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

[roman-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

[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!

[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…

[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.”

[holylulusworld]

Big grumpy bear (2)

Summary: He’s grumpy. You are sweet. A match made in heaven.

Pairing: Alpha!Walter Marshall x OmegaReader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, grumpy alpha, scenting, fluff, jealous alpha, possessive (a hint) alpha

Catch up here: Big grumpy bear

Big grumpy bear masterlist

“Good morning,” you chirp as you walk toward your office. You’re in a good mood because it will be a wonderful day. You’re sure about it.

You are wearing a brand-new square-neck floral dress with short sleeves. The bohemian dress has a high waist and elegant ruffle hems. It’s cute and you feel pretty. Most importantly, you are ready to impress your chosen alpha.

While you fall into your daily morning routine and greet all of your colleagues you feel Walter’s eyes on you. 

His features darken as one of your male colleagues dares to put his hand on your arm to stop you. 

The man only tries to talk to you about the footage you checked for his case, but Walter won’t have it.

Walter gets up from his swivel chair, almost knocking the chair over as he rises to his full height. He strides toward you and the man, eyes hard and jaw set. 

You feel him behind you, his gaze on the man, but his hand on your shoulder. “Excuse us. Miss Y/L/N has an appointment with me. We need to discuss the footage of my latest case.”

“Well, buddy,” the man tries to swipe Walter’s hand off your shoulder. He doesn’t know that you and the alpha are kinda of dating. Or you are not. You’re not sure about it. At least Walter allowed you to take care of him a little bit over the last three weeks. “I talked to her first. Your case must wait.”

Uh-oh. The guy is in trouble. Walter cracks his neck. He huffs and squeezes your shoulder.

“I need to help Detective Marshall now. I gave you my report yesterday. Your partner said the case is closed. If you need to discuss the details with me again, we need to do it later,” you try to calm Walter, but the other detective seems to be the kind of alpha wanting to mark another alpha’s territory.

Or he’s just dull…

“As I said, I talked to you first. You must focus on my case,” the detective makes you sigh. In his line of work, he should be able to control his anger and nature better.

You know men like him. They all believe omegas and betas must follow their orders like obedient puppies. The twenty-first century is forgotten the moment they want you to do something for them.

“Your partner said the case is closed,” Walter snarls at the detective. “I know him. If he closes a case, it is closed. So, what is this about? Huh? Do you want to make another woman unhappy? This worked out well for that lab tech you dated last year.”

“Careful, Marshall,” the man bites back. “Don’t get in between me and that omega.”

You sigh again. This could’ve been such a lovely day. “That is enough,” you snap your fingers in front of the detective’s face. “If the case is closed, there is no need to waste my time. Let me tell you this right away. I wouldn’t poke you with a stick. And I already set my eyes on an alpha.”

Walter proudly puffs his chest. “You heard her. Get out of her sight!” He gruffly says. “Miss Y/L/N, can we talk about the footage now?”

Exhaling sharply, you turn around. You need a moment to calm down and find your inner peace. “Let’s go, detective.”

“You need to eat this and have more water.” The moment you had Walter at your office you switched to caring omega modus again. 

He grumbles as you place a homemade sandwich and a cupcake in front of him. “I told you not to feed me,” Walter says but grabs the sandwich, nonetheless. He digs in, humming as he munches the food you made for him. “I can take care of myself.”

“I can defend myself too,” you pat his cheek, making him furrow his brows. “But it was nice of you to stand up for me. Just like an alpha should.”

“You…” he looks you up and down. His features are unmoving, but his eyes roam your body. Walter tilts his head, hums, and licks his lips clean, tasting your sandwich again. “You look pretty in that dress.”

Your heart flutters. It’s the first time Walter complimented you. “My, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”

Walter watches you chew on your index finger. You’re unsure if he’s ready for the next step, but sometimes you must take what you want.

It’s now or never.

You hop onto his thigh and wrap your arms around his neck to peck his cheek. ”You’re a very protective alpha. I like it.”

Walter’s features soften for a split-second. He gives you half a smile and allows you to bury your face in his neck to scent him.

His heart beats a little faster than usual. He’s not sure yet, but he fears you wormed your way into his heart.

He’s just not sure anymore if that’s a bad thing …

Part 3

[cosmic-spider]

Jax x mexican fem reader

He finds you accent funny( if you have one.) especially when you pronounce stores and other thing.

 He finds it funny when you don’t remember the name of something and you just say  agárra me el dese.(get me the thing) it makes him giggle a bit every time.

On the other hand, he does hate it whenever you take off your shoe and start hitting him with it. (He still doesn’t understand how a slipper or a shoe can become a lethal weapon in less than two seconds.)

He still doesn’t understand how you’re able to hit him perfectly on the head when he’s trying to run away from you before you hit him.( later on starts to ask you how to do it so you can hit other people from far away for a prank)

He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

He keeps your room key very close to him at all times in case he hears you start singing in your room by yourself so he can just come in and or peep through the door and listen to you sing.

I also find it fascinating on how many different ways you can dance just one song. Still doesn’t understand how you can move your feet so fast or so fluently especially your hips.

Almost ever fight the two of you have is just you getting pissed off of his jokes, and you cussing him out in Spanish, which were some reason Caine has not censored. Then him yelling at you saying “I don’t speak Taco Bell! “And then you just get pissed off and just start hitting him with your slippers/shoe.

He does love your cooking on the other hand not that he would actually tell you directly. Every now and then he’ll give a comment, saying it was good, or nice. Will eat through the pain of the spicy food. ( Will be drinking so much milk and water that he can find the moment he get out of you eyesight.)

Still doesn’t understand the nickname you call him by conejo morado.( purple bunny)

As a s/o

Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him. It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

Find that funny whenever something goes wrong on the dates that you make for the two of you.

Some of the stories about how you grow up and how your siblings active during parties in for piñata’s terrifying him.

Especially since he’s not a kid person. He could just imagine the horror trying to take care of kids that Literally run around and hit each other over candy that comes out of a piñata.( Wonders how you even survive that growing up)

Find the face smashing into birthday cake, tradition hilarious. Wants to try it on you until you told him the story where you literally gave your cousin a blackeye because of it.( things twice about ruining your birthdays now.)

Purposely does things to piss you off just so you can cause I’m out in Spanish he just stays there and looks at you with a smirk, face and flirts with you more to get your even more pissed off try to run away afterward, but gets hit in the head with a slipper.

Absolutely adores it  whenever you make  pan dulce (Mexican sweet breed.) Hid favorite is conchas, galletas, cono, y poquito with some coffee in the morning.

Finds the stories, you tell him about cookouts, funny and entertaining, especially on long and boring days that he has or when you tell him that someone got into a fight.

Both of you start drama and problems for the others. Then watch it on falls on the sidelines. 

Is always impressed on how fast you can run whenever someone gets abstracted. ( like he’s a rabbit and he can run pretty fast, but damn, can you out run him any day)

Hates it whenever you start the cleaning ritual every Sunday or what you believe. It’s a Sunday.(especially when you start singing and blasting music out of nowhere, or when you go into his room, even though he had all the keys and other ways to get into his room.) Its his nightmare

[reysdriver]

Meeting The Dad | E.M.

Your police chief dad insists on meeting your misfit boyfriend, so you bring Eddie over for dinner — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: just a stressful dinner and a mention of eddie dealing drugs

words: 1.2k

Eddie always insisted on getting out of the van first so he could open the door for you. After telling him it’s not necessary about a million times, you just gave up and let him do it. 

You exhaled while it was just you in the car, waiting for him to walk around to your side. This dinner was nerve-wracking, but you didn’t want to show how nervous you were to Eddie and potentially scare him away. 

When the passenger side door opened, you smiled at Eddie as he took the takeout bag from you and helped you down the step. 

“So,” Eddie wondered as you started walking along the forest floor. “Remind me again why we have to do this? Your dad and I have already met.”

“Because the situations in which you two met weren’t… the most desirable. We want to show him that you’re a respectable person and a great boyfriend to his daughter.” 

Eddie took an exaggerated step over a fallen branch on the ground. “It’s not like he’s going to change his mind about me.”

“But we can try getting him to see you differently.” You told him. “So that means you have to be on your best behaviour, remember?”

He rolled his eyes jokingly. "Shake his hand, call him 'Mr. Hopper’, and keep my elbows off the table. I remember all your training"

“Eds, I’m serious. I really want him to like you.” 

He understood that you were nervous and dropped the teasing. “I know. I want it as much as you do, really. I promise I’ll try as hard as possible to become best friends with your dad.”

You laughed at that. “Well, you don’t have to get that close to him.”

“Oh, we’re gonna be super close. Soon, I’ll spend more time hanging with him than I do with you. He’ll let me sit in the front seat of his cop car as we cruise around town and share embarrassing stories about you.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You both continued walking towards your cabin, and you pointed at the ground a few feet ahead of you. “There’s the tripwire, we have to go over that.”

“I know about the tripwire, sweetheart. How do you think I sneak in to see you?”

You lowered your voice to explain. “I know. I’m pointing at it in case my dad is watching from the window or something. We don’t need him knowing about you sneaking in through my window.”

“She’s too smart for me!” Eddie spoke dramatically into the forest. “Another reason I can’t slack in making a good impression with her father.”

You giggled at him as you both stepped up onto your porch. You took one deep inhale before opening your front door to reveal your dad and sister on the couch waiting for you. Your dad stood up and started walking to you with an unreadable expression, Eleven following closely behind. 

“We’re here, and with food!” You said after Eddie shut the door behind the two of you. “Dad, El, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is my dad, and that’s my sister.”

Your boyfriend held out his hand to share a handshake with your dad. “Thank you so much for inviting me over, Mr. Hopper. It’s good to meet you in a different setting than we have before.”

He took his hand and spoke slightly more grumpily than you had hoped. “Yeah. It’s a pleasure.”

They broke the handshake and your dad moved out of the way, leaving Eddie and Eleven face to face. 

“I know you.” She said to Eddie. 

He and you both went slightly wide-eyed, remembering what happened a few weeks ago when Eddie snuck in at night. He came to show you his most recent tattoo—among other things—and your little sister had walked into your room to find you making out with a shirtless Eddie when she got up to get a midnight snack and heard voices behind your door. You had explained that you and Eddie were just playing a game but she couldn’t tell Hopper about what she saw. 

She agreed not to say anything, but now she was forgetting her promise and you had to cover it up quickly. 

“Yeah, you’ve probably seen him around town. Anyways, we brought waffles for you and we don’t want them to get cold, so let’s sit down to eat and you can figure out where you’ve seen Eddie later, okay?”

Eddie put the takeout bag on the table and sat down in the seat next to yours that you had gestured to a second ago. There were plates on the table for you already, so you started taking out the takeout boxes from the bag and handing them out. 

“El, here’s your waffles. Eds, here’s our burgers. And, Dad, we got you a steak. Benny threw in extra fries but I got him to add vegetables for you too.”

He was obviously displeased. “Oh, yay. My daughter’s drug dealer boyfriend and I get a bunch of steamed vegetables? Best dinner ever.”

You chose to ignore his attitude, and you placed a calming hand on Eddie’s thigh. “You know, Dad, Eddie actually has a real job. He just started at the music store in the new mall. Right, Eds?”

Eddie dropped the fry in his hands before answering. “Yeah, I mean, I’m mostly just a stock boy, but at least it’s honest work.”

“And you’re saving?” Your dad asked. “Planning to move away, buy a house? At least pay off those student loans?”

There it was, the part you didn’t want to explain to your family. You avoided eye contact as you spoke. “Actually, Dad. Eddie doesn’t have student loans. He’s not going to college yet.” 

“So, you’re both about to take a gap year?”

“Not exactly.” Eddie told him. “I’m staying at Hawkins High for another year. I just have a few credits left, but it’ll happen. Third time’s the charm, right?”

“This is gonna be your third senior year?” Your dad asked, looking surprised. 

Even Eleven joined in. “That’s six years of high school!”

“Yeah, it is. Unfortunately, I didn’t put a lot of my focus into school, so I wasn’t always the best student. But I’m almost there.” 

You were so scared about how your family would react to this information. Obviously, you didn’t care that Eddie was a year older but still in high school; you were just so proud of him for sticking to it and trying. You winced as your dad started to laugh. 

“I guess I don’t need to worry about you running off with my daughter anytime soon ‘cause where the hell are you gonna go?” 

You were about to tell him off for being mean about your boyfriend’s education journey, but Eddie sensed this and held your hand under the table. In fact, he seemed to find it funny too. 

“No, sir. Not going anywhere yet.” Eddie responded. “In fact, I’ll even stay for a fourth year if it’ll put your mind at ease about me.” 

You realised you were still holding your breath from when your dad asked the question, and you finally exhaled calmly. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be as intimidating as you thought.

[shirefantasies]

Marti it is Moss *does small dance* sending in a Hobbit imagine should it strike your fancy to answer. If not feel free to delete you come first and foremost! Your blog is always a delight and i read everything you post like its the morning newspaper.

Im wondering if you would write a hobbit headcanon for a reader who uses a mobility aid like forearm crutches!

I myself use forearm crutches (named Catcher and Holder a la Dwalin) for dizziness and weakness due to neurological issues, but there are many reasons for their use from joint pain to hypermobility. Sometimes people use them all the time and other times they are only used when they have flare ups (some have to have them available all the time in case of The Return tm)

Sometimes you use one and sometimes you use two. All depends on condition severity, needs,what youre doing, and preference

Even when you have a flare up you may not prefer to use them for short distances ie in your house some people choose not to. I use mine on the steps unless im doing something hazardous and dont want to risk a fall (and be able to walk in general)which ive become prone to over the last two years.

You still live your life and do what you do sometimes its a bit different other times its not. Sometimes you have a stick or two.

You can make a lot of fun decorations and functional tools like cupholders and pouches for your crutches and stickers make them unique and customizable. Honestly the biggest challenge for me is mugs and stairs+ other two handed tasks 😩 let me see someone smack a warg protecting their bestie and then lament not planning their cuppa retrieval rofl.

Im wondering how our lads would have a time with this- not acceptance wise as i know Dwarves are very accepting. More along lines of shenanigans wholesome fun bonding the good daily stuff that you write so beautifully and capture each one of them so well!

Thank you so much and if you have any questions please feel free to reach out

🌿🏹moss🏹🌿

Hello Moss 🥰💚 OMG Catcher and Holder that's perfectttt! Sorry this post is so fuckin long in the making but hopefully you enjoy it and this captures it well! I confess I don't personally use a mobility aid at this time so I may not have the greatest frame of reference 😅 but yeah I hope you like these little moments! *does small exit dance in return*

Warnings: canon typical violence in some

Thorin's Company + Reader With Mobility Aids

Balin

“Might I ask who built that?” Polite as ever, Balin motioned to the chair upon which you had affixed a pair of wheels. “I did,” you answered, “I was the only person in my little village who needed something like this.” “Well, you are quite the craftsman. Would that you had no ties to your hometown and the Lonely Mountain could snap you up! You could see those skills built up tenfold.” “R-really? I came here to Laketown for something just like that! But I’ll confess I think you will be a far better teacher.” Winking, you gave Balin a smile he mirrored. “You’re resilient. Smart as a whip, too! It would be my honor.” “And after all,” you added, “If anyone would know how to mount a crossbow on the arms, it would be dwarves!” At that, even as polite a dwarf as Balin could hardly help bursting into a wicked grin.

Dwalin

“Nice axes.” “Forged them myself,” Dwalin answered with a nod, “Grasper and Keeper. One grasps your soul, the other keeps it.” “How funny,” you remarked, raising your forearm crutches, “I call these Catcher and Holder. Same idea only with the body. Suppose that isn’t nearly as impressive, though.�� “Impressive?” Dwalin burst out. “We’ve all got our battle scars. Our wounds. Never be ashamed of that. The fact that you’re still up ‘n’ going? Be proud. I can show you plenty o’ scars myself!” At that last bit, Dwalin began lifting up his tunic to reveal toned skin paled in some places and darkened in others by all manner of scars and at that, you couldn’t help shyly laughing. Proud indeed.

Thorin

Yes, the king had not denied you entry into his company when Gandalf had recommended you, but he had raised and furrowed his regal brow in the skeptical look all but branded into your mind. He’d asked Gandalf if he was certain, and from then on the fire in your heart blazed. Certainly Thorin treated you as an equal, giving you the tasks he gave all others, but he had been yet to see you in battle and you knew that was where your proof would solidify. In fact, the first time wargs closed in upon you, you were one of the first to run back at them. Hearing the way Thorin called your name, but thoroughly ignoring it in favor of landing a solid crack upon the nearest adversary's skull. Luckily your body was having a better day anyway despite all the walking, because you spun and smashed your way through the orc pack, especially once you saw the way one bowled Bofur and Dori over. Fire took over your heart and eyes as you swung your mace until you could swing no more, all but deaf to the cracking of heads and the clattering of your allies’ blades through that pounding adrenaline. At the end of it all, Thorin approached you, his expression surprisingly mild. Then it broke into a smile. “The wizard was right about you,” he told you, clapping a hand to your shoulder, “Invaluable in all respects indeed.”

Oin

“Oh, that’s clever, that is!” “My eyes are up here,” you quipped, crossing your arms and smiling sardonically down at the dwarf bent over peering at your wheels. At that, Oin tilted his head up to look back at you, giving a raucous heh heh heh of laughter. “Never seen anything like this lot before,” he commented, shaking his head and running a hand over the frame of your chair, “You’d think dwarves’d be the first to make ‘em! ��S beautiful.” Your lips parted wordlessly for a few moments before you spoke, head still slightly tilted. “Beautiful?” “Course!” Oin replied, smiling widely as he rose to his feet again. “A real beauty for sure. A marvel, actually. It is quite the privilege to get to see it in action!” “No one has ever told me that before,” you replied quietly, a smile spreading across your lips.

Gloin

Orcs rushed you from every side, sending you scrambling as fast as your crutches could support you. Carrying a sword aside it all was about as unwieldy as one imagined, but you knew no different. In fact, your best strike that fight had nearly taken a whole arm off. Catching sight of you, though, the nearest of your blood-spattered adversaries grinned and gave a savage kick, sending your crutches flying from beneath you. Teetering, you pitched forward, trying to catch yourself with one arm and steady your sword with the other as the shout rang out. “You think you’re so clever, you great filthy buzzard? I don’t think so!” With a savage growl of his own, Gloin flew into the fray, and with a violent swing of his axe the orc’s head was sent unceremoniously tumbling to the dirt. “Serves ‘m right, eh?” Gloin asked with a smug look as he extended a hand, helping you up, handing you your crutches, and even gently dusting you off.

Bifur

You had seen the way he glanced your way. How his eyes traced the lines of the crutches extending from your forearms, the extensions of steel that made walking less painless. And running more painless if you were a charging warg on the receiving end of a bash to the face. Bifur had seen the way you slid your arms free to motion and sign to him, indicating the interesting things seen along the road. If you had a tendency to go nonverbal, he would aid you in removing your crutches when you needed to sign. Such things had been floating in your mind when you sat by his side, asked him if he understood in a way. You certainly felt understood in his presence, after all. Bifur glanced away with haste, but still you caught notice of tears in his dark eyes, just for a moment. A moment before the smile spread across his face and he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against yours- carefully, of course, so you barely felt the brush of the axe against your joined skin.

Bofur

“Bofur!” Uncaring how earsplitting your scream may have been, you charged forward, heaving one leg before the other as fast as you could while still keeping a hand on your walker. Which was faster than even you realized, sped by adrenaline and rage and urgency all pounding through your ears. Loading your crossbow again and again, you fired three successive shots into the assailant’s side, shoulder, and finally with the last you struck his ugly head and knocked him down onto his ass. For good. Sighing heavily, you leaned for just a moment on your walker frame before making your way to Bofur’s side, this time at a less painful pace, and turned it around to take a seat. Leaning down, you reached for his hand. “Bofur, are you alright?” “I am thanks to you,” he chuckled, his hazel eyes fixed upon you fondly, “Maybe I need to get myself one of those. Seems to aid the aim, having something to lean on.” Grinning and blinking back tears, you procured a cloth and a strip of bandage and started to dab away the blood on his shoulder.

Bombur

“Hope this isn’t rude…” You were surprised by the sound of Bombur's soft voice coming from your side, turning from the journal you wrote in and setting your implements aside. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, well aware of all the 'not rude' inquiries you'd received over the years as to why you carried crutches, especially if some days you did not. However, knowing this one came from sweet Bombur softened you. He actually meant it. "...But what's the hardest part of having those?" You couldn't resist a snicker at the thought that immediately rose to your mind. "You'd really like to know?" "Yes," he nodded, "If I may." With another little snort, you smiled and told him, "Mugs." "Mugs?" "Mugs and stairs. Can't tell you the number of times I've spilled on my way up. Anything that takes two hands, really." "I see!" The conversation ended with Bombur's eyes lighting up. At least you thought it had ended... Several days later, he came shuffling up to you with that same sweetly eager glint and his hands behind his back. "I've made you something," he told you, pulling out an open cylinder of steel and unfolding another little piece from it, "Hope it works. It's a little mug holder. Go on, let's see if it fits." Snapping the little unfolding piece to your crutch, Bombur watched your face break into a grin as it remained in place. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, Bombur. Thank you." "You deserve it," he replied, smiling fondly at you.

Dori

“I wouldn’t exactly mind having one of those.” “A cane?” You arched a brow. “I’ve always thought it made you look distinguished,” he admitted with a smile. “Now that is a new one,” you commented wryly, “All for use of my leg.” “Nothing wrong with it,” Dori shrugged, “We all do what we must. Seems a shame you’ve such a plain one, though.” At that, your proverbial ears perked up. “As opposed to what?” “Well,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. Haven’t you seen all the nice silver tips and things they put on canes?” “Ah,” you nodded, “I see what you mean! It is a bit of a shame I haven’t anything to decorate mine with, isn’t it?” “Haven’t anything? What do you call this?” With that emphasized last word, Dori reached behind into his pack and procured a little silver charm, one carved richly with dwarven runes and even centered with a little green stone. Fiddling at his back more, the dwarf also found a section of string and hastily tied it to your cane’s handle. “Now what do you call that?” He asked, waving a hand over the charm. “I have a bit of luster dust if you’d like something more.” Needless to say, it was the most fun night you’d had in those endless weeks of trekking.

Nori

Raising one eyebrow at Nori, you stared in skepticism as he held a hand out and repeated his request. “Your cane, please?” “How do I know you won’t just run off with it?” You shot back. “You’re sitting,” he pointed out, “Not like you really need it. Besides, do you really think I’d be so incorrigible a scoundrel as to make off with someone’s means of walkin’ for no reason?” Nori’s gaze slid upward from your carven wood cane back to your eyes, which remained as they were. “Second thought, don’t answer that. Just trust me, hm? You won’t regret it. Dwarf’s honor.” At the invoking of honor, an action infrequently taken by Nori, your brow lowered to form a more neutral, though inquisitive, expression as you handed your cane over. You were quickly distracted by conversation from Dori as you sat, folding your hands in both complacency and content and shivering a bit in the snow. The conversation continued for some time until an ‘A-ha!’ rang out and Nori came running back up, triumphantly hoisting your cane, to which he had crudely affixed one of his many knives. “And what,” you asked, “Is this?” Nodding beyond your night’s campground, Nori indicated the ice extending across the ground. “Aid in your trek! Can’t have you slipping, can you? Not that I won’t catch ya.” He winked.

Ori

“Your sticks!” Ori gasped, brown eyes wide with horror. “Where are they?” “My crutches?” Eyebrows sliding upward in amusement, you made your way toward the young dwarf, who was stitching a sock a handful of feet away. At that, he simply nodded, repairs completely abandoned upon his lap. "Oh, I simply had no need for them today," you answered with a small shrug of your shoulders. At that, Ori gave a curious little frown. “So you can walk some days?” “It isn’t only a matter of walking,” you chuckled, “Moreso that some days my pain and balance are worse.” “Like when Gloin’s leg bothers him?” Ori asked, face turning to childlike eagerness. “Or how Bifur doesn't talk some days?" A little smile spread across your face and your chest expanded with warmth. "Yes," you agreed, "Just like that, Ori."

Fili

Mind drifting off in tandem with the pulsing ache of your limbs, you gazed at the flicker of the fire, faintly drifting smoke curling into the air from pipes and the kindling itself. Your hands idly wrung your cane until the sensation of warmth brushing your leg drew you from your empty focus spiral. Shifting your gaze, you were met with the sight of Fili sitting at your side. "Think I might need one of those after today." Following his gaze, your eyes fell back down to your hands, more specifically the cane held there. "Your own mobility aid or the other?" At your last words, Fili quirked up a golden brow. "The other?" He repeated. Smirking proudly, you slid the end off your cane, revealing a sword hidden within. “The other,” you repeated once more with emphasis, “Guess you weren’t paying attention to how I heaved so many goblins off that bridge.” “You’re right,” Fili agreed, blue eyes lighting up in the fireglow, “I do want that. How long has that been there?” “Whole time.” “Just waiting for the right moment, eh?” “Of course,” you bantered back, “Gotta make a show.”

Kili

“Can I try?” Kili smiled up at you as you blinked at him, face blank with thought. Reaching down, he pantomimed using your crutches for a step, swinging his arms back and forth. "You want to give my crutches a go?" Your eyebrows shot up, a smile building upon your face. Memories flooded your mind, deep knowledge of the struggle that nearly always comes with those first steps and even far beyond. Loosening the grip you had upon your aids, you handed them off to Kili as you took Oin's hand and allowed him to help walk and lower you onto a makeshift camp seat. Hooking his arms in, Kili stood up, adjusting his posture after several moments. He took a step, then swung them. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. Hold on." You giggled from your seat at Oin's side as Kili raised one leg, thought, brought the crutches down again and wobbled such that you were tempted to extend hands that could catch him.

Bilbo

“I was scared first, but trust me: you’ll be grateful in the end once you get on these fellows,” Bilbo told you, looking down at you as he patted the pony he sat upon. “It isn’t that,” you answered, gaze dropping from the hobbit’s, “It’s…well, it is a bit embarrassing, to be honest.” The dwarves had been sweet enough to fortify the feet of your forearm crutches, though they still could not understand why you didn’t ride. The answer, quite frankly, rose a bit of a flush to your cheeks. Bilbo must have caught this. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. Nothing of it is your fault. You can tell me. Probably better me than all those dwarves, right? I won’t tell a soul.” His voice dropped to a playful whisper for that last sentence, which though it didn’t help the heat radiating beneath your skin did open your heart and your mouth. “If I were to get lightheaded or a shock of pain riding a pony I could fall off. And...And I would need someone to hold onto me.” “Ah,” the hobbit replied, this time taking his turn to shyly gaze away, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I would be more than happy to hold you.”

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[evillemons]

heyy! i hope you’re doing well :) i was wondering what do you think bts would be like courting someone? e.g making CDs, or writing love letters or giving just cute simple dates. more romantic gestures or more simpler / practical ones?

and how long do you think they would court someone until they give up💀(if they do lmao). also i love ur writing :)) 🧡💜

Hello! I am doing excellent, thank you. And I'm glad to hear you enjoy my writing! I often get demotivated, but knowing that there are people out there who actually read my content makes me want to keep going :) Here is my take on this prompt:

How BTS would court someone

V - It would take Tae quite a while to develop feelings for someone that are beyond surface level (and I don't think he would approach someone unless he feels a strong emotional pull towards them). However, the hopeless romantic that he is, he would be relentless when it comes to winning over his crush's affection. He would definitely be the type to deliver flowers to her work or home on the regular (by hand), or show up at her house spontaneously to ask for an impromptu date. He might also try to impress her with his creative side by taking her to a pottery/painting class or playing his beloved saxophone for her. While I think he would be relatively persistent and not be quick to give up, he might lose interest or motivation if she does not reciprocate after a while.

Jungkook - It wouldn't take much to fall for Jungkook for most people (because look at him) but I have a feeling he will end up falling for a girl one day that is completely uninterested in him and his fame. In this case, he would become completely tunnel-visioned towards winning her over. All the romantic gestures - offering to take her on fancy dinner dates, inviting her to watch rehearsals/shows backstage, driving around the city in his Mercedes, buying her a pair of luxury shoes - anything flashy to impress her. I think he would be so blinded by the fact that that he likes someone so much and be inclined to skip the "get to know you phase" completely. I don't think he would be unreceptive to feedback, though; if he senses that she's uncomfortable, he'd probably back off a little and take things slower.

RM - Namjoon wouldn't be very likely to court someone "officially", as he would prefer to observe and learn first. He would start by getting to know her very slowly and gradually, maybe slipping out a witty compliment or two to peak her interest. When he's ready to pursue a relationship, he might gift her something small but thoughtful like a plushie that she admired in a store alongside a handwritten note, or a delicately selected music playlist based on her tastes (I truly see gift giving being his love language). If she's an intellectual, he would want to impress her by reading up on a topic she's interested in or by having a deep conversation. He definitely would not go overboard in fear of scaring her away or making her uncomfortable. He also would disengage immediately if she gave him the slightest hint that she wasn't interested, not because he gave up, but because he's a gentleman who respects people's boundaries.

SUGA - Not much of a courter at all. It's much more likely that someone would approach him first, or that a long-term friendship would evolve into a relationship gradually. His version of courting someone, however, would be getting to know all the little things about them, discovering their interests (especially their music taste), and figuring out what makes them happy. This would be all be done quietly, and then shown in subtle ways like making a playlist he thought she would like or joining her in an activity she enjoys (that he may not necessarily care for otherwise). It would be an organic process with someone he has a natural connection with, so there wouldn't really be an opportunity for "giving up"; it would just naturally fizzle out if it didn't work.

Jin - As I've mentioned many times, Jin is a major introvert and doesn't like to expend too much of his energy on other people. However, I don't think he would be lazy when it comes to someone he likes. Like many of the other boys, flowers would be a go to, but likely shipped to her rather than hand delivered because he would get too shy to do it himself. Courting would be a rather slow process, with interactions being more "formal" in the early days, and there would be absolutely no physical touch until the relationship is official. Outings would be traditional and romantic - dinner dates, walks along the river, a drive-in movie theater. If he's really brave he might hold her hand. I actually do think Jin would be very determined when courting someone because he does like to hold that traditional "masculine" role.

j-hope - Hobi would hardly need to go out of his way to peak someone's interest, as his naturally vibrant and positive energy would make anyone fall for him. He's also quite attentive and considerate towards the people he cares about, so I think this would be magnified x10 when he's interested in someone romantically. He might bring her flowers if he's feeling extra romantic, but his displays of affection would mostly be via acts of service like bringing her lunch at work or offering to run errands with her. Although Hoseok is the bougie king himself, he would offer more casual dates like a picnic at the park or a local fair or couples class. I actually do see him being relatively determined in courting her - he would be consistent in trying to talk to her on the daily/asking her on weekly dates. And it's not because he's trying too hard, that's just how he is.

Jimin - Jimin would be the sweetest man alive when he's smitten. He is visibly loving and affectionate, so it wouldn't be difficult to tell when he's interested in someone. He would use a combination of light physical touch, teasing, compliments, lighthearted dates, and maybe small gifts, to woo her. I see Jimin being the type to want to go above and beyond and put maximum effort into showing someone that he likes them, but I also think he would be aware that it might come across as overbearing. He would start with something small, like giving her a bouquet of flowers with a note asking her on a date, and then following her lead based on what she likes from there (by possibly straight up asking what she would like him to do). Jimin is persistent in the sense that he would not give up easily even if one of his plans doesn't go well, but only up to a point where she is comfortable and receptive.

[saphronethaleph]

Obscure Legends Reference Bingo

“So how come you got the medal, anyway?” Biggs asked, grinning, and punched Luke in the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Luke replied. “I said you and Wedge should get them too. That was great cover you guys gave, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He sighed. “I had this… feeling, while you were behind me. Like nothing was going to go wrong. And even when you left, I was sure that I’d do it. I couldn’t describe how, but it felt…”

“It felt like you could feel what was going to happen, right?” Biggs asked. “I could feel that too, I thought I was imagining it.”

Luke nodded, then frowned, then glanced up at Biggs.

“What could you feel?” he asked.

“It was… there was darkness, behind you,” Biggs replied. “Chasing you. Trying to destroy you. And I could feel when shots were going to go past me and not hit you, and I could feel when they were going to go past me and hit you. And… I tried to stay back as far as possible, so they couldn’t get past you, and when a shot was going to hit you, I let it hit me instead.”

He glanced towards the hangar. “Which is why my X-wing’s missing most of a wing. Sorry I couldn’t stay with you the whole way.”

“You did what you could, and that was more than enough,” Luke said. “Tatooine boys forever, right?”

“You bet, Luke!” Biggs agreed. “Man, I’m going to have to tell you how I got here… who would have thought it, right?”

He paused, and Luke knew why.

A voice had just touched their awareness.

Someone is here at last.

“Who said that?” Biggs asked. “Luke?”

“Not me, and that didn’t sound like Obi-Wan,” Luke replied.

He closed his eyes, focusing, trying to draw on the memory of what that contact had felt like.

Can you hear me?

“I heard that,” Biggs said, amazed. “That was you, Luke?”

“That was me,” Luke agreed.

Yes, a voice replied. If you can hear me… I need help. I’ve waited so long for someone sensitive to the Force to come to this moon. You need to contact the Jedi Order and have them send a Padawan.

Luke and Biggs exchanged confused looks.

What’s a Padawan? Luke replied, homing in on the thing he absolutely did not understand.

...hmm, the voice said, thoughtfully. If you don’t know that… how old are you?

“Weird question,” Biggs muttered.

Nineteen, Luke sent back, finding it easier every time. Or, I am. Biggs is older. But… the Jedi Order doesn’t exist any more. I only learned how to do this a few days ago and Biggs I think found out yesterday?

“The day before,” Biggs answered the question. “I first realized it when I was out finding an antidote for an illness Hobbie Klivan had – it’s his X-Wing you were flying, Luke.”

Nineteen, nineteen… the voice said. And you’re humans… well, I have to hope it will do. Come to this temple, please – as soon as possible.

Luke and Biggs exchanged glances as a location impressed itself into their mind.

“I can’t fly until my fighter’s repaired,” Biggs pointed out.

“I’m not technically part of the Rebellion yet, I think,” Luke replied. “Hold on, I’ll ask Han for a lift…”

“So where have you been?” Leia asked, some hours later, as the Millennium Falcon’s ramp lowered. “You know everyone else is busy, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke said. “But this was important.”

Leia’s gaze flicked across to the small, furry animal on his shoulder.

“A pet is important?” she asked.

“No,” the pet replied. “But freeing the souls of an entire race’s children – that is important, and it is what they have done.”

Biggs sniggered.

“Yeah, this was a surprise to us, too,” he said, throwing an arm around Luke. “Turns out nineteen does technically count as a child for the purposes of Sith Magic.”

“...so, you talk?” Leia asked.

“I certainly do,” the animal agreed. “Jedi Master Ikrit, at your service – I am a Kushiban, in case you are wondering. I would be delighted to help teach these two how to use their powers, and-”

“Ikrit?” General Dodonna repeated. “Jedi Master Ikrit?”

He looked completely poleaxed. “You were on snack toys before the Clone Wars! I distinctly remember saving one of them for a nephew!”

“Oh, dear…” the Kushiban said, ears flicking a little. “That is… not precisely the impression I would have expected to make…”

[smittywing]

Dearly Beloved if still possible?

Sure!

Dearly Beloved is another fake married fic, (because tropes are my jam) this time for a case. The case, naturally, is what's gumming up the works. It's over 13,000 words but God save me from plot.

# 

The neighborhood bar was a place called Gilbert’s and reminded Jason of the Manor library. Lots of leather and polished wood, a relaxed, somewhat subdued atmosphere, and just about anything he wanted delivered by a man with a British accent. 

They sat at the bar and ordered fish and chips with mashed peas and Tim doused his fries in a good quarter bottle of malt vinegar. Neither of them were legitimately old enough to drink, but their cover IDs were, so Jason ordered a Guiness and Tim ordered a craft beer and talked excessively about the merits of sour ales until someone else at the bar had to weigh in. 

Jason could go undercover with the best of them, but he had to admit that he was impressed with how gracefully Tim could duck and weave in and out between his true self and the role he needed to play. It made Jason wonder if he ever really saw the real Tim. 

The kid Tim was chattering with was named Mike - Jason looked up when he heard introductions going down - and despite being an easy five years younger, Tim treated him with casual seniority. 

“This is my husband, Jay,” Tim said, glancing over his shoulder and granting a smile that made even Jay - Jason - believe that they were finally settled and happy after a tumultuous courtship and an avalanche of complicated feelings. 

Replacement was fucking *good* at this shit. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jason said, offering his hand to Mike. “You here alone?”

“Jay,” Tim breathed and Jason felt a hard grip on his knee. Wow. Replacement was going all in. 

Mike flushed. “I uh, I was waiting for someone,” he mumbled. “Don’t think he’s showing though.”

“This guy stood me up on our first date,” Jason said casually. 

“You gave me the wrong address,” Tim said without missing a beat. And Tim claimed to hate it when Jason improvised. 

“And now you’re married?” Mike asked eagerly. “How did you meet?”

“I went down on him in the bathroom of a dance club,” Jason said, pleased with his own straight face. 

“Jay!”

Their meet-cute was in the legend, because Tim apparently had a very clear idea of how his grand imaginary romance with Golden Boy had gone. They had played on the same intramural soccer team in college but were set up on a blind date by a mutual friend. It had been a textbook romance but Jason knew it wouldn’t have been textbook, not with him. 

Tim palmed the back of Jason’s neck and squeezed, hard enough for Jason to feel the rebuke in it but simultaneously swept his thumb up the throbbing tendon in the side of Jason’s neck. Jason immediately popped a stiffie. Fuck. 

“That’s how it happened,” Jason doubled down. “I’m good at what I do,” he said, leaning around Tim to leer at Mike. 

“That’s not what we tell polite company,” Tim muttered. His hand hadn’t left Jason’s neck and his fingers were sliding up Jason’s neck and into his hair. 

Jason’s cock twitched again, and he shifted on the stool. 

“Aw, Mikey’s not polite company, he’s our neighbor now, right?” Jay asked, hooking his hand around Tim’s hip. He could feel the jut of Tim’s hipbone through his khakis and yeah, that wasn’t helping the situation in Jason’s pants *at all*.  

Tim laughed, not his usual quiet chuckle but an actual laugh Jason knew had to be fake because he had never, ever heard it before. “You are the worst,” he said affectionately, which Jason had *definitely* heard before though maybe not in that tone. “Let him decide for himself, okay?” 

He stood up on the rung of his barstool, briefly towering above Jason, and - holy shit - dropped a kiss, equally sweet and dirty, into Jason’s mouth. Tim tasted like his stupid apricot beer as he leaned away and stepped off the stool, heading for the men’s room. 

Jason licked his lower lip - fucking *apricot*, really Tim? - and watched Tim’s trim ass disappear into the restroom before he looked back at Mike, whose pupils had gone heart-shaped. 

“This isn’t that kind of place,” Mike volunteered before Jason could say anything. 

“What kind of place?” Jay asked, his mind still on Tim’s perfect ass. 

“The kind of place where you follow him and recreate your first meeting,” Mike said, but it wasn’t even a leer. Poor kid was just a hopeless romantic. 

Jason shook his head and smiled into his beer. He hoped it looked abashed, like maybe that was what he was actually thinking. “What are you doing drinking that fruity shit, kid?” he asked. “C’mon, pick out something that will put hair on your chest.”

“I actually like a nice lambic,” Mike said.

God save him from people who wanted to call their beer anything other than beer. 

“You been here long?” Jason asked as Mike studied the beer menu like he’d never seen it before.

“My whole life,” he answered idly. “I mean, I’ve been in Bludhaven my whole life. I only moved down here after my parents died.”

“Sorry to hear,” Jason said. Almost everyone Jason knew was an orphan but this was not usually the conversation he had with them. 

“It’s, I mean, I miss them but it’s easier, kind of. They weren’t very good with me being - you know. Out.”

Jason hummed in sympathy. He didn’t really know much about that either. He glanced toward the restrooms wondering when Tim was going to *get his ass back here.* He needed at least another topic or two of small talk before he could comfortably discuss the bloody murder spree without seeming suspicious. 

“Hey.” 

Jason turned to see a tall, heartbreakingly handsome man standing over Mike with a hand on his shoulder. He appeared to be talking to Jason.

“You must be Mike’s date,” the man said, squaring his free hand at Jason. Jason met it, going for firm, but friendly. The other guy gripped harder.

“Not me,” he said, holding up his left hand in defense. “I’m here with my husband. We were just chatting with Mike.”

“Oh yeah?” the guy drawled, sizing Jason up. He seemed skeptical. “You new to the neighborhood?”

“We are,” Jason acknowledged, finally getting his hand back. “We’re subletting a place in the Remington building. I’m Jay.”

“Danny Ramirez,” the man grunted.

“You can call me Al,” Tim cut in, appearing at Jason’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, hi,” Danny said, taking Tim’s hand in a far gentler grip and doing the most obvious wedding ring check in the history of ever. “Danny.”

“I can’t leave you along for a minute, can I?” Tim chided Jason softly.

“Hey, you’re the one who picked up Mike,” Jason reminded him. “I just found his bodyguard.”

“Danny’s not my bodyguard,” Mike interrupted. “He’s just a friend. He’s protective.”

“Gotta watch out for our little buddy,” Danny said. He seemed to be warming up. Marginally.

“I like that neighbors watch out for each other,” Tim said. “I work in Gotham but Jay’s a writer and he works from home.”

Jason stepped on Tim’s foot. Tim snaked his foot away before Jason could press down and snagged his ankle around Jason’s. 

*Writer* was not in the legend.  Jason was supposed to be a fucking *insurance agent*.

“What kind of books do you write?” Mike piped up eagerly. “Or do you write magazine articles? Or something else?”

“I’m, uh - “ Jason started, but Tim was way ahead of him.

“He’s writing a crime novel,” he said, fucking *beaming*. His hand pressed warmly into the small of Jason’s back, under his jacket and dammit, Jason was going to get all hot and bothered again.  “He was a reporter for *years* and now he’s going to write a novel. A series of them.”

“Wow really?” Mike asked, clearly awed by Jason’s impending fame. “Like Michael Connelly? Or Harlan Coban? Or -”

“I mean, I haven’t written anything yet,” Jason cautioned because what the actual fuck. 

“But when he gets published, we’ll have a big party,” Tim volunteered. “Maybe we can rent out this place.”

“Don’t see why not,” Danny said. “Seamus Finnegan owns the place. He’s always up for a party.”

“I have to write this book first,” Jason said, but clearly nobody gave a shit what he thought about the matter. 

#

“I don’t want to hear anything else about me improvising,” Jason told Tim as they finally escaped Mike and Danny - and their friends, who all wanted to hear about Jason’s book - and trudged back to their base. “What the fuck? Am I Raymond Chandler, now? I’m supposed to be an insurance salesman!”

“Dick was supposed to be an insurance salesman,” Tim noted. “Dick can sell ice to penguins. You needed a job that lets you move around the neighborhood during work hours. I’ll be at Wayne Enterprises most days but you’re the one who’s going to be making heavy contact with this group and it shouldn’t be weird that you’re around a lot.”

“I couldn’t just be unemployed?” Jason asked, because he knew all about that. His dad had been unemployed on a professional basis, when he wasn’t working random thuggery jobs for criminals with actual brains.

“You *are* unemployed, honey,” Tim said, letting them into the building with a wicked grin. “It just sounds better to say that you’re writing a book.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jason said without heat, punching the button to summon the elevator. “And what do I do when someone wants to read this book, huh?”

“I mean, you could actually write a book while we’re here,” Tim said. “If you need another income stream. Or you get bored.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, steering Tim gently into the elevator by the back of the neck. “In case I get bored.”  

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Sister Knows Best

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: “My sister thinks we are dating.” With Roy

Roy Kent x Reader

0.6k words

Warnings: Language, fluff

“Go Pheebs!” you shouted. When the little blonde scored an impressive goal, you clapped your hands together and let out a few enthusiastic cheers. Your eyes locked with her coach, who rolled his eyes at you teasingly. In return, you stuck your tongue out at your colleague-turned-friend (and secret crush), who had invited you to come see Phoebe play in the first place.

“How’re you and my brother doing?” a voice next to you asked.

You hoped Doctor O’Sullivan didn’t see the way your eyes widened at her question. “Doing?” you echoed. “I’m fine. He’s fine, I guess. Almost seems to be enjoying his job, which is nice to see.” You cleared your throat and directed your attention back to the field. “And you? How are you?”

Her eyes bore holes into your head for a moment before she shrugged and joined you in watching the game. “Oh. Yeah, I’m good, thanks.” She barely spoke to you for the rest of the afternoon, except to comment on the match and thank you for coming afterwards. Usually, she could be counted on to chat and joke with you whenever the two of you saw each other; her silence was deafening.

The interaction was still bouncing around in your head when you sat next to Roy in a pub, sipping pints and deciding what to get for dinner. Roy could practically see the gears turning in your mind.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” he teased over the top of his glass. “Upset that Phoebe only scored three goals?”

You shook your head. “Just… your sister was weird today.”

You swore something in Roy’s expression faltered as he leaned back and cleared his throat. “My… my sister?”

“Yeah.” You traced the rim of your class absently. “She was all ‘How’re you and my brother doing?’, and when I told her that I’m fine and that I think you’re fine, she got kind of quiet.” After a moment, you added, “Is everything alright with her?”

Roy stared at you for a moment, mouth half-open, before letting out a huff. “My sister… thinks we’re dating.” He winced, waiting for your eyeroll, or sharp laughter, or wrinkled nose, or some other expression about how ridiculous the one thing he really wanted was.

He was taken aback by your surprised expression, eyes wide and jaw dropped. If he wasn’t suddenly so nervous, he would have thought you looked particularly adorable.

“Why would she think that?” you asked, your voice small and timid.

Roy licked his lip, wondering how to say this carefully. “Well.” He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “She knows we hang out. And I don’t fucking yell at you the way I do at everyone else at work.” His gaze shifted downwards. “Apparently I talk about you a lot,” he mumbled. Still not quite looking at you, he gave a little shrug. “I… I’ve told her we’re just friends, but…” He finally met your gaze. “She doesn’t quite believe me.”

“Someone should set her straight,” you said softly, your gentle voice not at all convincing him that you meant what you were saying.

“Someone should,” Roy hummed, casually placing his arm around your chair. “Unless…” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe, just this once, I let my sister be right?”

His words jumbled around your mind for a moment before you finally nodded. “She is a doctor,” you joked quietly, letting yourself lean close. “I’d hate to tell a doctor she’s wrong.”

“In that case-”

As Roy gently pressed his lips to yours, you couldn’t help but think that you and his sister would have a lot to talk about the next time you saw each other.

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: It's been back and forth the last few months between you and Hawks and finally you're both out for a date!...or not. You couldn't have ghosted him, right? A/N: About a couple years ago I was obsessed with Why Don't We so yes I'm using one of their songs LMAO sue me WARNINGS: GN reader and angst (it gets resolved I'm not evil!)

Oh, she talks so sweet, like sugar, like candy

It’s a first date and firsts are important, so he’s gotta be sure to make a good impression. A shower and a lot more to his normal concession to fanciness: the comb’s brushed through his hair more times than he count, tugged at the collar of his shirt wondering if it was too much, too casual, god it was getting kind of hot wearing it would it smell like sweat-

“I don’t mind. Smells like you.” Ah, that smirk that caused him to blush so badly and throw his hoodie at you. Okay, don’t worry so much. Just be your usual self.

Makes me wanna be the best man that I can be

He’s got the flowers, your favorite of course, and they were in full bloom when he walked past that florist. He’s prepared to pay the bill, ready to be the gentleman by rehearsing in his head what he’d do. Pull out your chair, compliment, a dinner place of your choice.

For you, nothing but the best, he swears in his head as he flies out into the night.

I like that she keeps things oh-so simple

The flirty game of cat and mouse the both of you had had going on before in his office was beyond fun and always left him wanting more of you - interactions, voice, touch. He made it obvious from the start that he was into you, what with his more than friendly suggestions, insistence on meals together and overprotectiveness should any of his sidekicks even think of looking at you.

It was startling to him that you had returned it though in the same gestures. He liked that about you; you didn’t beat around the bush and worked to get what you wanted.

In this case it was him and he wasn’t complaining.

Less stress, more uh, yeah, she got the dimples

It had taken exactly three months, one week and a half and five days for it to come to a head. One of you was going to crack and it was him, inevitably, when he dropped by with his daily pickup line and coffee for you. You’d flash that coy, sweet smile. “I might actually think you’re interested in me if you keep doing that.”

“What gave it away?” He made his standard, joking reply.

“I dunno. I said might. When you actually ask me out I’ll be convinced.”

I get scared when I think about the future

As a pro hero he had to think about the risks of having a significant partner who would become the target of much villain attacks, paparazzi and obsessed fans. As himself even he would admit the playboy image they painted and he supplied was not exactly flattering. As a normal person, was anyone really ready for commitment, potential heartbreak…?

But all this could be dealt with. It all faded to background noise, yadda yadda yadda…

Because, actually, now that he thought about it, had he OPENLY asked you out?

I'm a junk man, she's a promise abuser

“Well, when you do, I’ll say yes and I’ll be really, really interested as well.”

“Okay, will you go out with me for dinner tonight then?”

You blinked, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish while he stared at you expectantly. “…um, what? I wasn’t…expecting…”

“You said you’d say yes!”

“Huh, I did say that.” You flashed another million watt smile. “Okay then. How about eight?”

Hell, I know that we're bad for each other

It’s been almost ten minutes - you must have run into traffic. Not unusual on a bustling night like this, with everyone in a terrible hurry to get, get, get somewhere. The tapping of his foot aligned with the ticking of the clock he was watching anxiously. He’s glad he had requested a more private table at the back to prevent fans from noticing their favorite Pro Hero, but now even more so he wouldn’t see the glances of pitying diners wondering who had stood him up so badly to see his hopeful face crack away bit by bit.

No, you wouldn’t ditch him like this. That was just cruel; you were a tease. You wouldn’t do this.

It’s the third refill of his cup when he finally accepts that you’re not coming.

I made my own bed but she tucked me under

A pathetic KFC dinner was not how he had envisioned the evening but that’s what he’s sitting with, hunched on his couch, wondering what went wrong.

Were you playing with him? Did you think he wasn’t serious? Were you offended he hadn’t come pick you up? Had you both somehow miscommunicated the date? Did you realize you didn’t actually want all the crap that came with being a Pro Hero’s significant other?

He chucked his trash into the bin and wished he could do the same with his emotional turmoil.

We did it for the hell of it

You didn’t even show up the next day at work - you must really be going that far to avoid him, huh?

Not like he’d bring it up, to be honest. It was embarrassing that he had managed to be duped so well, that he was rejected indirectly in public. It hurt that you didn’t even bother to answer ANY of his messages. It stung that he had no apology and he couldn’t say one himself because you. Weren’t. There.

But your jacket was, hanging forlornly by your chair, so internally he apologized and took it home to toss onto his bed-nest and fall asleep to the fading scent of you.

We did it for the good times and the bad ones

So this was what it was like to be hung up. 10/10 would not recommend, he decided. Usually he was distracted during hero work occasionally thinking about you, but now he still was and doing a sloppy job according to the Commission with his listless attitude and moping. Probably why they just about forced him to take a day off.

Nothing much to do. You hadn’t gone to work for a third day already. Who was he to text? Usually he’d be blowing up your phone with stupid pickup lines he found online, the silly stuff he’s seen people doing while flying, bad singing of whatever song he was listening to at that time. Sometimes it ended in not-so-coincidental meetups. You’d respond to every message with one just as ridiculous as his. Rumi only responded ”your crush not around?” when he spammed her instead.

Could’ve been more, he grumbled aloud. Could’ve been until you went AWOL after doing the equivalent of dumping him.

We didn't think about what shit might happen

He’s driving himself crazy. Over what? Over some crush? There were billions of other people who’d kill for the chance to go out with him.

But it was not some crush - it was you. He didn’t want the billions - he wanted you. It was the fourth day and your desk was still empty - where were you?

He asked around casually. Only Rumi gave him a knowing look. Nobody knew where you were. Your friend at the agency had mentioned you had been pretty excited about some date with a friend- hope? he wanted to think so - that day but since then there wasn’t any updates.

“What if a kidnapping happened?! Like those scammers who pretend to be a date and then end up drugging you instead?!”

He coughed. “Yeah…I don’t think that happened, don’t worry.”

But once you light a fire, it's gonna burn

On the fifth day he sent his fifteenth message.

No wonder you vanished, he grimaced. Nobody wanted a clingy texter who couldn’t take the hint. But here he was, finger hovering above the send button and scrolling past the plaintive texts of before: asks on when you were coming and were you going to be late and where were you, the occasional “guess what I saw today” that he’d usually send you when he was feeling braver, apologies for pestering you and making you uncomfortable with the date and the…never ending texts even though you were probably ghosting him by now.

Today he’d get over it, he repeated with finality and misery. One last “sorry” and on he’d move.

>>I'll be okay to keep it simple

The phone’s abandoned on the table for the rest of the night while he slams his head into his pillow, allowing himself a few moments to sulk one last time before heading into the shower after the long day of work (without you there).

He hopes you’ll at least see it. Maybe text back.

Then again that would probably rip open the wound wide once more so perhaps it was better if you ignored him. He could block you for good measure.

The shower pounded down on his head. No, he sighed, he couldn’t block you if he tried.

>>I'll stay outta your way and won't let you know

The ping on his phone indicating a text message alerts him but he figures it must be the paperwork that he’s been running away from (without your help there was no way he’d be able to do it) from catching up to him, so he takes his sweet time to leisurely change and blow dry his hair before he actually picks the phone up.

He falls back onto the bed. Stunned, shocked. Maybe a bit hopeful. Confused, crushed. Funny how just one message can do that.

Hawks, can you come to my house tonight? I need to talk to you<<

Of course, when has he ever refused you? He was out of the window before he even realized what he was doing and how damn stupid this all was, that he was setting himself up for another heartbreak, you were finally going to break it to him that you didn’t show up because you didn’t know how else to reject his pushy advances and oh shit he’s forgotten to wear his shoes properly and now they were falling off midair-

“I…wasn’t expecting you that fast.”

“I’m the Wing Hero?”

You allowed your face to curl into a broken smile. “Yeah, we all know that, birdbrain.”

Humans always want what they couldn’t have. You were dolled up so pretty for some reason, even in the horrible lighting coming from your living room behind you. He was glad the shadow fell on his face, standing at your door, so you wouldn’t see the heartbreak twisting his expression. Don’t call me birdbrain if you’re going to leave, he prayed.

“So,” he said to cut the awkward pause. “Why am I here?”

“I…it’s probably easier to explain inside. Come on in.”

It's not the first time he's been in but he's pretty surprised to see your dining table pushed out, covered in a tablecloth and decorated with the whole nine yards: dinner for two, candles and flowers. Is this how you're really gonna toy with him before breaking it off?

You take him by the arm and lead him there, half pulling out a chair for yourself before he interrupts plainly. “You didn't have to do all this.”

“Yeah, well, I really wanted to-”

“You could've just told me you didn't want to go out with me. Not stand me up and just, what, vanish without telling anyone?!”

“Hawks-”

“You didn't have to do this.” Why couldn't you spare him pain instead? He was a fool, yes, but no reason for you to let him be this foolish.

He shuts his eyes to trap the water and when he opens them his face is suddenly smooshed between your cradling palms while you force him to look at you and your serious, pleading expression.

“Hawks, will you listen to me? Please?”

“Listening,” he tried to say, but since his mouth was partially squished he nodded instead. Also his throat was blocking, probably from the almost-crying.

“I’m not playing with you when I say I can explain everything - I was actually on my way to the date when I got a call from my mom. My dad's health isn't the greatest right now so I had to rush back to my hometown after he had a bad fall. My phone's battery died that night and where my parents live don't exactly have the greatest of Internet connections so I was literally cut off from everyone. I came back once he was okay and so…” You take a deep breath and remove a hand to gesture around. “I really do like you, Hawks, so if you want we can redo the date?”

Perhaps his eyes were watering thanks to the candles or flower allergies. He buried his face into your neck, arms wrapped tight around you. Your hand stroked through his hair. “Don't scare me like that again.”

“I'd never ditch you like that, birdbrain.”

“Can we skip straight to the part where we kiss now?”

I need your love tonight

I need your love

[frozenjokes]

CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (1/3)

I absolutely refuse to go through an add italics to the tumblr versions of my fics but grian is so angry all of the time it was necessary in this case

next

“So let me get this straight.” Grian, well, CuteGuy stood over HotGuy, the hero’s head pinned under his own boot. It was times like these that Grian considered ditching the boots altogether; wrapping his talons around any hero’s face like this would be an absolute sight, but alas, he wasn’t trying to get painful calluses all over his feet. Grian was sure HotGuy could escape this if he wanted to; he’d just have to roll to knock Grian off, but he stayed still, staring up at Grian with those big, pathetic eyes. “You want my help with your romantic endeavors. You want to pretend fight so you can pretend win, yeah? Impress that special someone?”

Grian knew who it was, of course. Not because HotGuy announced it or because it was on the news, no, but because this certified idiot had set his sights on Cub. Cub! His roommate Cub. What could HotGuy even want from a guy like Cub- just a guy! A human, not even a conventionally attractive human, who hardly knew anything about heroes and villains other than their names! Cub, who worked a shitty job with a shitty manager, who basically did nothing but go on little walks and hang out at home- there was nothing about Cub that stood out, so why in the fuck was HotGuy so- Grian hissed, pressing a little harder on HotGuy’s head, who grunted. HotGuy didn’t get to have Cub. Cub wasn’t- HotGuy didn’t even know him! He didn’t get to take Cub- his Cub- and turn him into some kind of hero worshiper!

“Stop looking at me like that!” Grian’s anger reached its boiling point, though HotGuy didn’t flinch, looking more disappointed than anything.

To his credit, he did look away, pursing his lips, “So I take it you’re not a fan of the idea.” The infuriating amicable lilt to his voice stayed even despite his face being crushed against the pavement, and Grian wanted nothing more than to choke it out of him.

“What gave you that idea?” Grian snarled, and HotGuy shrugged.

“When you’re really pissed off you start drooling, and honestly, it’s quite gross. Are you stressed? Have you considered Xanax? Does wonders for me on bad days.”

“My insurance won’t renew my prescription and my doctor fucking sucks.”

“Ah, I feel you buddy. I mean, I basically live in a hospital, but sometimes I need some more benign stuff and it just feels like the whole system is out to get you! Don’t even get me started on before I got into the hero business, gosh. Well, if it makes you feel any better, you were far from my first choice. I asked The Goat, but he told me that would be a monumental waste of his time, Mumbo told me he wouldn’t be convincing enough and also to stop calling him he’s retired, I haven’t seen Worm Man for years but I’m still looking-“

“How many people did you ask before me?” Grian tried not to be offended, but honestly, he was very offended- HotGuy has the gall to ask favors then admit Grian wasn’t his first choice? Why not? He knew why. But why not???

“Anyone I could find, really. I mean, heroes are easy enough to track down, but a lot of them are busy and also don’t give a fuck, but villains kinda just wander around and cause problems wherever. Though, I figured if I stood here long enough you’d jump me like you did last time. Hey, by the way, if you see Poultry Man, will you tell him I’d like to talk?”

Grian seethed; he had seen HotGuy up on the apartment complex where they had fought last and assumed he was looking for Cub- was Grian really that predictable?

“The last thing Poultry Man would want to do is help you impress some guy you don’t even know- what’s the deal anyway? Don’t answer that, I don’t care.”

“Hey! I know Cub plenty! We had such a nice walk the night you broke my visor and then a lovely lunch date the next day! Well- maybe not a date. I don’t know, I never asked what he thought. I kind of don’t want to know, though. And I wasn’t going to ask Poultry Man to help me do anything, I just wanted to talk to him about all the chickens he released into the poor woman’s home- it’s not important-“

“Poor woman? She’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s not important,” Scar strained, and Grian felt the tiniest bit vindicated, “All I meant to say is that I would feel bad beating the shit out of Poultry Man, even if it was just pretend. He’s just a misguided guy in a chicken costume.

“Misguided?” Grian’s hiss cracked into a higher pitch, “Poultry Man is EVIL. Poultry Man could CRUSH YOU. What makes you think you’re any match against him, huh? Really.”

“I mean, his costume looks a bit bulky, not great for maneuvering. I doubt he can see very well out of the mask, too. I don’t know, maybe he’s like, secretly ripped or something, but I still don’t think he could do much damage.”

“You’ll regret underestimating him when you’re taking your last breaths under his claws.”

“Oh, I hope not! I just wanted to chat about where he got those chickens, but you’re nice for standing up for him! You’re a good friend, CuteGuy.”

“I-“ Grian felt his body short circuit for a moment, everything replaced with the type of fury that can only be released by picking someone up and violently shaking them. HotGuy was perfectly polite about it, enduring Grian’s fit of rage before hanging somewhat limply in his arms, not even using his own legs to stand after Grian was done. HotGuy stared. Grian stared back.

“You’re strong.”

“Fuck you.” Grian dropped HotGuy, who just collapsed, wholly unready to support his own weight. Fine. Good. With a few strong beats of his wings, Grian took off, leaving HotGuy firmly in the dust. Flying was good and the evening breeze was good and if shaking someone annoying wasn’t enough to make them stop being annoying, then it was time to let it go. Something Grian was famously bad at.

When he looked back HotGuy was still just laying there, INFURIATINGLY, just staring at the sky! He wasn’t even looking at Grian, he was just completely zoned out-! What was his damn problem?

Grian’s boots cracked against the cement on either side of HotGuy’s waist, and HotGuy screamed, so genuinely frightened, Grian was pretty sure the noise would color his memory for the rest of his life. “Where are you meeting him?”

“What?” HotGuy squeaked, and the sound was just as beautiful.

“Where do you want me to be for your stunt?”

“I-I was going to meet Cub at the City Park-“

“Are you crazy? Are you trying to get me arrested? You’ll meet here, in the parking lot across the street at 9:00. And I don’t do play fights, but if you shoot me I’ll rip you a new one. And I want $500.”

“That’s- a lot of money-“

“You won’t miss it. You and your piece of shit rich friends spend that kind of change like it’s nothing on designer clothes and cocaine. And I want to see your sorry face when you’re forced to cough it up after I flatten your ass then steal your man.”

“You- why are you so mean to me? Hey- you are not allowed to-“ Grian didn’t let him finish, beating his wings hard enough to batter HotGuy’s face before taking off, definitively this time.

Perfect. This was going to be fun.