless concerts). It still is a little pared-down, don’t expect 04-05 Vienna opulence, but the choices made feel more like they were made for creative reasons than simply so the show is moveable. There are screens, yes, but they are used in interesting fashion, and the sets that are used call back to older stagings in interesting ways as well as bringing a fresh new approach. I would love a bit more opulence, but I won’t deny that watching the Toho and Takarazuka productions a lot specifically primes you to look for that.

The costumes I am a bit more in the middle about; there are fewer and they are more simple at times than I would like, but there are also a number of really beautiful costumes and I once again do understand why they did what they did; it’s a deliberate choice, and I respect that. The one thing I’ll say here and not in spoilers because I have the picture up anyway; I fucking LOVE that they gave de Dood back his red coat. Original Dutch Death Stanley Burleson had a red coat and devilish motif, and I utterly love that they brought that back for Milan. It feels a little bit uniquely Dutch, I don’t recall any other recurring productions that use it a lot, and that makes me immensely fond of it.

The cast is absolutely incredible and I have essentially nothing but good things to say. Danique Dusée is amazing as Young Sisi, she has a really incredible way of bringing both a real boisterous youthful energy while also pulling of incredible vulnerability, without coming across as helpless. It was impressive to see, and I really enjoyed her Sisi. I also really like her singing, though I miss the very high soprano type Sisi vocals, her voice is beautiful and I enjoyed it immensely. I also really loved getting to see Pia Douwes actually performing Elisabeth, instead of just singing. I’ve seen her in concert a bunch of times now but this hit so different. While you can tell that she is getting on in years and her voice is perhaps not quite what it once was, I super just do not care. Her acting is truly amazing and you can just feel how much she’s lived and embodied this part. I really appreciated that they used a switch-cast, it created a very interesting change in dynamic with Death, and it was overall very well done (minor spoiler, I suppose, but it’s relevant to know that this isn’t like the concert versions and the switch takes place at the end of act 1, during the reprise of Ich Gehör nur Mir).

I loved Milan van Waardenburg as de Dood, he’s super bitchy and sassy and FUN, and as I already said the red coat just, chef’s kiss. His voice is beautiful, he hits both beautiful low notes and insanely high ones, and his chemistry with both Pia and Danique was amazing.

As for the rest of the cast, I really liked William Spaaij as Lucheni, he’s very fun but also gets very dark at times. My one complaint is that his Italian pronunciation isn’t that great, and it would have been nice to see an actual Italian as Lucheni for ONCE, but that’s not his fault. Guido Gottenbos’ Franz-Joseph is incredibly sympathetic (if terribly foolish) and his voice is really warm and beautiful. I don’t usually have a lot of sympathy for Franz, but he really sold it. And he somehow worked with both young and older Sisi, which I’ve certainly seem happen differently. AND ANN VAN DEN BROECK AS SOPHIE!!!!! Holy hells she was perfect and I adore her and it’s no surprise that my favourite European Sisi would also be my favourite European Sophie, I suppose. She sells the humanity of Sophie so well, and while she is terribly cruel you can see that she doesn’t mean badly. Chef’s kiss. No notes. Please, I want to see her play Old Sisi someday as well. Ronald Jorritsma was a very endearing Rudolf, even though his role was significantly cut down (not in time on stage, but in relevance, further elaboration in the spoiler section). The ensemble was also very good, with some incredibly beautiful and powerful voices and a lot of really cool energy. Noah Bellaart, the Young Rudolf I saw, was also very talented!

Overall, I can just say that this was a really really solid new addition. The cast was excellent, and the sets and costumes (though I missed some small aspects there) were really good. I have some critical points, but I will elaborate those below, because they’re all super spoilery and honestly? I would recommend going into this almost blind. It was really fun to discover the new things they did and the changes they made in the theatre in my seat. So if you’re going to see it? Don’t read this next part, come back once you have. If you just want to live vicariously through my endless rambling; read on:

Spoiler Review

Right. So. SPOILERS TIME. This is going to be not chronological and kind of thematic, so uh, strap in.

Let me start with the big things; this show takes a more abstract approach to some things than the older staging does, filled with different and new metaphors that are really fascinating to me. It is very Dutch in that some things feel a little more toned down, but in ways that I found to be very very interesting. The first big thing is that Lucheni is not questioned by a judge, he is questioned by the Ensemble. They each ask him questions in turn as Sisi is already on stage, lying prone at the centre of a turning section of the stage. As the prologue winds down she is essentially resurrected in front of our eyes and the black mourning clothes are torn off her by the ensemble, before she is tumbled back into her own story. For the entire rest of the show, the Ensemble (when not in specific courtly roles) show up in painters outfits and carrying easels, and paint whatever scene is taking place in front of them. They are, because of this, almost constantly on stage. This fits in really well with the projections/screens they do use, because they are nearly all paintings or drawings of Sisi or the other major characters. Similarly, Sisi, Death and Lucheni also barely ever leave the stage. Like I said, we start with Danique already right there, but she barely ever leaves at all. Because of this painter theme, there is also a large blue ‘person’ puppet that Franz is posing with at some point which was hilarious, especially because Sisi rearranges it comfortably onto a chair later.

This does also lead to one of the things I like less, that is that she has way fewer costumes than is ‘usual’ and runs around in her white ‘nightgown’ for a very large part of Act 1. While I understand the choice (both as a practical one and a symbolic one, it makes her stand out against all the historical costumes around her), I do miss some of her other costumes and I did think it odd she was going to Hungary in her nightgown. It does contrast beautifully with Pia’s black nightgown in Act 2, though.

So, the biggest interesting change for me is probably Elisabeth smokes now. I know she historically did so anyway, but it’s never been in the musical before. If you had told me before I went to see, I would have been very sceptical about it, because it feels like that’s just the thing in all the movies about her right now and I would have worried it was gonna be tacky. It is very much not. Oh, about that, Death also smokes. He has one of those old fashioned stick things that you stick a cigarette into and it is. So much. It really suits him and the smoke creates an excellent effect. And the way they integrated it was just really really cool. So basically he offers her a smoke, a bunch of times, and whether or not she takes it is very intimately related to the state of her mental health. There is the moment after she gives Franz the letter, when he shows up and they sit down on a ledge together and Sisi offers Death a smoke, and something about that image crawled right into my brain and gave me the brainworms. It’s like he’s a personification of all of her bad habits, her bad thoughts; almost less like Death and more a manifestation of self-destruction. It’s really cool and the energy it brings is somehow both way more toned down than some of the big choreographies they’ve had in the past, but also incredibly raw and emotional in a way that gets what they mean across just so, so well.

Danique, as stated, is incredibly capable of showing both Sisi’s strength and her vulnerability. She is very powerful during Ich Gehör nur Mir, and then after baby Sophie’s death there is a sadness and misery to her that I don’t think I’ve seen in that moment in quite that way before. The kind of drag out the moment a tad longer, in more silence than it is in a lot of productions, which means there is a moment where Franz walks in to comfort her and she basically cowers away from him against Sophie’s coffin, raising both her arms and hiding, and it utterly destroyed me.

Pia’s acting is just utterly incredible. Because they get to switch halfway, the power differential between Death and Sisi changes, and that is really something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced quite this starkly. She somehow speaks to Death both as an old friend and an annoying ex, with deep familiarity born of history together. She’s so regal and powerful and there’s something so very sad about her, while also tapping into some of the callousness and dejection really well. She really leaned into the emotion. One of the things I’m not super fond of in Act 2 is that the smoking escalates to her injecting herself with coke, which, again does make sense historically but it was a bit much and I’m not sure that we needed it, and also she does it at the end of Wenn Ich Tanzen Will which is supposed to be her moment of triumph and that felt like it really undercut that.

I fucking loved Nichts, Nichts, but then I always do, because I am just like that. The entire scene in the madhouse was really heartbreaking, and her dress was incredible. She gets a purple dress with black gulls along the skirt, which just was absolutely gorgeous.

Like I said above, Milan as Death was something else. I felt like he really fit in well with the Dutch Death’s tradition; he’s cold and calculating and mean. I didn’t really get a romantic vibe from him with Sisi at all, even though he states lyrically that he loves her. It feels more like wanting to possess her, and honestly he really did feel like more of a manifestation of the depression and the bad habits than anything else. Like that mean voice in your head, the devil on your shoulder. I adore it. He was really fun and bitchy and super fun with Lucheni as well. Also, if smoking is bad for you why does it look so cool (on stage, in real life I actually do think it's disgusting). I also found the choices with his choreography very interesting. He moves around less than a lot of previous Death’s, but in standing imperiously in corners and watching he is somehow incredibly menacing. It was really cool.

As is regular now, Schwarze Prinz is replaced by Kein Kommen Ohne Gehen, and for the first time in ever that didn’t make me want to throw things. Danique and Milan sold it pretty well, even though I do still prefer the other version.

The change from having a judge to having the ensemble question Lucheni also changed his entire relationship with them, which was very interesting. Lucheni seems very ambivalent to Sisi, and the change from him claiming she wanted to die at the beginning of the piece to him admitting that she just Was There at the end is somehow much more prominent like this. William plays him very dark, at times also kind of miserable himself, and while he and Death interact I feel like a little bit less, Lucheni is ALWAYS paying attention to him.

One of the other major changes is Schatten. This one is going to be controversial, I already know that. During the song, both Sisi and Lucheni are on stage in the background. Sisi has just done drugs, and Lucheni is cutting his own chest with a piece of a broken mirror he hurled at Sisi earlier. This, as it is as you can guess, INTENSE, is kind of really distracting from Rudolf. This is what I meant when I said Rudolf’s role is smaller; he’s very much less the focus of the story. Death really doesn’t seem to give a single fuck about him, he’s really just using him for his own gain, and because his big duet with Death is very busy now I found myself unable to focus quite so well on him. He’s still really good, especially in Spiegel, but he’s just drawing a lot less focus. The contrast to this is that Rudolf does just stay on stage for a very long time, in the background of other scenes, before his death. He is lying on the floor on stage when Sisi returns at the beginning of Spiegel. There also isn’t a kiss between him and Death, instead he aims in his mouth as Death just watches on impassively, uncaring as the ensemble lifts and carries him offstage and one of them returns with a candle. Similarly, when Sisi begs him to take her too, he doesn’t even consider it; he just straight up tells her ‘no’ with a cold smile on his face, which is quite a lot less conflicted and angry than he often is in that scene. Basically the entire energy is different, and while I’ve found that I do in fact like it, if Rudolf is your boy then I imagine this entire thing will be disappointing. Usually I’m more up in arms if Death and Rudolf don’t even kiss, but somehow it makes a lot of sense for this version where the ‘romantic’ appeal of Death to the characters seems a lot more absent anyway.  

Hass is as disconcerting as always, which was to be expected, but I think they’ve gotten better at integrating it with the story. I have some complicated feelings about Rudolf being the character trying to warn others of n*zis, effectively casting him in a very heroic light, what with the rest of his messy history, but at the same time I think it was important in the current climate to extra emphasise that n*zi’s are BAD (because apparently people don’t just always know that anymore), and having one of the major characters specifically point that out makes the scene read less ambiguously as I know some people have taken it in the past. I don’t like the scene, but I can still acknowledge that it’s important to have in the show.

Am Deck was really well done. Lucheni shows up with fake skulls and starts talking to and about them, and I (because archaeologists are a little weird) found this both incredible funny and a really good addition. The face-off between Death and Franz is really well done, and I really enjoyed it.

The ending felt ominous, not happy, to me, which I really really like. It felt very reminiscent of the 1999 production, which I really enjoy.

Overall the script was largely based on 1999, but I could tell that they have updated it in a variety of ways and I also recognised some of the 2009 Antwerp texts. There are some lyrics that I wish they’d changed but haven’t (we still have to deal with ‘ik houd niet van huichelarij’ which I just think is a silly line), but overall I thought this was a very good translation that’s been updated to the times very well. They also changed ‘muisje’ (mouse) to ‘kikker’ (frog), when Rudolf tells Death what he killed that day, which SURE HELPS WITH NOT HAVING ME MISHEAR IT AS ‘meisje’ (girl). So Thank You to whomever changed that. They also changed something in the lyrics to Letzte Tanz which I really enjoyed. They updated it overall but they did something very fun where the second line went from:

“de laatste dans, de laatste dans, dans ik alleen met jou”

To

“de laatste dans, de laatste, dans ik alleen met jou”

Which is really fun wordplay if you ask me and Milan pulled it off really well.

Overall, I just have to give this show an absolutely 10/10. Sure there are some choices that I may have made differently, but I am just super excited that they made new choices at all. Absolutely tipping my hat to the entire creative team, the people updating the lyrics, the set design and the cast itself. Thank you for the wonderful experience. I am 100% gonna go see this again.

Oh, and if you want me to ramble on more just ask me questions. I fully must have forgotten some of it already.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

A Deal (Hannibal)

Description: Hannibal kidnaps Y/N to get to Will.

Word Count:1,221

Request:

Hi,

could you please write a yandere Hannibal one-shot, where he holds the reader captive and wants to kill a friend of her‘s who is suspicious of him,but the reader convinces hin not to/tries to distract him?

Why was Hannibal trying to kill Will Graham? Simple. He knew about him being the Chesapeake ripper and Will worked in the FBI.The only thing that was stopping him from doing it was his best friend who had no idea about Hannibal but was an easy way to lure Will in. Y/N sat in the dark, tied to the chair with a blindfold on.

The room smelt on meat but she couldn’t place what kind of meat it was. Her senses were off due to the stress of being kidnapped in her sleep. She hadn’t had any clue who would do this or why. She knew that struggling to get out of the chair wasn’t a good idea but she tried anyway. Hannibal stood and watched her as she tried to escape. It was cute, really. “You won’t be getting out that easy.” She stopped struggling upon hearing a voice.

One that sounded familiar but she couldn’t place a name or face to. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” She asked. He wasn’t worried about her screaming, nobody would hear. “You have something I want.” She scoffed at that, “I have something you want? Why not take it instead of me?” “It’s not that easy.” She rolled her eyes under the blindfold and sighed.

She wasn’t scared it seemed. She wasn’t crying or screaming for help. That intrigued Hannibal. “Will Graham.” That person said, Her friend that she works with in the FBI? What would they want with him? “What about him?” “He knows some information that he shouldn’t.” She laughed a little at that, “So what, you want him killed?” Though she thought that it was ridiculous she couldn’t help but wonder why she was here. “More like I am going to kill him and we are going to have him for dinner.” Her laughing stopped, that was creepy.

“So you wanna kill him and eat him but that doesn’t answer why I am here.” He was closer to her by the time she was done talking. “Will is in love with you.” This felt like a sick joke. Will hadn’t shown any interest in her. “Yeah right.” She didn’t believe him but that wasn’t the point. “You don’t have to believe me. He will come for you and I will kill him.” She wished she could see his face, and know the crazy person that was wanting to kill Will.

“Okay what if you’re wrong?” She asked. He got the feeling that she wasn’t buying any of this and it was some sick joke. She was about to be proven wrong. “If I am wrong you will either help me or I will kill you too.” Wow this guy was full of tricks. “Why not let me call him over here and get this over with?” She acted as if she didn’t care what happened to her friend. “I refuse to let your hands free.” He told her and that made sense.

He knew that she was in the FBI but she also knew how to fight. “Grab my phone, I will tell you the password and call him for me.” She said, Her phone was on the table in the same room. She could hear him walking to get it and she smirked. She gave him the password and he clicked on Will’s contact. “What do you want me to say?” She asked him. “Act scared. He will trace the call to this location.” This guy was smart. He called Will and put the phone on speaker. It rang 3 times before he answered and he sounded very sleepy, “Hello?” It was time for Y/N to act. “Will, I don’t know where I am and I’m scared.” She whispered to the phone.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Yes but it’s called and this person has me tied up and I can barely see.” Hannibal was impressed by her acting skills. “Okay Okay um let me call the cops. “No! You have to come alone.” Will was confused by that. “Why?” She sighed and looked around, “This might be our next case just come alone.” “Okay I’m gonna trace the call.” He hung up the phone and Y/N sighed, “You just got Will Graham into a death trap.” She scoffed at his words. “That what you think?” Hannibal could tell that she wasn’t one to get scared easily.

“You are very smart Y/N but are you smart enough to get out of this?” “You said this was about Will not me. I am leverage.” “You don’t care if he dies?” Of course she did but this guy can’t know her weaknesses. “I think it’s funny that you think you are going to kill him.” She tells him. It was back and forth that they were playing this game. She didn’t think he would get to kill Will and he told her that he had his ways and that Will would be dead. When Will finally showed up to the house, Hannibal excused himself.

Y/N heard him leave the room to answer the door. She took it upon herself to throw herself back and break the wooden chair. Something she’s glad she didn’t do when she first found out she was tied up. She removed the blindfold and looked around. Meat was hanging around her and she put it together after their conversations that he was a cannibal. She left the room and heard them talking. Will had a gun pointed at Hannibal and asked him where Y/N was.

Y/N listened as Hannibal talked. He was very intelligent and wise. The guy knew what he was doing. Will was sceptical of him already. Y/N came into view and Hannibal looked a little surprised. “Will, I am okay.” She said and Will sighed. “So you’re the guy that kidnapped me.” She said and smirked. “You don’t seem surprised.” She shrugged, “Only you would be obsessed with Will like this.” Will held back a laugh at her comment. “It’s over Hannibal.” Will said.

He had nowhere to run or hide. He wasn’t getting away this time. “You don’t think I have ways to hurt you Will?” He asked. “You don’t think I won’t hunt you down even if it’s 5 years from now?” Y/N looked between the two of them. “What do you want besides him dead? What can we give you to not do this?” She knew that they didn’t have proof of him killing anyone or that meat in the room she was in was human. “Stop working on the case of the Chesapeake ripper.” He said and Will laughed. “Okay.” She said and Will looked at her like she was crazy.

She looked back at him, “We won’t work on the case anymore. You will.” She looked at Hannibal. “You’re gonna find him or her and bring them to us. We can take it from there.” Hannibal’s face almost dropped. “I can check what the meat is if you say No.” She told him. “You have yourself a deal.” He tells her and Will still doesn’t drop the gun. He doesn’t trust the man and frankly he never truly will. But Hannibal was going to have to get a lot more smarter if he didn’t want the truth to get out.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Another Brick In The Wall | Supernatural Series Rewrite | A doctorbitchcrxft Original | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem! Reader

Warnings: oh lawd. all the warnings. just. all of them. please be cautious if you are a victim of sexual abuse, verbal abuse, religious trauma, or loss of a loved one. canon gore always applies. i never write anything exceedingly graphic for the sake of shock factor as i feel it is unnecessary, and if any of my content does not accurately warn its readers, please let me know

Word Count: 4005

A/N: Ugh. My heart is so full. Thank you, everyone, for reading and loving my stories. I love you. 

Fair warning: I want this season to feel like laying in bed staring at the wall in the dark wrapped in a big sweater while Preacher's Daughter plays in the background. And perhaps you’re laying on the mattress curled in a ball facing away from an estranged lover who sleeps soundly beside you. Let me know if I accurately evoke that feeling as we go along….

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“Uriel! Get your ass down here!”

“What have I said about your attitude, (Y/N),” Uriel warned, appearing behind you with the sound of flapping feathers. 

“Sorry, but this is an emergency,” you said, pacing around the dark cabin. You pointed to the television with the remote and rewound to the portion of the news covering you. 

Uriel just stared at you blankly with an eyebrow raised. 

You gave him a questioning and expectant look. “Are… you gonna help me?”

“I thought you said you were careful,” the angel droned. 

You scoffed. “I was! I mean—” you pointed to the television that you’d paused on the frame of your face— “I’ve got different hair, and you can’t see hardly any of my face, but this isn’t great that they’ve somehow connected every-fucking-thing to me!” 

Uriel sighed, clearly frustrated with you. “What do you expect me to do, then? In case you haven’t noticed, Heaven’s preparing for war. I don’t have time to handle every inconvenience for you.”

“Whoa, what?’ you asked, startled. “Heaven’s preparing for war?”

“Hell won’t exactly be thrilled about giving up their new plaything,” he replied evenly. 

You swallowed harshly at the degrading mention of your partner. “When’s he coming back?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Uriel answered. 

“What, why?!”

“(Y/N)—”

“No, why can’t you tell me?!” You marched up to Uriel with your finger in his face. “I’ve done so much for you fucking freaks, and you can’t tell me when he’s coming back?!” 

Uriel’s eyes hardened, and a clap of lightning caused you to jump away from him as the shadow of his impressive wings appeared on the wall behind him. 

“Okay,” you said timidly, still trying to appear tough, “I clearly pushed you a little far. I’m sorry.”

“That is your final warning, (Y/N). If you speak back to me again, I won’t be so forgiving,” Uriel stated firmly through gritted teeth. 

****

You drove to the outskirts of Pontiac, Illinois; the town where Dean was buried. You wanted to be there and lay eyes on him when he returned, and you figured it best to keep state-hopping to avoid police and prosecution. 

Much to your surprise, the small little town you’d laid Dean to rest in was completely abandoned. The gas station nearby looked like it had been ransacked, and all of its windows had been completely busted up.

‘What happened here?’ you thought. With your heart in your throat, you approached the little wooden cross Sam had fashioned to mark Dean’s grave and saw a human-sized hole that seemed to have been dug from the inside out. Your body shuddered in relief: Dean was alive! It was then you noticed the perfect circle of trees that had been blown over and away from Dean’s grave. There was no doubt in your mind that that angel Uriel had told you about had something to do with this. You wondered if it was an angel you’d heard of before or found a vessel for. 

You took your phone out of your pocket and found it without reception. 

‘Definitely an angel, then,’ you thought. 

How familiar you were becoming with angels was beginning to frighten you a bit. If only your mom could see you now. A smile crossed your face at the thought.

Even with as complicated a woman as your mother was, you loved her with all of your heart. She never occupied much of your thoughts; the memory of her was far too painful. With all the angel business recently, though, you were thinking of her more and more. 

You thought of the times she’d bandage your bruised knuckles when you’d used the tree outside your motel room as a punching bag to get out all of your frustrations. You thought of her teaching you to read and write, and the way she’d hum while she brushed your hair. You’d grimace and tell her she was tugging too hard, but now, you wished you had just one more lazy morning with her listening to her quiet song. 

She would tell you that god had a plan for your life and to unload all of your sorrows on him. So, you did. You would pray every night for him to take your suffering away; ‘please, god, I want this to be over.’ And it never was. Each new day brought another round of watching Steven, another round of training, or another fight with your father where your mother stood idly by. You felt trapped in an endless cycle. You felt god had abandoned you. 

Now, knowing for sure that all of that was in his “divine plan,” you pitied your mother. Maybe she really believed that god was going to save her and her children. Maybe she really believed that her first commitment was to her partner, and the Catholic doctrine taught that she shouldn’t divorce him. She never spoke much to you about her thoughts on your father’s treatment of you and Steven, but her actions demonstrated that whether she believed he was right or not, she would stand by him. The day you realized your mother loved her religion more than she loved you was the day you lost all faith in god.

****

You knew it wasn’t safe for you and Dean to be around each other. You knew you’d only be endangering the brothers and undoubtedly, Bobby, if you started running with them again. Everything in you screamed at you to go to Dean, but you fought yourself every step of the way. 

Instead, you tried to focus on nailing down their location so you could be sure to stay as far away as possible. Bobby’s number was the only one to remain reachable, so you tracked his. They were still in Pontiac, which meant you needed to get away fast. One last time, you went to the grave site where you’d buried Dean, his amulet feeling heavy around your neck.

Suddenly, you heard wings flapping behind you. “What do you want, Uriel?” You didn’t even bother to turn around.

“I see you’re in better spirits than I left you,” the angel answered.

“That’s not what I would call it,” you said. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, okay? I feel like we’ve progressed far beyond that in our relationship.” You turned to face the angel, who looked stoic as ever. 

“I have another job for you,” Uriel explained. 

You scoffed. “What? Dean’s out. I’m done now. I’ve got enough goin’ on with the feds on my tail.”

“You are done when I say you are,” Uriel asserted. “You are not done.” 

You suppressed an eye roll, knowing it wouldn’t get you far with him. None of the angels enjoyed your petulance; it was in your best interest to simply follow along. “What can I do for you?” 

“What you’ve always done,” the angel responded simply.

You hung your head low, glaring at the ground. “Uriel, I gotta be honest, man,” you sighed. “I’m exhausted. These guys you have me tearin’ to shreds are innocent.” “It is a test of their faith, (Y/N),” Uriel explained. 

That caught you off-guard. “What?” you breathed out. 

“What, you thought you were our first step? There is a process,” he replied. 

“And you decided to tell me that now?!” you questioned angrily. 

“It wasn’t important for you to know at the time,” Uriel answered simply. “You didn’t need all the details.”

“And why do I need them now?” 

“Because you’re beginning to doubt,” the angel stated. “I have no room for that. We are on a strict timeline.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “So, what, you guys ask politely, and then, you use me?” you asked. 

“No, child. We each approach our vessels independently. We allow them an escape from their problems. And we demonstrate to them that their faith will be tested. That’s where you come in,” he explained. 

“I still don’t understand,” you shook your head. “Why not just ask ‘em to kill their only sons up on a mountain, or something?” 

“Primitive,” Uriel dismissed. “And not a strong enough test of their faith. The body endures much when possessed by an angel. At any moment, the angel can be forced out. The pain you inflict acts as a vetting process of sorts. If they can endure whatever you’ve put them through and remain faithful, we won’t have to worry about our vessels betraying us.”

You allowed yourself a moment to process that information. “That’s fucking crazy, you know that, right?”

“You are lucky I have grown a tolerance to your sharp tongue. Zachariah would have cut it out.” 

When you looked back up from the ground, the angel was gone. 

****

That evening as you drove out of Pontiac, you heard the ringing in your ears again. Your head whipped to the right, and you thought, ‘Castiel.’

A man with dark hair and sculpted features was watering his garden while a blonde-headed child rode her scooter around the driveway. 

“Oh, god,” you muttered to yourself. ‘This poor bastard.’

Suddenly, you realized what name you’d heard: Castiel. Your mother’s favorite of the angels. The one she prayed to when she wanted him to give your father the gift of temperance. 

Anger and hurt boiled in your shattered heart. Tears swam in your eyes as you realized that even the angel your mother felt such a close personal connection to never cared. This was a worse reality than you could have ever imagined: he was real, god was real, and angels were real; and yet, none of them cared. 

To make matters worse, a girl was going to grow up without a father because of you. A girl with a seemingly kind and doting father was going to mourn the rest of her life because of you. Your mind and body no longer felt like your own. If Heaven wanted you for their brutal crusade, you were to comply. All you had become was an inconsequential weapon; a means to achieve an end. What would happen to you when Heaven no longer had a use for you? 

The anxiety that clawed at your chest when Dean was gone hadn’t subsided even though he was back. Uriel insisted that he was no longer giving you the nightmares, but they would persist now and again anyway. And on days where you didn’t dream of Dean, you dreamt of the pain you inflicted. You could no longer recognize yourself. Quite literally, you had become a shell of the person you were. Your skin lacked color and plumpness. The life had been completely drained from your eyes. 

More than just not wanting to drag Dean into your troubles with the law, you would be embarrassed to see him. In truth, you weren’t proud of the person you’d become. 

You thought that saving Dean would make you feel whole again. Admittedly, a stupid and naive thing to think, but you were convinced it would help you feel like yourself again. In actuality, you just felt more anxious. You knew that Dean and Bobby had been searching for— and probably found— Sam and would now be turning that attention to you. 

It wasn’t that you never wanted to see Dean again; that was so far from the truth. You just wanted to see him when you were ready. If you had it your way, when you gained a little weight back, had some color in your cheeks, and were completely out of the law’s sights.

For now, though, Jimmy Novak was your project. Castiel had already been testing him, and he was teetering on the edge of ready to give you a “yes.” 

You’d found a location to carry out your task at. It was an abandoned house nestled in the trees about two miles past Dean’s grave. Perfectly remote, especially now since the surrounding town had been wiped off the map by the angel; you just needed to get Jimmy in the trunk of your car. 

His wife brought their daughter to dancing on Tuesday nights, and you knew that was your window of opportunity. As anxiety-inducing as kidnapping should be, it was one of the only times you felt calm. That frightened you a bit, but you assumed it was due to the repetitive nature of your new version of hunting. As much as you hated to admit it, you were good at what you did. 

****

To soothe your complicated feelings toward your current situation, you hummed “Laughing on the Outside” by Bernadette Carroll to yourself on a loop while you waited for Jimmy to wake up. When he finally began to stir, you steeled your nerves and stopped your song. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” you said. 

Immediately, he began to struggle. “Wh— What is this? Who the fuck are you?!”

“Look,” you sighed. “Relax, okay? Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen to you as long as you do what I say.”

“What the fuck—?!”

“Hey, Jimmy—” his head snapped to face yours when he heard you say his name— “I know Castiel has been reaching out to you; testing you.”

The man stopped struggling. “How— How do you know that?”

“All you have to do is say ‘yes.’ Just let him possess you, okay?” you urged. 

“Are you out of your mind?” he panicked. 

“Listen, buddy, you’re the one who believes there’s a giant man floating around in the sky. Which one of us is really out of their mind?”

That seemed to silence him. You gave him a moment to think. “What do I have to do?” he asked. 

“Wait, really?” you scoffed. “You’re makin’ it that easy for me?”

“I mean, I guess,” he replied. “Castiel said something about being tested. I, uh— I guess this is it.”

You nodded. “Damn. You’ve got way stronger faith than any of the other poor guys I’ve dealt with. Nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

He looked at you, confusion written all over his face, before he looked toward the sky in awe. Then, Castiel took over his body. His eyes flashed a brilliant blue, and he easily broke out of the ropes you had his hands bound with. 

As soon as you could tell the man in front of you had changed to Castiel, tears filled your eyes. 

Castiel seemed confused. “Why are you upset, (Y/N)? You’ve done great work.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you said firmly, turning away from him. 

The angel sighed. “This is about your mother, isn’t it?”

You tried to stifle your cries so you could answer him. “You— You knew she was praying to you? You knew she needed help?” You spun back around to him, angry. “You knew I needed help?!”

Castiel nodded. “I did.”

“And you did nothing?” you scoffed.

“I don’t meddle in human affairs, (Y/N),” he replied evenly. 

“Then what fucking purpose do you serve?” you pressed, your voice rising. 

“I serve Heaven, not humanity. I’m a soldier. You have clearly misunderstood the faith entirely,” Castiel told you firmly. 

You threw your arms out to the side in frustration. “So why now? Why are all of you here?” 

“Something is coming. I am not at liberty to reveal what—”

You cut him off. “All of you fucking angels and your secrecy—”

“—And you should mind the way you talk to me.” He continued to talk over you. “Just as easily as I took Dean out of Hell—”

You couldn’t help yourself. “—God, I am so tired of having to listen to what you freaks say just because you have the biggest metaphysical dicks—”

“—I will throw you back in his place!” Castiel finished. 

Your mouth snapped shut. You knew he would make due on that statement if necessary; you were completely disposable to beings that have existed for millions of years. By the time you raised your gaze from the ground, Castiel was gone. 

****

Your world view was crumbling. Anxiety constantly filled you, leaving you feeling burdened with knowledge you never wanted of the afterlife and the truth behind “god’s plan.” It was becoming more and more clear to you that the only purpose humans served was to stand between Heaven and Hell like Job in the Bible; a man tortured by the devil to prove his faithfulness to the lord. 

With your heart in your throat, you ditched the car you’d kidnapped Jimmy Novak in and began the long walk through the night to the next one you could hotwire. When you made it out of the woods, you walked through a neighborhood you were hesitant to steal from given the many security cameras surrounding almost every house. And so, you continued to the main road. You stopped in your tracks when you saw that familiar Impala across the street from where you were standing. Heart thumping, you made your way to the side of the diner and peeked through the blinds. To your surprise, Sam was there— with a woman, at that. Everyone else in the diner was lying on the floor with blood drying around their eyes. 

‘What are you doing, Samuel?’ you thought. ‘Wait, where’s Dean?!’ If the Impala was there, Sam must’ve snuck out. Either that, or he was with Bobby. Pinning down his exact location wasn’t a true concern of yours, you simply wanted to ensure that you were as far away from them as possible. 

Sam, though, was concerning you. Who was he with? Who were the people in the diner? Had the dark-haired woman across the table from him caused this? All of these questions, you knew you couldn’t get the answers to. It was dangerous for you to be there as it was. And so, you hotwired a car parked around the back of the building and sped off into the night. 

****

You drove well into the next morning with no particular destination in mind. Naturally, your thoughts turned to Dean. What did he think you were up to? Did he feel like you abandoned him? God, you hoped not. If only he knew that everything you had done these past four or five months had been for him. 

Still, an uncomfortable feeling clawed at your chest. You remembered what he’d told you when you tried to torture that demon before he went to Hell. He was angry. He told you never to do something like that for him again. And yet, here you were. 

At this point, motels would be considered a luxury to you. You frequently opted to sleep in whatever car you’d stolen to help you evade any security cameras in the motel lobbies. Each and every move you made had to be carefully calculated, especially now that a ninth man had gone missing by your hand. 

From this moment forward, you knew you would be on the run. Life— and hunting, by extension— was going to become infinitely more difficult. Maybe this would be when you left it all behind. Maybe you’d live out the rest of your days with only a cat and some horrendous rom-coms to keep you company. As much as it hurt you, the chances of you seeing Dean again were growing slimmer and slimmer. 

After catching a few hours rest in the parking lot of a laundromat, you went inside to wash the few clothes you had with you. You always kept your head down, hood on, and sunglasses across your face. Sure, it was a bit suspicious, but you had to keep your identity concealed as well as you possibly could. Who knew what the authorities had discovered about you thus far? You couldn’t risk them gathering any further details on you. 

With that in mind, you cast a glance up at the television in the corner that was playing the local news. As you predicted, Jimmy Novak’s picture was displayed. Thankfully, they hadn’t identified you as a suspect— yet. Perhaps you were being a bit paranoid; Pontiac was far from the other kidnappings. Then again, the angels had selected people that were states away from each other, and they’d connected them in some kind of way.

With your clothes back in hand, you headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. 

‘What have I become,’ you thought, jokingly mocking yourself. Then, Uriel appeared behind you. You were long past startling at his sudden visits and simply sighed. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Where are you going?” he asked. 

“Uh—” 

“I have not permitted you to leave Illinois.”

“Oh, sorry, Your Featheriness, I didn’t realize I had to file paperwork with you when I go on a road trip,” you scoffed, putting your hygiene products back in your duffel bag. 

Uriel was clearly not appreciating your tone. “Go back to Pontiac. Trail the Winchesters. Or join them; matters not to us.”

Your heart dropped. “What, why?!”

“No matter what, they stay alive. They are the priority; even if it costs your life,” he explained flatly. 

Eyes wild, you rambled, “Wait, dude, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m gonna drag them into my FBI disaster if I do that—!”

“There is no room for argument,” Uriel stated. “I’ll send Zachariah the next time you talk back. I have tired of your insolence.”

Your lip trembled, anxiety flooding your body at the thought of potentially putting the boys in harm’s way. “Uriel, please, tell me what’s going on—” 

“That is not for you to know, child,” he answered dryly. 

“I thought you were done with me,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please, I did what you asked!”

“And now, we need you to do something more.” His tone was disdainful. “I didn’t take you for the emotional kind. Then again, you humans are all the same.”

Your heart was shattering in your chest. If Dean caught you tailing them, he’d be so angry. He’d immediately question why you hadn’t shown up as soon as he came back from Hell, and he’d be so hurt. Would he feel betrayed? If you were honest with yourself, you would in that situation. Even just the thought of hurting him so bad was causing a pit to form in your stomach. “Uriel, please, don’t make me do this,” you begged. 

The angel’s expression hardened further; if that was even possible. “How many times do I have to tell you that argument is futile? You will do as I say, or Dean will suffer the consequences; seeing as our punishments don’t scare you.”

Whether he was bluffing or not, you didn’t care. You couldn’t stand the thought of Dean being hurt again because of you, and Uriel knew exactly how to get you to comply. It pissed you off that an angel of the lord would blackmail you and that you were so willing to potentially hurt yourself to protect Dean. Everything about your situation made you hurt, and you couldn’t even reach out to the one person you needed most for help. 

“So, I just—” you tried to collect your courage, swallowing a lump in your throat, “stay away until they need help? Then, what? Do I disappear again?”

Uriel nodded. “If that’s how you wish to do things. This is your purpose, (Y/N). This is god’s plan for you.”

You laughed coldly, tears falling once more. As much as you wanted to scream mockeries at the sky, you knew better than to do that in front of Uriel. “Fine.” 

That was all he needed to hear. After your acceptance, Uriel was gone.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[bwoahtastic]

I mean if ur taking suggestions for short fic inspo if you’re interested in it could I maybe suggest Carlos’s first evening spent with lando/oscar/charles/max all together in the tattoo au?

PLS MY BABIES I MISS THEM enjoooooyyy

Carlos felt like he was arriving for a very odd sleepover party. He had brought a little overnight bag with his pj's and toiletries, and his pillow just in case they didn't have a spare. He had even debated bringing his sleeping bag but he assumed they would have a blanket, or he would ask Needle the cat to cuddle with him.

That is, unless he could sleep in the bed with the others, which he had been secretly hoping for.

"Hi Carlos!" Max beamed, opening the door for the Spaniard. Carlos found himself struggling to hold his stuff as Max hugged him tight, face pressed into Carlos's shoulder.

"Hi Maxy." Carlos murmured with a fond smile, hugging back as well as he could and pressing a kiss to Max's temple. Max pulled him into the apartment without letting go, only parting from Carlos when Oscar came up.

"Don't squeeze him too hard." Oscar chuckled at Max, but gave him a soft kiss to settle him. Carlos wondered briefly if Oscar was just laying his claim on Max in front of him, but decided he didn't want to think about mind games.

"Nice to see you, Carlos." Oscar smiled, leaning in for quite an awkward hug, but Carlos knew he meant well.

"Carlos! We have snacks!" Lando called from the kitchen, where him and Charles were sitting at the table with a vast array of snacks and drinks. Carlos chuckled, greeting them both with a kiss on the cheek too and letting Charles feed him some chocolate.

"Where should I put my stuff?" Carlos asked, glancing around at the four others. 3 pairs of eyes turned to Osc, who smiled shyly, a blush on his cheeks.

"My bedroom, I'll show you." He beckoned Carlos along. "My room was bigger than Max's, so now we all stay there. Max's room is basically our closet now." He explained. There was an impressively big bed in the room, seeming to be two king sized beds pushed together, covered in a mountain of fluffy pillows and blankets. The bedding was mostly matching, apart from the 5th pillow, in the centre of the bed, that was a dark blue instead of fitting the pink and purple hues Charles had no doubt picked.

"Max and Lando really wanted you in the centre of the bed, but if you want you can of course be near the edge." Oscar shuffled his feet a bit. "Or the spare room, there is a bed still in there as well." He added, avoiding Carlos's eyes.

"Will you be okay if I sleep here?" Carlos asked Oscar carefully. "I know we didn't get along very well until now, so if you're not comfortable, I won't impose." He smiled, hoping he seemed as sincere as he felt. He truly didn't want to upset Oscar, he wanted to get on good terms with him so bad.

"I want you here." Oscar said decisively. "I want you close." He added more softly. Carlos smiled.

"You want to sleep right next to me then?" He tried to joke. Oscar worried his lip between his teeth.

"That's my pillow." He murmured shyly, pointing at the pillow to the left of the dark blue one they had left for Carlos. Carlos's smile softened.

"That's perfect."

~~~~~

"Charles, your feet are freezing cold." Oscar groaned, trying to get comfy as Charles plastered himself against Oscar's side, cold feet tucked under Oscar's leg. Osc groaned and tried to scoot over a bit, closer to Carlos.

"Yes, so you need to warm them!" Charles huffed. Carlos tried not laugh too much, meanwhile making space for Max to cuddle up to him, the Dutchman seeming a little giddy with excitement about getting all the affection he could ever want. Lando was behind Max, yawning wide as he clung to Max's back like a koala.

"Less noise more sleeping." Lando mumbled, reaching over Max to hold Carlos's hand. Max arched back a bit to look at Lando.

"But what about the good night kisses then?" Max asked. Lando, whose eyes had fluttered closed, opened them again, smiling too as he leaned in to kiss Max. To his other side, Carlos could hear Oscar and Charles share a rather noisy kiss too.

"Oof!" Carlos groaned as Max leaned his elbow on Carlos's stomach to reach over to kiss Charles and Oscar goodnight too, Lando following his example. Carlos smiled softly, trying to keep out of the way as much as possible. But as he was pulling back, Lando grinned a cheeky grin at Carlos.

"One for you too, of course." Lando smirked, brushing a sweet kiss to Carlos's lips. Max was ofcourse not going to be left behind, leaning in the moment Lando pulled back to kiss Carlos too.

"Night Carlos." Max murmured, their noses nuzzling together a bit before Max laid back down.

"Don't forget me! Charles huffed, crawling over Oscar to press a loud smooch to Carlos's lips. Carlos chuckled breathlessly, butterflies in his stomach soaring. He peeked at Oscar, but didn't dare to lean in no matter how badly he wanted to. He didn't want to push things and make it worse as a result.

"Goodnight, Carlos." Oscar whispered, leaning in slowly. Carlos turned to look at him, tilting his chin up but not closing the gap. Oscar let out a shaky breath, his lips brushing over Carlos's in a tender, sweet kiss. Carlos kissed back eagerly, brushing his hand over Oscar's cheek.

"Goodnight." He whispered with a smile.

He could get used to this.