#morgan purse 5...

[unlosts]

hi !!

i'm pretty sure it was me w the perfume request! (my brain is so scattered i barely remember what i asked for but!! i'm so so excited to read it when you're done <33) (btw i'm loving the spencer fics and i'm psyched for more, your writing is so beautiful 🥹🫶🏼)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! It was exactly the one I lost. Hope you like it, I had a lot of fun with it 🫶🏼.

Also no one asked but I'm a firm believer that Hotch is a Grey Vetiver by Tom Ford guy, or he should be!

At exactly 9:18 the sound of the elevator opening interrupts the quiet morning, Aaron Hochner walks out heading briskly towards his office, coat over his shoulders and briefcase in hand, nodding in greeting to the rest of the team who collectively turn to stare at him with various degrees of confusion plastered on their faces. 

“I was about to call a S.W.A.T team,” Says Emily, stopping him in his tracks “again.” 

At that Hotch finally turns to face them, his usually pristine white shirt wrinkled like he had picked it off the floor that morning. 

“Excuse he?” He asks, brow arched. 

Derek lets out a laugh at this, languidly spinning his chair from side to side but before he can say anything JJ, ever the mediator, interrupts “You’re just not usually this late, we were starting to worry.”

“Yeah, cuz y’know you have a bad track record” Says Penelope with a grimace, she’s perched by Morgan's desk toying with a feathery pink pen while she talks.  

“They were worried, I just knew you were maybe having some fun for once” Derek chimes in with a smile, letting out a huff when Pen pokes his side with her pen. 

“There’s no need to make a scene out of it, I’m sure I've been late plenty of times before” He tries to say in a stern enough tone that they’ll hopefully drop the subject. 

It would be easy to classify it as merely teasing but Hotch knew the entire team worried about him, namely about his lack of a social life outside of work. And usually he would entertain their banter for longer but he really is late today and he can already feel the beginning of a headache forming. 

“Actually," Spencer adds without looking up from his paper“this year, you were only late three times, the last one being about two and a half months ago on July when you had a flat tire and had to wait for triple A”.

“Thank you for that, Spencer” Hotch says, shooting him a look.

“No problem”   

“Nothing happened, I just got stuck in a bad pile up on my way there and I was already cutting it close beforehand, so if you all could focus back on your files that would be great, we have to present our consults before 5 today” He says trying, and failing to regain a modicum of authority. 

Just when he thought that they had tired themselves out, the elevator opens up again and you spill out of it, carrying with you the floral scent of your perfume and a dazzling smile that spells nothing but trouble for him. The kind that makes him stay up until 2am in the middle of the week and turns what was meant to be a quick shower into a half hour delay. 

“Hello hello, sorry for being so late, there was a bad bad pile up on my way here” You speak without pausing once for breath, your heels click clacking on your way to your desk where you unceremoniously dump your coat and purse on top of your desk. Heading for the kitchen to brew a new pot of coffee. 

On your way there you playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair and wink at Pen, who can’t help but comment on your good mood “Well aren’t you happy this morning missy” 

You make eye contact with him for a split second and Hotch can feel his throat dry up, he always felt like you breathed life into any room you walked in, the sun patterns following your steps whenever you went. So it makes sense that even now in the middle of fall he feels something warm settle over him even with such a brief look. 

He thinks he’s been staring at you for hours when it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds, by the time he snaps out of it he finds Emily regarding him with a quizzical eye and a smile that does nothing for his brewing headache. 

“Well, I’ve just been having a very nice week” You reply pointedly “even went and got myself a new perfume” He did, actually, but it’s not like you can say that. 

Seeing an out in the conversation he starts once more to go towards his office before he’s interrupted, once again, by one Emily Prentiss. 

“Huh” She says, pinning him down with a perfectly arched eyebrow

“What?” He asks exasperated, quickly losing his patience. 

“Aren’t you testy today?” She teases “I was just thinking about the fact that you both got stuck in traffic, despite coming from opposite sides of the city, that’s all” And with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders that’s anything but, she turns to work on her files. 

You pop out of the kitchen carrying with you two expertly done mugs of coffee, and even better timing, hastily sitting by Emily’s desk and leaving one mug in front of her. 

“I was hoping you could look over one of my cases with me? I’ve been stuck for ages and I could use a fresh set of eyes?” 

“So this is bribery coffee?”

“No, the bribe is the very nice bottle of red I have back at my place that’s all yours next girls night, the coffee is just because I’m a delight to be around” You reply grinning at her. 

Emily huffs a laugh and with everyone distracted Hotch finally makes his escape, shutting his office door and basking in the blissful quiet of his office. 

He spends the next hour and a half failing to fill expense reports, his mind wandering to your hair splayed on the pillows this morning; you staring up at him in the shower, a droplet of water running from the bridge of your nose to rest on your lip being kissed away by him. The exact dazzling smile from this morning but all his to keep.

The lost twenty minutes after dressing he spend with you pressed against the entrance door, your hands running over his back.  

With an hour left to go before lunch and a creek in his neck from leaning his head on his palm all morning he gives up and goes to get himself his second coffee of the day.

In the kitchenette right by the vending machine is his headache personified, getting herself a bag of skittles. 

While he makes his coffee Emily pauses next to him and extends the bag of candy in a silent offer that he declines with a shake of his head, right before leaving she says “I do love the new cologne, very summery fresh, but just a heads up, I do think she wears it better than you” 

[readingcoco]

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door. 

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls. 

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?” 

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.” 

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself. 

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow. 

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

-

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write. 

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta. 

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you. 

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly. 

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.” 

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor. 

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention. 

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear. 

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up. 

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?” 

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen. 

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it. 

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.” 

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth. 

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,” 

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?” 

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”  

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…” 

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.” 

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too. 

“So which is it, Deputy?” 

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”  

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.” 

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.” 

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table. 

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.” 

“Arthur Callahan.” 

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall. 

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair. 

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele. 

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?” 

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-” 

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish. 

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.” 

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?” 

“A bit.” 

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?” 

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further. 

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far. 

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh. 

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat. 

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?” 

“Will you show me your drawings?” 

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no. 

“I’ll behave.” 

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.  

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.” 

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm. 

“Hands behind your back.” 

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste. 

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table. 

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you. 

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-” 

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.” 

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!” 

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention. 

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty. 

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious. 

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-'' 

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on. 

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?” 

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?” 

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head. 

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.” 

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist. 

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

[mentally-gone002]

is it too early to love you? - part 3

(moodboard made by moi)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

summary: another case has reader flying to another city. she silently copes with not being in a relationship anymore but finds herself in spencer’s hotel room. 

a/n: i wrote all the parts so that’s why im releasing them so fast gang

————————————————————————

i woke up after my alarm. about an hour after. of course i woke up late the day after i was dumped. 

i quickly got dressed, made my hair look somewhat reasonable and then left, driving quickly through the morning traffic to get to work before i was late enough to make people worry.

but of course i was late, and it made people worry. 

as soon as i got into the roundtable room everyone’s heads snapped in my direction. 

“are you okay?” penelope was the first to ask, remote in hand as she was mid-brief with the rest of the team. her hand landed in my shoulder lightly.

i nodded at her and sat beside spencer like i always did. my lips pursed together in a smile as i looked at everyone apologetically. “sorry for being late. continue garcia.” 

she nodded, still worried, but she continued with the brief. 

“hey,” spencer followed on my heels after the brief. we had thirty minutes until we were expected on the jet. “are you okay? you look tired.”

i nodded at his observation. “i’m okay, spence.” i walked faster than him to stop at my desk to grab the go bag i have stashed there just in case i don’t bring my usual one. “back to back cases suck.” i sighed heavily to myself with a lean against my desk. 

spencer stood in front of me, just observing. his mouth opened like he was going to say something but he refrained, walking away to his own desk a few feet away. 

my fingers pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing i could look at him without being reminded that he was one reason my relationship ended last night. 

yesterday morning. 

i don’t remember what time. 

and those voicemails he’d left. they kept playing in my head.

the pocket of my jacket i still had on buzzed with an incoming call. i took it into my hand and read the caller name. 

james.

hesitantly i answered. 

“hey.”

“hi. i forgot something at your place so im coming by to get it.” 

i straightened up a bit. “i’m not home.”

“i don’t care, i can ask for a spare key or something.”

“it isn’t like a motel, the landlord isn’t always there.” i sighed in exhaustion. “i’ll leave the key on my desk here, you can come in and get it.”

“i don’t want to come into your work.” james sounded impatient.

my eyes traveled over to where spencer was staring at me. when he was caught he looked away. “i’m leaving for a case… again, so i won’t be in.” 

james is silent. “okay, fine. i’ll be there in five minutes.”

“okay, i’ll leave it under my mousepad. bring it back when you’re done.” 

“whatever you say.” 

and then the call ended. 

i groaned quietly in exhaustion and slammed my hand wrapped around my phone into the desk, sounding a loud thump through the bullpen. i got a few looks, which consisted of every set of eyes from the team on me, and i smiled awkwardly. my hand hurt from how hard i hit the table. 

“you alright over here?” morgan walked up to me in a slow stride. he had a look of concern over his whole face. 

i nodded. they were gonna pester me until they find out what happened and why i’m acting the way i am. “i’m good, morgan.” i assured him. 

he gave me that look of ‘i can see right through you’ but didn’t push me to say anything else. “we should start heading towards the jet.” 

i nodded and grabbed my bag, after taking my apartment key off of my keychain to leave it where i told james it would be. 

i followed close with morgan and the rest of the team behind me to the elevators. spencer silently walked to my side, so close i would bump arms if i moved at all.

the wait for the doors to open was making me antsy. i just wanted to be on the jet and get out of this city. 

the elevator opened after the usual signaled noise it made and james walked out of it. his eyes met mine and then went to spencer’s. i swallowed thickly. 

“key?” he asked. 

i gestured to the bullpen. “where i said it was.” 

he sighed, looked at spencer again and walked into the bullpen quickly. 

as i stepped into the elevator the team gave me a collectively strange look. 

“we had an argument last night.” i muttered, trying to ebb the tension they were making me feel. some of their faces softened at my explanation, but spencer kept on staring in concern. 

i avoided his gaze like the plague. 

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

spencer noticed i was avoiding him more than usual. the team noticed too. trust me i didn’t love the idea of being away from him. he’s amazing and brilliant and everything about him is just… 

my knuckles wrapped against the door of spencer’s hotel room. it was midnight, or later than that. 

i knew spencer didn’t sleep most nights since i had to double with him on one case and he stayed up until two in the morning working on that case. 

when he opened the door i quickly went inside, not even taking in his appearance or saying a word. 

“i didn’t think you’d be awake.” spencer told me. “what’s going on?”

i sat on his bed, shaking my head. “i’m sorry i’ve been avoiding you.” i looked up at him through my eyelashes, observing his late night appearance that was just plaid pants, a t-shirt and an unbuttoned knitted sweater. 

he shook his head dismissively. “it’s okay. we all have our own reasons for things.” 

i shook my head. “james said that you like me… or he guessed you do.” my voice was shaking and i didn’t know why. “we got into an argument about it last week after rossi’s party… and then i left for that case and when i got home he had packed all of his things and left.” why did i tell him all of that?

spencer lowered himself onto the floor so that he could see my face instead of staring at the back of my head. “he broke up with you because of me?” 

i shrugged. “you were one of the reasons… but it was mostly my job… and me.” i shifted my eyes away from him as the teary feeling appeared behind them. 

“why didn’t you tell me?” 

“because i didn’t want to.” i focused on him. “i haven’t even told my mom yet.” i scoffed slightly at myself as i hid my face in my hands. 

spencer wanted to reach out a hand as an attempt to give me some comfort, but he resisted. 

“i’m sorry,” i sat up and looked at something behind spencer. “i don’t know why i came here and just ranted about something you probably don’t even give a shit about.” i stood up from his bed and started walking to the door. spencer caught my arm with his hand to stop me. “what’re you doing?” i quizzed. 

he shook his head slowly, just staring me in the eyes. i stared back because i didn’t know what to do. his hand loosened and slid down my arm to hold my hand. “i’m sorry.” he stepped closer until we were toe to toe. 

i had to crane my neck to look up at him. he’s taller than james by a few inches. “it’s fine.” i whispered, watching him stare at my lips for longer than he should. i got that strange feeling in my stomach as we just looked at each other. 

spencer moved after some time, leaning down, almost in slow motion, and he kissed me. he kissed me and i kissed him back. 

in the middle of his hotel room. 

in the middle of the night. 

and i liked it. it made my head go quiet and my body feel all fuzzy. like there was tv static under my skin. 

but i pulled away in a rush. “we shouldn’t have done that.” i murmured, lips grazing his as i spoke. spencer breathed heavily and searched my eyes for something, anything that would tell him that i liked it. he must have found it because i didn’t even try to hide the fact that i did. and he took that as a sign to kiss me again. 

i hummed, slotting my lips with his again. over and over again, letting the taste of him corrupt my mind until i realized my hands were in his hair and his hands were on my waist, pulling me closer than what i thought was possible. 

“spencer.” i pulled away, moving out of his grasp. “i can’t…” 

he looked at me like i was the only girl in the world. but he nodded, understanding why. his hands fell away from me hesitantly. “okay… okay, i’m sorry.” he whispered. 

i shook my head. “it’s okay. i… i liked it.” i smiled slightly at him and walked to the door, leaving quietly to my own room. 

i didn’t know what to make of the night because so much happened. but i felt happy, for the first time in two weeks, so it was worth it.

and as much as i hated to admit that james was right, he was. because spencer wouldn’t have kissed me if he didn’t like me like that… would he?

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby... Pain is Pleasure - Part 4.5

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

Rollies/Roly  – a hand rolled cigarette (I’m not sure if the slang is the same in other places/ that’s what we call it in England lol ) 

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! - 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES 

(PART 5 IS ON THE WAY, BUT ITS LONG, SO HERES 4.5) 

taglist - @babybatlover

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Part 4.5  

The night had arrived stretching across the sky, the last of the sunrays had been burnt away and drowned in the light of the moon. The stars glistened over the hilltops stretching out for miles with only a handful of grey clouds holding out on their last legs. 

The midnight hour struck the hallway clock, the soft bells chimed; echoing through the empty kitchen before the house fell back silent. A gentle breeze rustled through the glass screen door, the blinds swaying ever so slightly in their wake. 

Glow bugs, fireflies, crickets and cicadas joined in unison to sing the symphonies of nature as I sat toying with my feet amongst the grass in the swing chair of that great oak tree. Embraced in the lap of my gentle giant who, reaching into his pocket pulled out a small metal tin, scuffed and battered on the edges you could still see the remnants of the WWF logo embellished on the top. Ever a man for collections and memorabilia, Damian was never one to be rid of his childhood loves. 

Pulling his arm out from around my waist to recapture the use of both of his hands he cracked open the tin and revealed three perfectly rolled up cigarettes and a well worn lighter. Looking back at me he smirked and let out a gentle huff. 

“What? You think I didn’t know?” He smiled and rolled his eyes, placing one of the rollies in between his lips and sparking the lighter up before holding it out to me. 

How the smoke danced in the shadows cast by the moon, like a mischievous temptress begging for someone to give in to her sinful ways. Who was I do deny her such pleasure. I reached out and took the rollie before taking a long hard drag of that subtle and sweet smokey hit. Leaning back into the swing chair I exhaled, the light smoke cloud escaped my pursed lips and raced into the sky, as if on a mission to join their cloud friends above. 

Damian laughed gently as he closed the tin and returned it to his pocket, stretching his arm over me and back around my shoulders to hold me close. 

“You may think that you hide it well… and you do, from the others anyway. But I’ve seen you more than once sneak away to indulge in a cheeky smoke or two when you are stressed, Mariposa” Damian’s voice was low and soft as ever, my sweet gentle giant. The man that could dominate me in a thousand ways whilst protecting me in a thousand more. I couldn’t help but stare at his face as I took another drag, his beauty was truly out of this world, every feature that marked his body was as flawless as… well him. 

“However… Y/N” He questioned, leaning forward, refusing to break eye contact with me as he; himself took a drag from the cigarette between my fingers before leaning back into the chair, exhaling out the smoke I was so quick to try and inhale back in. Just a taste of that man was enough to have me on my knees begging for mercy. 

“You know we don’t hide secrets in this relationship. Not between you, or me. Not Rhea, or Finn or Dom. Honestidad y confianza mi amor. So why are you talking to Liv Morgan? And what’s with you and the Wyatts? I told you before Mi Vida, you don’t mess with all that. They aren’t necessarily bad people, but their world … eso es como magia oscura. You can’t trust them” Hie eyes fell deep into my soul, and I didn’t know what to do. I hated lying to them all, but the truth wasn’t going to set me free, it was going to break the world apart and I would lose them all forever. 

Leaning in to take another hit of my one true guilty pleasure I pondered in my mind how I would escape this situation. How do you not tell the truth but not lie to someone at the same time.  Distract them? 

“I’ve always loved the night you know; it’s always been so peaceful. Non-judgmental and full of new beginnings. You can lay down and go to sleep knowing the morning offers you a fresh start. A chance to do it differently…” I looked up to Damian as his facial expression remained unchanged. 

“Sometimes, those skeletons in our closet are best left to collect dust Priest, please” I looked up to him with those puppy dog eyes in the hopes he would accept my plea deal. 

Instead, he sat up with his strong muscular figure pulling me into his lap as he wrapped his arms tight around my waist. Taking a fistful of my hair he exposed my soft pale skin to the moonlight before running his teeth along my neckline. The goosebumps danced across my skin, every hair standing on edge as the pleasure in that moment flooded straight to my core. The mini pajama shorts I was wearing dampened by my persistent need to have this man spread my legs apart and tear into every last piece of me. His vocal undertone grew dark as he growled into my ear, agitated or conflicted the man was on a mission. 

“Usually, when you are being a brat” He spat through gritted teeth, “I’d fuck you right where you sit until you tell me what I want to hear” Taking a long inhale of my scent he ran his large hands down my back and into my mini shorts, realizing I wasn’t wearing any panties his grip tightened and that feeling sent my inner sex demon wild. I dropped the remainder of the cigarette to the floor, and it landed at the base of the chair, its hot red embers from the burning tobacco were quickly singed out by the dew soddened grass below our feet. 

Hoisting me further up into his lap Damian ran a hand across my hips and down the front of my shorts, his cold hands had me gasp for breath as his knuckles brushed across my bare clit.

 It really was a joy living up and away from your nosey neighbor’s.

Taking a heavy deep breath my head fell back as for the first time in weeks I was indulging in that sexual deprived need to have one of them touch me, fuck me, ruin me for all I care. 

Damian’s breath was hot and staggered against my neck as he bought up his left leg slightly to raise my body into the air, slipping his hand fully in between my legs he ran his two fingers between my wet folds and my stomach became a whirlwind of knots, drowning in every last millisecond of the moment. His pace wasn’t slow, but it certainly wasn’t fast paced either. As if he was teasing me, tempting my inner demons to expose every secret I had buried from them in exchange for sexual pleasures and favors in turn. 

“fuck priest” I hummed under breathy tones, my head leaning down onto his shoulder as his finger pace quickened, slipping his index finger inside me he began to pump harder, drawing out every last drop from my pussy to run down my inner thighs. 

Like a vicious animal in heat Damian’s demeanor had changed in a flash, gone out the window was this ‘No distractions’ bullshit as he pulled his hand form my shorts and stood up, holding me tight to his chest with one arm wrapped around me. Turning himself, he almost threw me at a roughened pace up against the old oak tree, with one hand behind my head to brace the impact; my legs instinctively fell from his waist in the hope of fining ground but were quickly scooped back up and around his waist as he leant back into my face, embracing me in a deep lustful kiss. Our tongue’s danced in the moon kissed light as his hands explored all over my body, breasts to hips, to thighs and back to my neck. Never fully satisfied with where they ended up. He paused to catch his breath for a moment leaning his forehead down to mine; 

“Shit y/n…” he panted, one hand now leaning against the tree for support and the other taking my right arm and guiding my palms to his crotch. The bulge was truly a magnificent display of manhood. Its bold thick appearance left me with an unsatiable appetite to feel it at the back of my throat. 

“You see what you do to me Mariposa… even you have me breaking the rules now” His voice was harsh, as if he was conflicted on where to go from here. 

I swallowed my fear as I looked deep into his eyes, surely this man loved me enough to forgive the secrets of my past. But I wasn’t about to expose myself tonight if I could help it, instead releasing my grip I crouched down to a deep squat before falling to my knees, to now be at the perfect height if I do say so myself. 

Pulling at the drawstring of his black sweatpants I lowered the waist band slightly and drew out his hard cock, licking my lips I glanced up for approval from my lord and savior whose eyes burned deep into me as his hands gripped the tree for stability, he nodded, breath now low and focused. 

I wasn’t about to miss my chance. 

From the base to the tip, I ran my tounge fully up his masterpiece before taking it in its full form to the back of my throat. As if my dreams had become a reality, all those weeks of begging, wishing, praying and hoping. Finally with Finn Fucking Balor asleep in bed, I now had Damian’s dick touching the back of my tonsils and I was loving every moment of it. I felt my gag reflex kick in as I bobbed up and down along his cock, its sweet and salty taste ever insatiable and addictive. My eyes watered as I craved more of him, I could hear his voice above me, mumbling in pleasure and whispering my name in hushed tones. We both knew full well that if any of the others woke up, we would have some explaining to do. 

Damian’s hand moved to the back of my head taking a fist full of my hair as he quickened my pace, the feeling inside him growing ever stronger with an overwhelming need not to let this feeling disappear. 

“Shit… shit… oh fuck… y/n I’m” Damian’s voice choked out each word, but instead of letting him try and finish his sentence I dug my fingernails deep into his thighs signaling to him, that he best not fucking stop. I wanted to taste that man’s orgasm, I wanted to feel it run down the back of my throat as I swallowed every last drop of him. 

And I did. 

Damian’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink, his mouth a gape and his braids half sprawled down his back as his grip to my hair tightened with every pump that released that delectable cum shot. A drop had escaped and began falling down my chin as I leaned back onto my heels and running a finger across, I was fast to lick the remainder off. 

Damian pulled his tracksuit bottoms back up, one hand still leaning on the tree as he lent down over me, panting heavily. His eyes didn’t break contact with mine, he didn’t blink or move as I rose back up to my feet. 

He snaked his hand around my waist and lent down to place a soft subtle kiss on my forehead.

“Gracias Mi amor’ Damian smiled before placing another kiss to my lips. 

He ran his hand up my back and took a tight grip to my neck, pulling out my phone from his pocket along with the metal WWF tin. He smirked before pushing me back to the swing chair and forcing me to take a seat as he stood in front, his frame towering over head. 

“Nice try Muñeca…” He smirked as he lit another cigarette and held it out to me, sparking up his own and taking a soft drag. 

“Distractions done... Now talk.” He held my phone up from his pocket so I could see it in full view. 

“Wyatts first? Or Liv Morgan? You pick.” He tossed the phone into my lap. 

“Unless you want me to wake Finn up? Let him know what’s been going on?” Damian winked at me. 

I gritted my teeth before taking my first drag and pulled one leg up into the chair towards my chest, taking a deep breath. 

Guess it was now or never. 

“I’m not the person you think I am…” I said. 

TBC 

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Five:

Evelyn and Genevieve stepped into the haven of nostalgia for them. The walls, adorned with vintage photographs and local memorabilia, were faded brick and wood. Laughter bubbled up from tables around them, mingling with the soft strum of a guitar somewhere in the background. The air was rich with the scent of garlic and oregano, and the warm glow of string lights above cast a soft inviting glow overhead as she slipped into the warmth of the dimly lit corner booth.

Genevieve's eyes, sharp and observant, had the kind of clarity that came from her experience on the force, yet they sparkled with the same intensity that had driven her to become a cop in the first place. Her skin had a sun-kissed glow, a testament to countless hours under the Californian sun, but it was offset by a certain weariness that spoke of sleepless nights and too much coffee.

"So, tell me everything, Evie," she coaxed, leaning in. "How's life treating you at the BAU?"

Evelyn's smile was a burst of sunshine, lighting up her features with an infectious joy. She fiddled absentmindedly with her spoon. "It's been intense, but amazing," she replied. "Though, I must admit, it's refreshing not to be around people who can deduce your life story based on your coffee order, let alone how you're feeling before you've even fully woken up."

Genevieve laughed, her eyebrow arching in playful accusation. "Tell me about it, you've been doing it to me since we were twelve," she said, her eyes narrowing with mock severity. "But anyway, tell me about these infamous coworkers. Anyone... interesting?"

Evelyn's enthusiasm bubbled over as she began to gush about her colleagues. "Oh, they're incredible! JJ--she's got this uncanny ability to connect with victims, and Penelope, our tech goddess, can unravel anyone's dirty secrets with a click of a button. Morgan--he's like the best protective older brother, Rossi--he's like a walking encyclopedia of criminal behavior. And Prentiss, she can read a room like no other, she's been through a lot, but it only makes her stronger."

She paused, taking a sip of her wine, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And then there's Hotch. He's our unit chief, you know? So poised, so... commanding. And Reid," she sighed dreamily, "he's just a genius. His mind works like no one else, and he's got this awkward charm that's just..."

Genevieve smirked, leaning in, accusation on her tongue. "Sounds like someone's got a bit of a crush."

Evelyn's eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her wine. "What? No, I mean--they're just my coworkers, well, and my boss."

"Uh-huh," Genvieve teased, winking. "Just coworkers. Got it."

The laughter was cut short by the shrill ring of Evelyn's phone. She fished it out of her purse, the screen flashing Hotch. Her heart skipped a beat as she answered, "Gideon here."

"Evelyn, wheels up in 20. Kidnapping case in Rapid City, South Dakota. Two children, siblings, taken from their backyard. Local PD found an abandoned car with possible evidence. I need you here, ASAP." Hotch's voice retained a steady composure, yet there was an undercurrent of urgency that subtly underscored each word, compelling immediate attention.

A shadow of disappointment passed over Evelyn's features as she offered Genvieve a wordless apology. "Understood, on my way, sir."

She stood up, throwing on her purse with practiced haste. "Sorry, Gen, duty calls. Raincheck?"

"Go. Those kids need you," Genevieve said, her tone laced with mixture of pride and concern.

With a smile that conveyed her thanks, Evelyn hastened to the exit. As she swung the door open, she couldn't resist yelling over her shoulder, "Just coworkers!"

--

Evelyn burst through the doors of the conference room. The sharp click of her heels punctuated her every step, commanding the room's attention. She glided past the long table, her dress--a cascade of midnight blue that clung to her like a second skin--captured the soft light, giving her an ethereal glow. Her hair cascaded down in a tumble of soft girls that gently brushed her shoulders, giving her an air of relaxed grace. As she moved a hint of vanilla trailed behind her, a delicate perfume that lingered in the air, turning heads as she passed.

"Hi, everyone, sorry I'm late," she chirped, her go bag landing with a decisive thud. "You would not believe the traffic, and then I--,"

"Whoa, mama, someone's bringing the heat tonight!" Garcia interrupted, her eyes twinkled with delight, a grin spreading across her face as she took in Evelyn's appearance.

Morgan's laughter was a low rumble, his posture relaxed into the chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Damn straight. What's the occasion, doll face?" he teased.

Evelyn flashed a playful grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, you know, just saving the world in high heels and haute couture," she joked. "But no, I was out with a friend, didn't have time to change. I'll do that on the plane."

Hotch's penetrating stare, typically reserved for dissecting the minds of unsubs, now settled on Evelyn with an unspoken intensity. His deep brown eyes, usually so adept at observation, seemed to capture every nuance--the graceful sway of her hips, the faint scent of her perfume. It was a gaze that missed no detail, yet the depth of his focus was unusual, a quiet deviation from his usual professional detachment.

Spencer, usually lost in thought, his mind a labyrinth of facts and theories. But now, his attention was undeniably on Evelyn. His eyes held an analytical sharpness to them, but this time they held a different kind of curiosity, one that lingered on the ample flesh of her chest.

Evelyn, caught in the crossfire of their stares, felt a blush ignite her freckled cheeks.

JJ's curiosity piqued, and she leaned forward, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Oh, a friend?" Her voice was light, but the twinkle in her eye suggested she was fishing for a story colorful than just a casual catch-up.

Hotch's brows lifted almost imperceptibly. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of something unfamiliar flickered across his features--a tightness around his eyes, a slight downturn of his mouth. It was a sensation he couldn't place, an odd twinge that gnawed at this composure. He quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality, but the momentary lapse did not go unnoticed.

Spencer, on the other hand, was less adept at masking his reaction. His eyes, usually so full of thought, now reflected a clear disturbance, as if the mere suggestion of Evelyn being on a date had disrupted the very logic he held dear. His gaze lingered on her just a beat too long.

Evelyn's laughter was light, a clear note that brushed away any hint of scandal. "No, an actual friend. She's in from LA," she clarified, her tone breezy and unconcerned, dispelling the playful suspicions with a wave of her hand.

The room settled back into routine as JJ's gaze landed on Hotch, who appeared adrift in thought. "Hotch?" she called out, her voice a gentle tether pulling him back to the present.

Hotch cleared his throat, a stark interruption to the silence, a clear sign he was wrenching himself from the distraction. "Sorry, right," he stammered, a falter in his usually unwavering voice. His eyes, which had been tracing the contours of Evelyn's form, snapped back to the case file with a newfound intensity. "Let's get started..."

--

Evelyn stepped out of the bathroom, hastily adjusting her blouse. In her rush, she didn't notice Spencer standing right outside the door. With a sudden thud, their bodies met in an awkward tangle. Evelyn's hands flew up in surprise, grazing Spencer's chest as she steadied herself.

"Oh! Sorry, Spence," she exclaimed with a bright smile.

Spencer, equally taken aback, managed a flustered smile. "You're fine," he assured her, his voice a notch higher than usual as he stepped into the bathroom, his gaze lingering just a moment longer on the disarray of her attire.

Evelyn, straightened up, smoothing her clothes once more before taking a deep breath and heading back to her step.

Evelyn took in the sight of her team, already gathered and poised for the briefing. With a subtle clearing of her throat, JJ commanded attention, her fingers deftly pressing the remote. A soft click echoed in the hushed room as the screen flickered to life.

"Alright, team, we have a situation in Rapid City. Two children, siblings aged 7 and 9, were taken from their backyard near Sheridan Lake Road. The unsub left a clown mask at the scene. Local PD found an abandoned car three blocks away with candy wrappers and a handwritten note saying, 'Let's play a game'. We need to establish a profile and find these kids before the unsub escalates."

Hotch's voice was firm, his orders clear as the team prepared for landing, Reid emerging from the bathroom as he spoke. "Reid, Gideon, once we're on the ground, I want you two to head to the last known location of the children. Look for anything the local PD might have missed. After that, go to the local police station and assist them with victimology."

Hotch's phone rings. He answers with a curt. "Hotchner," and listens intently. The team watches him, reading the shift in expression as he receives the update from the local PD.

He ends the call. "The local PD has a lead. A performer known for his clown acts at children's parties was just taken into custody. They found evidence linking him to the abduction site. So change of plans. Reid, Evelyn, you're with me. We're going to interrogate the suspect. The rest of you, coordinate with the local teams. We need to cover all his known locations and find those kids."

--

The BAU's SUV glides to a stop in front of a local police station, a low building that seems to buzz with the day's frenetic energy. Hotch, with his characteristic stride, escorts Evelyn and Reid through the maze of bustling officers and ringing phones to a briefing room. The room is a testament to the case at hand; walls plastered with maps, timelines, and the faces of the missing children staring back at them. Hotch distributes the case files--thick filled with witness statements and background checks.

"Here's everything we have on the suspect," Hotch begins, "Known as 'Pogo the Clown' at parties, real name Jeffery Willis. No prior record of violence, but plenty of complaints about his behavior around kids."

Evelyn flips through the pages, absorbing the details. Hotch pivots towards her, his gaze steady and assessing, "Evelyn, you're new, but you've got a fresh perspective. That's valuable. Reid will take the lead, but I want you to watch the suspect. Look for inconsistencies in his story, any sign of deception."

Reid nods, his eyes already scanning the suspect's history. "We'll start with a cognitive interview, try to unlock any repressed memories or details he's not consciously aware of. It's a technique we use to get past the lies."

Hotch explains further. "Willis, he's got an ego, sees himself as a performer, above others. He's likely to underestimate both of you."

"Reid, he'll see you as harmless, someone he can easily outmaneuver. And Evelyn, he might dismiss your authority due to his preconceptions. But he's wrong, and that gives us leverage. Use his biases against him. Make him feel superior; it'll make him talk. He'll want to boast, to prove he's the smartest in the room. That's when he'll slip up."

Reid moves with a purposeful stride, his silhouette cutting through the dimly lit corridor towards the interrogation room. The gears in his mind turn swiftly, already sifting through the myriad of psychological strategies that might give him an edge. Evelyn started to trail behind him, her footsteps a soft echo to his confident march.

Hotch emerges before her, a figure of quiet authority. He positions himself before Evelyn, an unspoken barrier, his expression etched with a gentle concern that belies his firm stance. "Evelyn," he begins, his voice a low thrum, "this isn't going to be an easy interrogation. Willis is a performer; he thrives on attention and control. I need to know you're ready for this."

"I've trained for this. I've got this, Hotch," she lifts her chin, her gaze ascending to meet his.

Hotch regards her intently, his scrutiny thorough as if he could peel back the layers of her resolve. Yet, he finds no fissure of doubt. He grants her a slow, affirming nod. "Alright," he concedes, his voice a low rumble. "Remember, he's going to try and get under your skin, to throw you off balance." His proximity is close, almost invasive, but she didn't feel that way. "Stay focused and use his arrogance to your advantage."

Evelyn's head tilts up a fraction more, her eyes never leaving his. She nods. "I will."

Hotch's approval comes not just in a nod but in the subtle relaxation of his posture, a silent concession of her capability. He steps aside. As she passes, the air seems to hum with the vanishing of his body heat.

The interrogation room is stark, illuminated only by the unforgiving glow of overhead lights that cast long, dramatic shadows across the room. Jeffrey Willis is a disconcerting figure at the metal table, his clown makeup running in haphazard streaks, giving him a grotesque appearance. His eyes dart about, betraying a nervous energy as his leg trembles rhythmically beneath the table.

Reid steps into the room with an air of composed assurance, his intellect a sharpened blade ready to dissect the situation. Evelyn follows, her silhouette rigid against the doorway, her expression meticulously neutral. They take their seats, Reid assuming the lead with a gaze that never wavers from Willis.

"Jeffery, I'm Special Agent Reid, and this is Special Agent Gideon," Reid begins, his voice steady, "We're with the FBI, the behavioral analysis unit. We're here to talk about the children."

Willis' response is a smirk, his eyes alight with a disturbing spark of amusement. "Ah, the children," he drawls, a perverse delight curling the edges of his words. "They do so enjoy their games, don't they? High stakes make it all the more thrilling." His gaze shifts to Evelyn, taunting. "Isn't that right, sweetie? Or do they not trust you to speak?"

Evelyn's silence is her armor, her stillness a counter to his provocation. Beside her, Reid's jaw sets, a subtle clench that speaks volumes of his restraint. "Let's keep the focus where it belongs, Jeffery," he directs firmly.

"You ever been to the carnival? I used to love it. The toys, the sound of the water," Willis mused, leaning back as if the metal chair could transport him.

His chuckle breaks the reverie. "My mother, she loved games too," he continues, the smirk returning as he locks eyes with Evelyn. "The best ones, until she disappeared when I was sixteen." His gaze is probing, challenging. "But you, with a face like yours, life must've been easy, huh? Everything handed to you on a silver platter."

Evelyn's reaction is subtle, a slight narrowing of the eyes that betrays a flicker of emotion. Yet, she holds her silence, allowing Reid to handle the waters of Willis' provocations.

Willis edges closer, the space between them charged with his malice. "Or perhaps," he hisses, the words laced with spite, "mommy get sick of the guys giving you more attention than her?"

It's a low blow, one that slices through the air and lands precisely where he intended. Evelyn's facade falters, a minute shift, but it's there. "My mother is irrelevant to this," she retorts, her tone sharper, icier than she means for it to be.

From his vantage point behind the one-way mirror, Hotch catches the fleeting lapse. With a swift stride, he's in the room, his presence commanding. "Agent Gideon, a word," he commands, his voice leaving now room for argument.

Evelyn rises, her gaze lingering on Willis with a silent challenge before she pivots, her heels clicking a sharp retreat. She steps out, the chill of the corridor seeping into her bones, but it's the weight of Willis's words and her own slip that sends a shiver down her spine.

"Hotch, I--" she starts, her voice barely above a whisper, but Hotch is already there, his presence a wall of contained frustration.

"Agent," he interjects, his tone clipped, the word a reprimand in itself. "What did I say about maintaining control?" His proximity is unsettling, the heat of his frustration palpable, yet it's the closeness that somehow steadies her, sends a shiver down her spine, causing her thighs to clench together.

"I'm aware, and I apologize. It won't happen again," Evelyn responds, her words tumbling out in haste, her apology laced with urgency as she seeks to convey the clue Willis unwittingly dropped. "But I--"

Hotch is relentless, his words slicing through her attempts. "We can't afford distractions. There are two children out there; focus is imperative--"

"But the carnival," Evelyn cut in, her voice firm despite the brief hesitation, aware she's overstepping driven by instinct. "I'm sorry, but he talked about a carnival his mother would take him to. Have there been any carnivals in town lately."

For a moment, Hotch's stern facade falters, his eyes softening, betraying a flicker of curiosity. "Check with Garcia," he concedes, his voice still firm but the edge blunted.

--

Garcia's sanctuary of screens cast a soft glow in the dim room, her fingers a blur as they dance across the keyboard. "Nothing," she breathes out, the word laced with a tinge of defeat. "No carnivals, fairs, or anything similar within a 50-mile radius."

Reid's voice filters through the phone, tinged with concern as he leans in close over Evelyn's shoulder, almost whispering. "Did he grow up here? Maybe there's a connection to his past."

A pause, then Garcia's voice, distant yet clear. "No, grew up in a small town in Ohio--Millersport, near Buckeye Lake."

Reid's mind races. "Carnivals? Anything of the sort there?" he presses, hopeful.

The clacking of keys halts, a momentary silence before Garcia's voice returns, tinged with resignation. "It's a dead end. No recent events, nothing."

Evelyn chimes in. "He mentioned the sound of water, didn't he? It was deliberate, specific. Maybe it's less about an actual carnival and more about a place that felt like one to him."

A collective pause blankets the team. Garcia resumed her search. "Got something," she announces, a triumphant lilt to her voice. "An old cotton mill, nestled rise beside--get this--a carnival supply shop. It's about ten minutes from you guys."

"And here's the icing on the cake," Garcia continues, "his mother, Reyna Willis, was employed there. I'm sending you guys the address now."

--

The BAU team arrives at the desolate cotton mill, its dilapidated structure casting an ominous shadow in the fading light. Evelyn's heart pounds against her ribs, fear etched on her face. They move cautiously, guns drawn, the silence punctuated only by the soft crunch.

"Stay sharp." Hotch's command is a low murmur.

Evelyn nods at Hotch's words, paired with Morgan, as they make their way through the creaking corridors. The air is thick with dust. Room by room, they clear the mill, the tension mounting with each passing second.

Then, a soft whimper breaks the silence. Evelyn's head snaps towards the sound, her training taking over. She signals Morgan and approaches the door. With a gentle push, it swings open, revealing a small, frightened girl, nestled in the shadows.

Evelyn holsters her weapon, her stance softening as she kneels to the child's level. "Hey, it's okay, you're safe now," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm as the child curls into her side, her sobs muffled against Evelyn's shoulder, "you've been so brave."

"In here!" Morgan's call, firm and clear, cuts through the hush.

Hotch and Reid rush in, relief flooding their faces as they take in the scene. Meanwhile the sound of a relieved shout echoes through the mill. "We've got him! The boy's here!" Prentiss calls out from another room.

--

As the team wraps up the case, Hotch finds himself inadvertently watching Evelyn. She's a picture of compassion, the child in her arms so natural. There's something about this scene that stirs a warmth within him, an unfamiliar flutter that he can't quite place but pushes to the back of his mind.

He's always known she'd be good at this job, but this is different. It's hard to teach that. The way her eyes soften, the gentle tilt of her head as she whispers reassurances. It's a side of her he hasn't seen yet, one that didn't fit into the neat compartments of his professional demeanor.

Hotch feels a pull, an inexplicable draw to the tenderness she exudes. It's disconcerting, this reaction--like a chord struck deep within him. He watches her, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a halo around her silhouette.

He clears his throat, stepping closer, the gravel beneath his feet a subtle announcement of his approach. "We're about to head out," he says, his voice steady and low, not wanting to disturb the girl, her eyes fluttering in sleep.

Evelyn looks up, her eyes reflecting the last rays of the day. "I'll stay with until her parents arrive, if that's okay," she responds, her voice a low whisper. "She just fell asleep; I don't want to wake her."

Hotch nods, understanding her decision without a word. "We'll see you back at the jet, then," he says.

Evelyn smiles. "I'll be there," she assures him, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary before returning to the child in her arms.

--

The cabin lights flicker, a soft glow against the encroaching darkness outside. Evelyn rises from her seat, navigating the narrow aisle with a practiced ease. Evelyn is suddenly caught off guard by an unexpected jolt of turbulence. She lurches forward, her balance betraying her, and without warning she finds herself tumbling into Reid's lap. Her ass landed on his crotch as her lips fell open in surprise. He let out a soft groan, his hands instinctively reaching out to stabilize her. The rest of the team, deep in slumber, remained oblivious to the sudden closeness between the two.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Reid asked, his voice rising in pitch as his fingers dug into her hips.

Evelyn's breath hitches, her heart racing from the fall, the warmth of his hands, and the feeling of his crotch pressed firmly against her backside. She let out a giggle in an attempt to shake the feeling. "Gosh, sorry, Reid," she stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

For a moment, they are both still, the silence enveloping them, their eyes locked in a gaze that speaks volumes more than the words could. Then, as quickly as the moment came, it passed. Evelyn carefully extricates herself from his lap, her movements hurried, eager to put some distance between them.

next

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

[slutouttanowhere]

Tatted | J. Uso

paring: jey uso x mavis pete (my oc)

authors note: this is a wip that’s been sitting in my docs for months, I had bigger plans for it at the time, but it seems like that’s just not happening. ive been desperate to post something lol, so I hope y’all still enjoy this regardless.

Mavis finally had a weekend off, being a full time college student, while working a 9-5 is hell on wheels. Today she decided to treat herself by going out, splurging at the mall, and finally getting that tattoo she had been putting off for a month now. She didn’t know much about the place, Just that Liv and Rhea highly recommend it. “Mmm looks like nobody’s here…there’s a car out back.” She mumbled to herself, she pushed the door, and sure enough it was unlocked. There was a guy sitting at the front desk, his hair was dyed red on the tips, and shaved up the sides into a Mohawk. He lifted his head upon her entering, Mavis bit her bottom lip, they didn’t tell me this man was fine as hell, she thought to herself.

“How can I help you?”

“Umm I was told y’all take walk-ins?” She asked, a little unsure with the information her two best friends had given her. He stood up from his seat revealing that he himself was covered in tattoos. His arms were covered from his wrist all the way to his shoulders in something she recognized as tribal tattoos from her cousin.

“Depends on who told you that.”

Mavis couldn’t help but roll her eyes, she quickly lost her patience. “If I told you the boogie man would you believe me?”

“No, because the boogie man not real, now you’re a liar.”

“Boy! Do you take walk ins or not?” She snapped at him, her hand on her hip, and her other arm occupied by her purse. The mysterious tattooed man eyed Mavis up and down taking her in.

“Depends on who told you that.” He repeated again, this time speaking slower.

“Ugh, my friends from work did, what does that matter?”

“What’s their name?” He asked, Mavis paused for a second, she could have replied with a smart answer, but she didn’t feel like standing there and arguing any longer.

“Ugh, Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan, you know them or something?

“Liv and Rhea? Why didn’t you just say that, c’mon back.” He smiled brightly showing his gold and diamond grillz, his had did a complete one eighty as if his attitude from earlier never desisted

Mavis didn’t argue, she figured if he knew her girls, and her girls knew him there’s nothing to worry about. Her eyes wandered around the room as he got things set up, it’s not like she hasn’t been to a tattoo show before, she has her own tattoo lady back in Huston. “My name is Joshua, but you can call me Jey, what can I do for you sweetheart?” He asked sweetly, he sat on a stool across from her, his gaze focused.

“I'm Mavis.” She grew quiet suddenly feeling shy, she crossed one leg over the other, then pulled out her phone. “I was actually trying to decide between these three, but I couldn’t decide.” She admitted sheepishly, she felt bad for not coming with a definitive choice, but that’s what happens when you procrastinate.

Jey scooted closer to me, “Show me what you got.” His eyes watched Mavis as she scrolled through her phone, he couldn’t help but linger on her mouth as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Her long, curly, honey-blonde hair looked like a lion's mane the way it fanned out around her head, and framed her face.

“Okay so there’s this one, it’s from this anime, Naruto—

“That’s the one.” Jey said confidently, he nodded his head approving the choice immediately. He grinned seeing the confusion on Mavis’ face, Jey’s been tattooing for fifteen plus years, and he's good at matching art pieces to his clients.

“But you haven’t even seen the other two.” She argued lightheartedly, ever so the overthinker, Mavis didn’t wanna ink something on her body that she’d regret later.

Jey’s voice cut through the noise in her head, “trust me, your body shape is perfect for something like this.” He insisted as he eyes trailed over the soft curves of the space between her rib cage, and hips. She came dressed for the occasion in a cropped top that stopped a few inches below her chest, the rest of her torso was exposed.

Mavis thought about it for a moment, then Liv and Rhea popped into her head, well Liv and Rhea’s been going to him for a while so since they trust him…she thought to herself. A feeling of excitement washed over her, “okay let’s do it.” She clapped excitedly, and automatically went to lay down on bed on her back.

[missvelvetsstuff]

The Wrong One

Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader met Steve while he was on the run and stuck by him through everything. Until he saw Peggy Carter again.

6. Real Life

Warnings: swearing, angst

A few months after she left the compound Y/N was settled into her Queens brownstone that Pepper helped her buy. They had kept in touch but Y/N made Pepper promise not to tell Steve, Bucky or Sam because she knew that the first would find out if the latter two did. Pepper and Morgan were all that she had now, except for the life quickly growing inside her.

Helen Cho was her doctor since the baby was half super soldier and she had experience with the enhanced.

Y/N looked like she was near term even though she was only 5 months and they were expecting to have to perform a c-section well before her 9th month.

Y/N went to her favorite ice cream parlor in Brooklyn, annoyed that it was their only shop. Steve had taken her there many times when they lived in the compound and while the memories made her sad, she'd been craving their ice cream for weeks and couldn't stand it any more. She tried other brands but none of them lived up to this shop. Unfortunately she was too far away to have it delivered so  decided to take the train instead of dealing with traffic and parking. At least it was mid day so the subway wasn't too crowded and she was able to sit comfortably.

When the train made it to her stop she slowly climbed the stairs up to the sidewalk and stopped for a minute to catch her breath then went 2 blocks to her destination.

The owner welcomed her back, made a cone for her to sit and enjoy while they packed her half a gallon of their ultra chocolate decadence, into her insulated bag. They chatted for a bit about nothing important until some customers came in and they said goodbye.

When Y/N stood up to leave she grabbed her purse and her ice cream then turned around and bumped into something solid. She felt strong hands hold her upper arms to steady her. One of those hands was cooler than the other but it took her a minute to process that.

She shook her head "I'm so sorry, fuck." Mumbling "so damn clumsy anymore, I-"

"Y/N?"

She jumped hearing her name in a familiar voice, then cussed softly "fuck." and cleared her throat, forcing a strained smile before she looked at him

"Hi Bucky, how have you been?"

Bucky nodded "I've been good." He looked her obviously pregnant body over, then looked her in the eyes with his brow raised questioningly "So, uh, what's new?" He chuckled

She felt her face heat up "Oh, you know just had a craving so had to run to my favorite ice cream shop. He used to bring me here."

"Yeah, it's still owned by the same family we knew as kids." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably

"You know, He still talks about you a lot. Keeps asking me to bring you to visit but yeah." He smiled sadly at her "You changed your number?"

"I'm sorry Bucky, I know he's your friend but I really don't want to talk to or about him." She sighed "I needed some space."

"I understand but is it his?"

She snapped at him "She is mine. He made his choice to desert me. To be nothing more than a sperm donor." She took a deep breath and fixed her smile "I need to get home before my ice cream melts."

She sighed "I'd rather you didn't mention that you saw me to Steve but I know that's unlikely. I know you guys can probably get my information with a couple of key strokes but before you do please consider that I left and changed my number so maybe some respect for what I want or need is called for. See you around Barnes."

Bucky felt awful for what she was going through, all alone. He just stood there watching her walk away, admiring her curves. He didn't understand how Steve could leave a woman like that, even without a kid, but Steve was never logical when it came to Peggy Carter.

Bucky knew he probably shouldn't but looked her up and checked out the neighborhood where she lived. He told himself that it was just because Steve asked him to keep an eye on her, that he just wanted her to be safe and happy but he knew better. He knew he should tell Steve, he knew his friend had a right to know Y/N was pregnant with his kid but was conflicted. She had been through enough thanks to Steve and Bucky didn't want to be one more person who betrayed or left her.

Bucky had been jealous of the woman Steve was always talking about on the phone, when Bucky was still in Wakanda.

He was a little in love with her based on Steve's descriptions alone. The stories of how she helped Steve after the Snap were heartwarming and Bucky wanted someone that made him feel that way.

Y/N had definitely made him feel some kind of way the day they met but with the fight that was barreling down at them he brushed it off so he could focus.

He was losing that focus.

A couple of weeks after Bucky saw Y/N he still hadn't figured it out and was aimlessly flipping channels when he came across the story about the new Captain America, holding the shield that Sam had 'retired' and thoughts of Y/N were pushed out by his anger.

While Bucky was arguing with Sam about the shield his phone rang, Steve. He sent it to voicemail and put the phone back in his pocket.

Sam looked at him "Steve?" Bucky nodded. Sam shook his head "Since when do you reject his calls?" Bucky shrugged.

Sam shook his head "Well, he's worried about you. Told me it's been more than 2 weeks since you spoke. So, what's going on?"

Bucky sighed "I saw Y/N. A couple of weeks ago."

Sam looked at him "And?"

Bucky huffed "And she asked me not to tell him. He asks about her every time I talk to him and I don't like lying to him." He paused, thinking.

"I get that you're trying to honor her wishes but just telling him you saw her and she's fine isn't a betrayal. She is fine, right?" Sam thought for a moment "Shit, she has a new boyfriend, doesn't she? Look man, it's great that you want to spare his feelings but he knew it would happen, he made his choice."

Bucky shook his head "No she doesn't have a boyfriend."

Sam raised his eyebrows and grinned "She got a girlfriend?"

Bucky scoffed "Jesus Sam are you 12? No she doesn't have a girlfriend. At least not that she told me about." He sighed "Look, just drop it."

Sam's smile fell "sorry man but you know you can talk to me if you need to. Anytime." He pushed a little "Like right now is good, I'm all ears because I-"

Bucky shook his head "She's pregnant ok! You just keep going until I want to hit you."

Sam's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped "What do you mean she's pregnant? How-. Is it?"

"I'm pretty sure you know how and yes, she said it's Steve's. She is Steve's."

"Buck, you gotta tell him. He has the right to know about his kid."

"Yeah and then Steve will stick his dumb ass into things and put her through more drama which is bad for her and the baby. We should just leave her alone."

He declared confidently when he wasn't sure he could do that.

He wanted to take care of her and her baby. Then get married and make more.

That thought hit him upside the head.

That's when he realized he was in love with her.

Y/N on the other hand had been in a near constant state of anxiety after seeing Bucky. If Steve found out she was pregnant he would try to force his way back in her life and if he pushed the issue no judge would rule against Captain America. She'd be lucky if she ever saw her baby again.

She started looking into moving somewhere else, somewhere far. She thought about going back to Ireland but he would think about it too.

After scouring the web for ideas she realized she couldn't go very far. Her baby could show up anytime now and she was a higher risk for complications with a super soldier baby. She needed to stay close to Helen Cho and Starks state of the art med bay.

After all those years moving about the world she was stuck here. At least for now. Even if Steve found out, she wasn't going to give up her baby, not without a fight.

Sam was stressed. Besides all the bullshit with the Flag Smashers and faux Captain America, he still wasn't sure what to do about what Bucky had told him.

He had plans to have lunch with Steve but didn't know how to get through that without Steve realizing he's hiding something.

A few hours later and Sam was pissed. At himself, one damn beer and he's spilling secrets like a mean girl.

Steve was angry too "What the Hell do you mean she's pregnant?" He shook his head "Doesn't matter if she is, can't be mine."

He thought for a minute "When did Bucky tell you?"

Sam looked away from Steve's accusing eyes "last week."

Steve clenched his fists "And when did Bucky see her?"

Sam sighed "a couple of weeks before that."

Steve's face hardened and his voice, cold "I want her contact information yesterday!"

Chapter 7

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.5

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change.

next chapter

“Tell me who you belong to.” She demanded, hand wrapping around your thigh, squeezing tight.

“You… I belong to you.” You could hardly speak but managed to get that much out between her hard licks. Tears of pain and pleasure started to form in your eyes.

“Say it! Who!” She shouted. “Who makes you feel this good?”

You moaned louder. “...mommy… only mommy fucks me this good…”

Your wife had your legs wrapped over her shoulders, licking and sucking as you moaned uncontrollably. Her fingers plunged inside you, as your soft, tight walls throbbed around her, as her fingers moved continuously on your clit, rubbing her tongue against it in tandem with her hand. Your body began quaking as you overcame your orgasm, screaming obscenities into the otherwise quiet room.

You inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath as you lifted your head from the bed to look at her. She was kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, face slick from your release, her cheeks a dark shaded crimson.

"Jesus... when you asked to come upstairs for a kiss, I didn't expect that..." you muttered, breathless and smiling.

-

Ellie was sat on the left side of the sofa, like she always did, her fingertips drumming lightly against the soft fabric of her black slacks. Louise, your couples therapist, sat adjacent to the couch, in her armchair tapping her fountain pen against a notebook. The two of them didn't share a word, save for greetings and awkward smiles of acknowledgment. Ellie glanced at the clock that sat on the wall and sighed, where were you?

It was now nearing 4, and you had agreed to meet Ellie at 3:30. Yet you still hadn’t arrived, to make matters worse your phone wasn’t going through which was strange, as you were always reachable.

"Mrs. Williams, I have a client coming in, in about" she looks at her watch and gazes back at her. "15 minutes, I'm always happy to reschedule" she smiles politely, as she gets up and walks to her desk.

"Sure, I apologise on behalf of my wife, I'm not sure what's going on" she says, as she rises from the couch then collects her coat.

"No need, she's a working woman again, we can't blame her" she smiles and walks Ellie to the door. She nods her goodbye as she exits the office, slightly glad she wouldn't have to sit through another session.

-

You were currently in the parking lot of a local bar, sat on the curb as Abby and Morgan, tried to fix your car. After finishing off work quite early, Abby had persuaded you into joining she and the rest of the team for drinks, seeing as you still had 1 hour before you and Ellie’s session you’d agreed reluctantly. After a single gin and tonic (to avoid going over the limit) you packed your things and bid the crew goodbye, but once you got to your car you realised you'd be stuck in this parking lot way longer than you'd like. To ensure Ellie didn't waste her time waiting for you, you quickly plucked your phone out of your purse only to find that it had died.

"So what exactly is wrong with it?" You ask, coming up behind Abby and Morgan who are stationed in front of the car with the hood popped open.

"Nothing, we've checked everything from the engine to the battery and it all seems to be okay, I'm not sure why it won't start" says Morgan as he scratches his head in thought.

"I think it's a problem with your key, the battery in it is dead so you're going to need an entirely new key... or do you have a spare?" Abby asks as she turns around to face you.

"Yeah, but it's at home" you reply.

"Well without that spare key, this car is not moving" Abby says, making you groan. This couldn't have come at a less convenient time. Ellie was either fuming or worried, you were hoping for the latter.

-

After your failure to show at todays counselling session, Ellie picked Lila up from Joel’s and went straight home. By now Lila was fully better and her irritability and clinging had thankfully come to a stop. That didn't mean she dropped the sass. Ellie prompted to make dinner, so when you returned, whenever that was, the three of you could eat together but Lila had other plans.

"No momma, tea party!" She yelled from the kitchen floor as she tugged on her legs. If she weren't her child, Ellie would've been tempted to step on her.

"No, I have to make dinner" her voice stern and decided, leading the child to roll her eyes, a habit she had very recently become accustomed to.

"Mean momma" she angrily toddles out of the kitchen with her pink and gold embellished tea cup, causing her to sigh and return her attention to the dinner she was trying to make.

-

Just when you thought your evening couldn't have gotten any worse, rain began pouring heavily. Morgan and Abby encouraged you to leave your car here for the night and have one of them take you home. Abby being more than willing to take you home, one could even say she was quite adamant. You didn't want to be stuck in the rainfall waiting for Ellie to pick you up and the short sleeved blouse and pencil skirt you sported didn't help so you accepted her offer.

"I've turned the heater on, I can see that you're freezing" She says as her hand strokes your thigh, for a lone second. You immediately shift uncomfortably at her advance. She knew you were married, she had met your wife and kid and yet her flirting never stopped. You whispered a quiet, “thank you” and kept your attention on your lap, as you played with your wedding band.

"Here, have this it seems the heater isn't working in your favour" Abby smiles at you, while reaching for a coat that was splayed on one of her backseats. You accept the offering not wanting to freeze, as you sink further into the warmth of the heated chair.

"Thank you, I'm not usually affected this much by the cold" you reassure her as you look outside the car window, lost in the buzz of traffic and the street lights of the cities boulevards.

"Well that's one thing we have in common” She simply smiles ahead, her eyes focused on the road. The car falls silent and you spend the rest of the ride sat in gentle silence.

-

"Where's mommy?" Lila has returned to the kitchen after giving her mother the silent treatment, in search for her other mother.

"I don't know baby, she's running late isn't she?" Ellie reaches down to pick her up when she hears a knock at the door.

"Mommy?" She questions, looking at Ellie in search for answers.

"Well let's go see if it is mommy" she states as she makes her way over to the foyer to get the door.

-

The doors to your home open and you are met with Ellie, who is stood in her usual band tee and a pair of sweatpants, with Lila sat in her arms. The first thing she notices is your freezing state and the oversized coat that clings to your body.

"Y/n, what the fuck happened are you okay?" Ellie questions as she hikes Lila higher and looks at you worriedly. Lila waves at you sweetly and you return the action making her smile.

"I'm so sorry I missed todays session, our team went for a drink and then my car wouldn't start so Abby was kind enough to drop me home" you say as you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

"Don't worry about that, come in you're freezing" Ellie ushers you into the house and immediately reaches for her phone, adjusting the home’s controls to turn the heat up.

"So what happened to your car?" She asks as she leads you to the kitchen and starts the kettle.

"I'm not entirely sure, you know I don't know shit about cars, but Abby thinks my key battery died" She looks at you as she drops a teabag of chamomile and stirs a small spoon of sugar into a large embellished teacup.

"Yeah, that shit happens you'll need to carry around your spare from here on out, I was worried" she says, placing the cup of tea on the island and leaning down for a kiss.

"I know I'm sorry, here can you put my phone in charge I'm just going to let Abby in, she needed to use our bathroom" you say as you place your cup down and make your way back outside. Ellie rolls her eyes, not wanting to be in the presence of that woman who so clearly wanted you.

"Hungry!" Lila whines and Ellie decides it's time she reheat the dinner she so graciously prepared.

-

"Still need to take a leak?" You question Abby through her rolled down window, she smiles and nods so you lead her into the house.

"You have a nice home" she observes the foyer in all its glory, the glossy orange hue from the midway entries, large vintage light piece glowing through her blue orbs.

“Thank you” you say, as you lead her further into the home.

-

"Abby, evening" Ellie says as she stands behind the island, a pot of spaghetti in hand, Lila is sat on a bar stool, colouring a rather hideous drawing she had made.

"Evening Ellie, sorry for disrupting your dinner but I have to use the restroom" Ellie nods and focuses back on what you're assuming was spaghetti and meatballs, one of very few meals she knew how to make. You show Abby to the bathroom and return to the kitchen.

"Did you cook, dinner?" You ask, coming behind Ellie who was grating a generous amount of cheese onto the meal. You wrap your arms around her waist, peppering kisses onto her neck and back.

"Yes, you know you’re not the only one who knows how to cook around here” she smirks as she plates some of it, opting to give Lila a smaller portion as her appetite was not quite as big as the two of yours.

"Mmmmmm, it smells really good, best way to end the night" you smile as you nuzzle further into her.

"Well there are better ways to end the night" she smiles, looking down at you and you know where this is going.

"Don't be dirty minded" you playfully smack her arm and she laughs at you. "Hey, to be fair you thought it" you can't help but push her again and then look to your left where Abby has now entered the kitchen.

"Oh Abby, everything alright?" You question as she straightens her suit and walks over to you.

"Yeah, thank you for your restroom, I'll be leaving now" she smiles.

"You can stay for dinner" you blurt out, unsure of where the idea had come from. Ellie physically tenses up at your words and turns to you.

"She can, since when?" She says out loud and you roll your eyes at her bluntness.

"It's fine Y/n I wouldn't want to impose, plus my cat is probably due a feeding" she waves off dismissing your invitation.

"Well I suppose another time then" you smile apologetically at her, embarrassed by Ellie’s behaviour. Abby simply nods. You expect her to make her way to the door when once again she walks up to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. Your body freezes up and you turn to gauge Ellie’s reaction.

"I'll see you out" Ellie spits through her teeth and you have to suppress a groan at the obvious strap off the two of them were having.

-

"What are your intentions with my wife?" Ellie asks as she and Abby walk through the halls towards the front door.

"Nothing, I find y/n to be a good friend, you’re lucky to have her" Abby says, trying to make Ellie feel small, or at-least that's what Ellie felt she was attempting. As she towered over her, smirking.

"Good, I'm glad you know your boundaries, just remember that she’s my wife, she belongs to me" they've made it to the door and Abby steps out of the house, Ellie’s left leaning on the frame of the front door, gazing at her with fury.

"Goodnight Ellie, pass my regards to y/n and Lila"

"I will" Ellie lowly spits, she attempts to close the door when Abby suddenly calls her name once more making her halt.

"By the way, tell y/n she can keep my coat for as long as she pleases" Abby is now smirking, as she walks away in the rain, making her way over to her car. Ellie wasn't sure what she was feeling but she sure as hell was seeing red, she was going to kill that motherfucker.

-

"Mmmm" Lila exclaims each time you feed her a mouthful of the spaghetti. Ever since the awkward encounter between Abby and Ellie, the two of you hadn't spoken a word to one another. You were upset that she couldn't be civil with your colleague, but also couldn’t blame her as Abby couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself. You however didn’t understand why Ellie was taking her anger out on you. It’s not like you were entertaining Abby’s advances.

"All done?" You question Lila and she nods, you pick her plate and yours up, place them in the dishwasher and pick up the messy child who was now covered in spaghetti sauce.

"Say Goodnight to momma" you tell her, as she was off to bed from here and you knew she took it very seriously whenever she didn't get to bid Ellie goodnight.

"G'night momma" she says as she leans down and places a kiss on Ellie’s cheek. She mutters goodnight to her daughter, placing a small kiss on her forehead and then proceeds to pack up the table.

After giving Lila a bath and settling the toddler in for the night, you head to your room, deciding it was about time you finally called it a day.

-

"I changed the sheets" Ellie mumbles as you enter the bed, fresh out the shower.

"Thanks" you mumble, as you reach into your bedside table to grab the book you were reading.

"Why did you have her coat on?" You hear her blurt abruptly as you are halfway through your page.

"What kind of question is that?" You now place the book on the side table and gaze at her.

"It's a question, now answer it"

"I know what your stupid question is insinuating Ellie, and I'm offended you would think that lowly of me" she shakes her head and sighs. Honestly you’d had a hell of a day, and weren’t in the mood for her accusations.

"This isn't about what I think of you, she fucking kisses you infront of me, she has no sense of boundaries. I don't trust her and I can tell from the way she acts around you that she wants to be more than friends and you're blind if you can't see that."

Her voice is calm and collected, she must've been utilising the tips Louise had given the two of you during your sessions, about settling conflicts.

"As my wife you should trust me enough to not worry when I'm in the company of those that you don't trust. To assume that I did anything with that woman is unfair and disrespectful" you counter.

"It's jus-"

"If we don't have trust we have nothing Ellie" tears begin to spill down your face and she can't help but feel guilty. You grab your book and phone and climb out of the bed, heading straight for the door.

"Y/n come back!" She urges, but you aren't hearing any of it and exit the room making your way to the guest room.

She felt like shit, she let her greed and selfishness push her into cheating. Not only was she doing that but she was pushing the paranoia she, herself manifested by her own cheating onto you. You didn't deserve this, any of this and she was running out of ways to make things better.

taglist:

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup

[railingsofsorrow]

chapter I | catharsis

summary: “Is there— is there something you need?” He's kind. He's so kind and his voice is better than she had ever imagined. 

All of all the things she could have said, what came out is something else entirely.

“Your hair is shorter.”

w.c: 3.4K

warnings/content: mentions of mass food poisoning; implied unhealthy relationships (it will be explored later); germaphobia; fluff.

A/N: WE'RE FINISHED WITH THE LETTERS! I was too excited to start writing the longer chapters with a detailed narrative. I know it took too long but.... here it is, I hope you enjoy! annnd, they finally meet!

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

whoever wants to be tagged for this fic, fill this out or dm me.

LETTERS — [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

CHAPTERS — [1] [2] [3] . . .

❝Catharsis❞

[n.] THE EXPERIENCE OF EXPRESSING STRONG EMOTIONS THAT PREVIOUSLY WERE BLOCKED.

━━━━━━━━━ ✉ ━━━━━━━━

“Don't even start, Reid.”

Spencer pursed his lips, shifting on the passenger seat. “I didn't say anything.”

Derek scoffed, “I can hear you thinking.”

“Thought broadcasting is a common phenomenon that happens when one thinks others can hear your thoughts. That is not physically possible. It actually might be a sign of paranoia—”

Derek groaned loudly, begging for the gods above that the traffic went easy on him for five minutes. He needed five minutes to get to the other Interstate. Five. Minutes. 

Spencer let out a snicker beside him, having too much fun in being correct as always. He had told Derek beforehand that the safest option would be to take the alternative route, even if that meant it was slightly longer than directly taking the I-95. They still would get to Norfolk University's Student Center faster. 

Derek didn't listen to him and here they were, stuck in traffic just as Spencer predicted. 

In some way, this was good. 

Spencer hated being late to anything, which was why he always double-checks the time so he can get to any place earlier, just to be sure. Just in case. That's him. A pragmatic guy. 

But when he heard where the next case was going to be, he backtracked a little. 

Spencer has been corresponding with Iris Valencia through letters for the entire month of October. It felt like more, maybe years. He knows that this feeling is quite common for people who had found some sort of connection. They have affinity. A bond, if you will. It explains the reason for your comfort after you've just met someone. You used to be strangers, but you realise they like blueberry muffins too and then you have a coffee date scheduled in the afternoon. It is that simple, sometimes. 

Spencer could never relate to that. Well, at least, not before Iris. Although he has never invited her over for coffee and they haven't spoken in person yet. 

Yet.

But it felt like it. It felt like he has known her for a long time.

The case was in Norfolk University, 165,7 miles from Quantico. The place Iris worked as a microbiology professor and which she described that her whole department fell sick because of a supposed food poisoning. 

That hasn't been the first time a university has had that kind of situation. As she mentioned in one of her letters, the Old Dominion University — another university located in Norfolk — was also on the news about food poisoning. The difference was that it had been only a small group of students that suffered the outcome. NSU had it worst, a large group of people had to be sent to the E.R. 

The BAU was called in because of recent deaths in the area. When they eventually connected it to the food poisoning cases happening in the universities, Hotch divided the team into pairs to cover more ground. The suspect list was narrowed down to three students from Norfolk State University. 

“What did you say?” 

“You and Morgan are off to the M.E's office.” Hotch repeated as they left the precinct. 

“You're going to Norfolk State University?” Spencer asked a little dumbfounded. Derek gave him a confused look. 

Hotch halted beside the car door, the crease between his brows deepening. “That's where our first victim lived... Reid, are you alright?”

That finally seemed to be the minute Spencer snapped out of it. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yes, sorry. I was just making sure. We'll— we'll go now.”

He felt like a thirteen-year-old boy with his first crush. The accelerated heartbeat, the shaky limbs, the sweaty palms. The not knowing what to do and mostly, what Emily always teased him about and what he only recently noticed: his IQ is, in deed, slashed to half when he's attracted to someone. 

Spencer had not met Iris yet. But he felt all of those things. Through letters. For the first time in his life he couldn't find a scientific explanation for what he was currently feeling. He hadn’t met her, he hadn't seen her, let alone heard her voice. He's only seen her delicate handwriting with her t's curved at the base and her barely noticeable s's and he was quickly roped to her personality. What Iris shared with him so far, that is. 

Spencer studied people for a living. That's a quick way of putting his occupation. He investigated behavior and he entered minds that were just as twisted as the crimes they committed. Some cases stay glued on his brain more than others — it's not like he was able to forget anything, although sometimes he wished he could.

Iris had interested him more than any quantum physics book ever could. 

Spencer knows she likes birds. That's one of the first things she shared with him, actually. He also knows that her favorite author is Haruki Murakami and Spencer has read all of her recommendations, he even bought more books besides the ones she mentioned. He knows Iris hates loud noises, clowns and that she takes her coffee black and plain. He knows how much she cares about her students and that she probably loves what she does because of the way she writes about it. He knows that she doesn't believe in magic, but he's determined to change her mind. 

To Spencer, Iris was like a book. He had no idea what the cover was like and he had not read the synopsis, but from the first page and on, he decided he wanted to know everything there is to know about the story. He wanted to see if there were small notes at the edges of every page or if there were underlined quotes. He wanted to figure out the mystery before the next chapter arrived, even if the ending might be completely different. 

He had come to terms with the fact that he wants to meet her in person for a while now. But Spencer didn't plan when that would happen or if it would happen. He doesn't even know if she would want to meet him. 

Now, he was walking into the University she worked at with her letter tucked into his satchel bag as he forced his brain to focus on what was supposed to be focusing on: the case. 

"Finally." Emily raised a brow as they walked into the room. According to JJ's message an hour ago, they were talking to the Head of the Biology Department because of a lead on one of the suspects. Hotch and Rossi were speaking with Penelope through the speakerphone in a corner of the room. "Took you long enough." 

Spencer shrugged at her jab, pointing at Derek. "I told him, he didn't listen." He was softly shoved in response.

"Shut up, Reid." 

"We're waiting for Mark Dawson to come back with a professor who supposedly has some information on Meredith Fitz." JJ clarified before Spencer could question her why they were all reunited in a professor's office. "They're all in class, we don't want to raise too much attention." 

"Sorry to keep you all waiting." 

A blond man walked into the room with a brunette woman on his trail. He was dressed in a color-coordinated attire, a russet dress shirt with slightly darker khaki pants. A complete contrast with the woman beside him, she wore light blue jeans along with a maroon V-neck sweater vest and a white t-shirt below. Her hair was in a loose bun but some thick curls were falling off. She was tucking them behind her ear constantly. 

Spencer noticed she seemed annoyed. 

"This is Doctor Valencia, she's our microbiology professor. Meredith is one of her students." 

Valencia? As in—

"I can speak for myself." Dr. Valencia said through gritted teeth, shaking hands with every agent. Spencer was too busy sweating like crazy in nervousness to take notice of Emily's and JJ's pointed gaze exchange after the professor's harsh statement towards Professor Dawson. "It's good to meet you, Agents, but I spoke to the police last night, I already gave my formal statement regarding the occurrences of the last week." 

The last person to be introduced was him. 

He heard something that sounded distinctly like a choked-up sound. He didn't pay much attention until Hotch started conducting questions regarding the case. Because that was what he was focusing on, the case. His hands tingling as she drew hers back, barely giving him a look. 

"The FBI?" Iris blinked in surprise. Only now did she seem to really acknowledge everyone in the room. Her shoulders tensed up. "So that wasn't just accidental food poisoning." 

"We're investigating that," Hotch said, being vague on purpose. "It came to our knowledge that Meredith Fitz is one of your mentees?"

Iris nodded, running a hand through her face. "Yes, yes, she is. Meredith is, um, completing her master's degree in post-mortem microbiology."

"Does she have access to your lab?" 

"All of my students have," Iris said. "We have practical classes." She visibly stiffened. "Is she a suspect?"

“We're looking into it,” Hotch responded.

Iris stepped out of her frozen state, interrupting another question being thrown her away.

“This isn't— This isn't right.” She begun. “Meredith is one of my top students. She's a nice girl, she wouldn't do this.”

Emily nodded sympathetic, “as he said, we are still investigating that information. But we do need to speak with her so that can be clarified.” Before Iris could speak, Mark beat her to it.

“She didn't come to class today, so that won't be possible, will it?” Mark sent a look towards Iris that anyone in the room could read it as a pretty clear insinuation. Iris wasn't paying attention to him, she was lost in her thoughts, gaze focused on a corner of the room. 

Spencer was itching to say something, but he stood quiet.

“Neither did Fabian Helley. Another top student of Dr. Valencia here.” He added, leaning back on his desk. “You know, maybe you should investigate this particular pattern.”

Derek let out a sigh. He was done with Dawson's little game. It was clear that the guy was trying to antagonize Iris. 

“Sir—”

“Please stop.” 

Every eye in the room snapped towards her voice. Iris clutched the back of her arm as if she was trying to give herself some form of grounding. Spencer could see how much she cared for each one of her students. He's read about it, it's all in her letters, but even his coworkers who didn't have that bonus glimpse into her character could tell that. 

They could also tell she was greatly bothered by Mark Dawson. And Spencer himself was starting to get bothered by him as well.

“I'll answer your questions and anything else in my office. Is that okay with you?” 

Nobody protested against that and Mark stood by his desk, arms crossed much like a petulant child. They followed Iris towards her office while exchanging curious glances. She did answer all of their questions, hesitating slightly whenever the questions were directed towards Meredith Fitz and Fabian Helley, mostly because she did not believe they could have done such a monstrosity as mass poisoning.

“What happened to being a germaphobe, pretty Ricky?” Derek nudged his shoulder, earning a confused look from Spencer. “You shook the professor's hand. Not a single complaint as always.”

“I was being polite.” His cheeks were burning. Did he shake her hand? Thankfully she wasn’t close enough to listen to their conversation.

Derek disguised a chuckle by soft coughing and Spencer glared at him.

"I'd like to apologize about Professor Dawson. He's been on edge ever since all this started." Iris informed as Rossi and Hotch left the room to call Garcia. 

"We can see that," Emily smiled reassuringly at her. "If you don't mind me asking, is there a particular reason why he seemed displeased about Fabian Helley?" Iris shifted on her feet and everyone else in the room pretended they were not listening in on the conversation since Emily had approached her in a rather private manner.

Still, Iris did not relent. 

"Mark is always displeased by something or someone." It was the last thing she decided to share after pondering to herself. 

It wasn't until Hotch came back into the room to send each of them to interview a few other witnesses — except for Spencer, who he requested to start the geographical profile since they had enough cases as of now – that Iris seemed to glance in Spencer's direction.

Dr. Reid, who she shook hands with and didn't even properly notice until now. Iris was generally a perceptive person, she caught things quickly. Though she's having trouble focusing ever since this morning, perks of a bad night's sleep. She blamed that for not realising him sooner, that was the only possible explanation, really. His honey-brown eyes switched to his colleagues as soon as she caught him looking. 

Iris’ breath caught in her throat. The Behaviour Analysis Unit is here. Spencer mentioned in one of his letters that he works for the FBI... She truly was slow today, wasn't she? 

“Dr. Valencia?” 

She snaps out of her daze to stare at a pretty blonde woman in a dark blazer, she wore a blue t-shirt below. Agent Jareau. That's her name.

“Sorry,” Iris cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks heat up at being caught staring at him. She must look like such a creep. “I zoned out. Were you speaking to me?”

She offers her a sympathetic smile before saying, “we don't want to take much of your time. We know you have lectures to teach. Thank you for your patience.”

“No need to thank me, Agent. It's all good.” Just as each of them gave her their farewells, she was stuck in an inner argument about whether or not she should talk to him. It's not appropriate. He didn't even recognize you, wake up.

Not appropriate. Not appropriate. NOT APPROPRIATE.

“Uh, Dr. Reid?” It was barely above a whisper as if she had been scared of saying it too loud. His body turning around fast was the indication she needed that he had heard her. Thankfully, his team was a little further down the hall to notice the small exchange. “Sorry, I don't mean to get in your way—”

She's completely awkward all of a sudden. Iris couldn't grasp her mind that she's been talking to this man for over a month, flirting, trauma bonding and now she couldn’t utter a word without sounding like she didn’t know a word in the English language.

“Is there— is there something you need?” He's kind. He's so kind and his voice is better than she had ever imagined. 

All of all the things she could have said, what came out is something else entirely.

“Your hair is shorter.”

Well, fuck, Iris. Congratulations, you have officially made a fool out of yourself!

“I did not intend to say that out loud, I am so so sorry, Spenc— Dr. Reid. I just, I saw a picture of yours because of an article that I read and—”

“Iris.” 

“And I—” she froze, watching a smile grow on his lips, which immediately brought warmth to her chest. Somehow, it didn't feel as if he was laughing at her. If he was then it's a beautiful sight to uphold regardless. “Yes?”

“I thought you didn't recognize me.” Spencer bit the inside of his cheek, shifting on his feet. She observed the worn-out sneakers causing her lips to twitch in amusement. One of Iris's assumptions was that Spencer was the kind of guy to wear fancy shoes — it only made sense because of the way he dressed — but that surprised her. At least she’s not the profiler. “You know, we've only been corresponding through letters so I figured you wouldn't...”

Her lips parted in astonishment. “You recognized me?”

His brows furrowed slightly, “yes. Your name is literally on the case file.”

“Oh.”

His eyes softened at her widened eyes as she processed the information. And then his brain pinched him with the fact that that's not how we're supposed to meet. Not because of a case. I'm supposed to invite her for coffee just so I can certify if she actually takes her coffee plain black with barely any sugar on it. Or a library, so we can ramble together about our favourite authors and books. 

Not.in.the.middle.of.a.case.

“You probably have a whole file about me, huh?” Her tone was playful and Spencer remembered how he grinned whenever he read her sarcasm through paragraphs of her handwriting. He learned to find Iris's humor through her words. Seeing it displayed right in front of him, full of vivid colors and a voice he tried to imagine for so long what it was like... He's speechless and already addicted to it.

“Our technical analyst probably has.” Spencer croaked out, forcing himself to avert his gaze to his feet instead. 

Iris’s eyes acquired a spark of excitement. 

“Is that the one with the clingy hugs?”

Spencer let his mouth quirk up on the edges, “yes. That's Penelope.”

“So you know all of my dark secrets before we even share them to each other.” He could hear her playful tone that carried a bit of uncertainty in the end.

“I have no reason to read your file,” Spencer said. Because he didn't. Not unless she was an official suspect. “So no, I don't know about any of your dark secrets.”

“That's good. You won't run for the hills yet.”

“What makes you think I would ever run?”

Their gazes remain on each other for a brief moment until one of them eventually caved and looks away, necks reddening, heartbeat increasing.

“Call me Spencer.” He said, squeezing the strap of his work bag until his fingers turned white. His phone vibrating in his pocket alerted him he'd taken too much time talking and less time working. He didn't want to go. “I-uh, I've read your letter. Just in case you think I've been ignoring you... I haven't. I just haven't had the time to write you back properly.”

Iris tilted her head as she leaned against the wall. “Maybe you don't need to write me back.” What am I doing? She thinks.

He cast her a look of puzzlement before his disappointment could take over, Iris was quick to clarify what she meant. 

“Maybe we could talk instead of write.” She added carefully. Confidence wearing thin. “Over coffee? Not today, of course, you're working and I'm working and we wouldn't have time but... It's—It's a stupid idea, isn't it? I'm sorry. Pretend I didn't suggest—”

“I would love to talk instead of write.” Now that I can finally hear your voice, I can stop trying to image what you sounded like through your letters. I don't want to ever stop listening to you. 

Iris gave him a look of surprise as if she had been expecting rejection because that just might have been the most out-of-place idea she had. Asking Spencer Reid out on a date while he's in the middle of a case where she works? 

“You need to go.” She mused, giving a pointed look at the vibrating cell in his hands.

“As soon as the investigation is over.” He told her after they'd exchanged numbers through their phones. Iris nodded, smiling wildly as he took a few steps back to leave her office but still didn't quite leave.

“As soon as the investigation is over, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer halts, holding onto the doorway as if stopping himself from leaving  — or staying. She didn't know which.

“Call me Spencer.” He repeated, grabbing his phone to pick up the call. Slowly, a smile etched its way into her face and his mouth followed the same action. 

“Okay, Spencer.”

Spencer nodded, holding in a smile. “I have to go.” I don’t want to.

“Please do. I don't want the FBI locking me up because I held you against your will in my office.” A joke. He liked hearing her jokes instead of reading them. “Be careful.” She requested in a slightly more serious tone, just like she always wrote in her letters addressed to him. 

“You too,” he said, taking his time to look at her one last time before he had to sprint off to where Derek required him.

It was very nice seeing you, Iris.

━━━━━━━━━ ✉ ━━━━━━━━━

A/N: hey everyone, welcome to the next phase of SBPP. I'm excited. next chapter you'll have a deeper glimpse into iris' character and some things will come to light. i'd love to read what you guys are thinking of this fic!

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @chayceschultz ; @cultish-corner ; @lover-of-books-and-tea ; @theonecalledrue

[itsrheasgirl]

FORBIDDEN LOVE - PART 5

The Forbidden Love series follows a relationship between Rhea x Reader.

•

The Reader has a strong friendship with Liv Morgan.

•

Liv is in love with The Reader but hasn’t told them.

•

fem!reader - rhea x reader.

•

The door opened slowly as the convocation on the other side continued, the flutter of panic that resinated in your chest softened slightly as your gaze fell on Bianca Belair. A small sigh of relief parted your lips as your demeanor began to relax, a quick flash of a smile to Bianca caused her to return the soft grin. You couldn’t completely relax, whoever Bianca was talking to was about to walk through that door.. or so you thought. You watched as the door remained empty until it closed with a soft click, Bianca’s gaze flitting back and forth between you and Rhea before her lips pursed in question.

“You two okay?”

You weren’t even able to answer before Rhea spoke up.

“Yep.”

She snipped, coughing to clear her throat. Rhea’s gaze shifting to you swiftly as she stepped past Bianca, her dark lips curving into a cheeky grin as she shot you a wink before heading in the direction of the door. She really was testing you with all her little flirtations, was she simply playing with you or did last nights kiss mean something? Your lips accept the coy simper that claimed them, grateful for the fact Rhea had spoken up for you both. The less people that saw the two of you together the better, neither of you wanted your alone time getting back to Liv again.

“Oh.. o-kay.” Bianca quipped.

You allow a small laugh at the slight confusion on Bianca’s face, unable to stop the grin that plastered itself across your features as you try your best not to stare at Rhea’s ass as she heads towards the door, instead you turn round abruptly and plop back down in the chair you’d been waiting in only moments before. It was nearly match time and that’s where your focus needed to be.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She’s got this, she’s got this. Your subconscious repeated over and over as your heart rose in your throat, your stomach churning into knots as the tips of your fingers turned white from the monstrous grip you had on Priest’s forearm. Rhea had worked so hard over the passing months to prove herself, to show she deserved the title of women’s smackdown champion and to defeat Charlotte Flair at WrestleMania 39. Your palms beginning to sweat as Rhea’s final pin gave her victory.

You’re on your feet faster than most, the green room erupting with sound— Rhea’s name being chanted over and over by the crowd outside as the fellow members of the Judgement Day stood to cheer along side you.

“She did it! She won!”

Your arms flung around Priest’s waist as he stood beside you, the fear of her failure washing away as it sunk in. Rhea had gone and won the women’s smackdown championship title. She’d actually done it. Priest let out a throaty chuckle as he embraced you in a tight hug, a soft groan echoing from your chest as he squeezed you tighter.

“Okay…. Priest… can’t breathe.”

He released you instantly with another chuckle, his palm rubbing the top of your head and causing the soft curls that fell about your features to tangle.

“Yooo, not cool.”

You grumbled, folding your forearms across you’re chest and pouting your lips.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, you hadn’t taken your eyes off the screen, watching as the woman you cared for so deeply raised the championship belt above her head. The sound of the crowd could be heard through the entire arena, you couldn’t even begin to imagine the high Rhea found herself on but the joy in her ocean eyes was all you’d needed to feel it.

“Y/N, she’s coming.”

Priest shouted, your gaze finally leaving the tv to meet his. You wanted to be the first person she saw, for her to see the excitement on your face and for her to know just how proud of her you were, but you couldn’t do what you truly wanted. To give Rhea what she’d started the night before, a kiss filled with so much desire that you would have felt like the only people in the room.

You made your way over to Priest’s side, standing slightly behind him as you scooped your arm around his, patiently waiting for Rhea’s arrival. You were nervous, you couldn’t begin to think why. The match had ended just as you’d all wanted, Rhea Ripley was the new women’s smackdown champion. You could still hear the loud cheers of the crowd, no sign of it stopping. Had she even left the ring? Inhaling a small breath, you peek around Priest’s god like frame in attempts to see if you could peer through the black curtains that hung between the back stage and the arena. It was in that moment the curtains swung back to reveal a very ecstatic Rhea, her palm clutching tightly to her title belt.

You are the first person her gaze falls on as you step out from behind Priest’s gigantic frame, your eyes glistening with pride as she simply smiles at you. The sounds of her fellow wrestlers calling her name pulled her attention from you and your features falter, of course they were priority. As everyone began to crowd around Rhea you shuffle your way out through the mass of taller and muscular humans. Letting them surround their new champion, you swallow back your disappointment. You still hadn’t heard from Liv, maybe you could just return to the hotel and finally get that sleep you’d missed out on last night.

Hooking your thumbs into the front pockets of your jeans, you exhale a shallow breath. Weaving through the mass of people that continued to swarm in Rhea’s direction. She’d taken the women’s smackdown championship from fourteen time winner Charlotte Flair, how could people not want to congratulate her. You’d finally cleared the crowd, the exit in sight when you’re forced to come to a halt.

“Y/N!”

You stop in your tracks when you hear your name, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn to come face to face with Rhea. She was slightly out of breath, sweat clung to her skin, her black lipstick was smeared and yet she still looked breathtaking to you.

“Hey superstar.”

The smile that already claimed Rhea’s lips turned into a wider grin, a soft bubble of laughter breaking from her throat as she took in your words.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

She questioned, the authoritative tone in her voice causing you to nibble at the corner of your lip as you staggered to inhale a breath.

“Um— nowhere?”

She leaned in slightly, the warmth of her breath against the shell of your earlobe causing your palms to tremor. Her words were soft and almost whispered, heated against your ear as her free palm stretched out to rest upon your hip.

“My rental is in the parking lot.”

She didn’t pull back, her thumb grazing against the exposed flesh of your hipbone as you felt your temperature rise. Your heartbeat increasing and your palms beginning to sweat.

“Keys are in my bag.”

Her words were as soft as a kittens purr, her breath tickling against your ear and the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“Wait for me?”

She slipped past you without another word, giving you no chance to respond. Your exposed midriff was pimpled with goosebumps, the spot where her fingertips had danced tingling like fire and ice. Your eyes scan round the room to make sure no one had witnessed what just happened, glancing back to catch sight of Rhea as she disappeared to greet the line of awaiting reporters and interviews. She was the champ after all and duty called.

[aquariusdeanw]

I don’t care that you don’t watch sanremo.

that only means that you’ll never know the highs and lows of italian tv.

what do you know about the morgan changing the lyrics to insult his partner bugo whom left the stage, causing a global pandemic in 2020? About blanco destroying the flowers on the stage because his ear monitor didn’t work? About freddy mercury showing the audience that he was singing in playback? Ultimo throwing a tantrum over his second place? maneskin winning and inducing little girls to snort salt? Voilà? eminem avoiding italy for more than a decade after performing in sanremo? What do you know about the john travolta - duck dance - russel crowe diss? the pippo baudo - audience member fake suicide attempt? roberto benigni reciting the divine comedy at 2AM? what do you know about the dick-shaped balloon member in the audience of the empty ariston in 2021? The Emma police chase for fantasanremo? About the gianni morandi and bong joon-ho “in ginocchio da te” pics? What do you know about beppe vessicchio never ending conductor steak? About people falling off the stairs? And the iconic achille lauro cape off into the glittery leotard? Piero pelù stealing TWO purses from the audience members? The orchestra throwing their music sheets in the air because they disagreed with the public vote? about mahmood - mengoni shipping? Sky news spoiling the sanremo winner? The iconic screaming meme that gets updated every year? Madame antivax fake green pass agenda? Tananai celebrating his last place? About I cugini di campagna beef with maneskin? Belen’s butterfly tattoo? About placebo destroying their instruments and the audience booed them for 5 minutes straights? About Elton John deciding not to show up last minute and pippo baudo angrily announcing it live while eating a cake designed for him? Amadeus and Rkomi doing push-ups on stage? About Stash smile-pic everywhere? About Stromae playing the part so well that people thought he was drunk? About amarello?

WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT TRUE ITALIAN LORE

[tadpole-apocalypse]

5, 12, 19, and 20 for morgan? :3c

5. what does their tent area look like? where do they prefer to pitch their tent (next to water, covered on three sides, etc)?

Morgan’s tent is usually as far from the others as it could be, for a few reasons. First, it just makes practical sense from a wild magic standpoint. The closer you are to her, the higher the possibility of a random polymorph. Or fireball to the face. Secondly…well actually it doesn’t help with the sex sounds at all. 🤭

Inside is a mess. She organizes all the camp supplies so there’s always a pile of backpacks and chests full of random crap she wants to get a few gold pieces for.

12. their companions are gossiping about them behind their back! who is it and what are they saying?

Lae’zel and Karlach are gossiping about the aforementioned sex sounds. Lae’zel is annoyed and slightly jealous, and Karlach just thinks it’s hot.

Gale is complaining to anyone that will listen about Morgan’s disregard to any sensibilities towards privacy in their own brains. He doesn’t like her mind reading and starts doing psychic exercises via the tadpole to build up his mental defenses.

19. do you have a playlist for your tav? if so, what’s the title + description?

Ummm I’m not actually a huge music person! I mostly only listen to video game background music and citypop these days. 😔

But if there was a song for her it would be Lady Gaga’s “Teeth.”

(Also I maintain that the best Astarion playlist imo is just The Fame Monster album. Bad Romance? Alejandro? Dance in the Dark? MONSTER? Pure Astarion. 💅🏻)

20. if you were to try pickpocketing them, what would they be carrying?

Her pockets are always a surprise, usually not pleasant ones. But she usually has on her person at all times: a coin purse, some basic components for spells, a few scrolls of misty step and a small blade.

[skeletalsepulchre]

here’s my guy: Stephan Flanagan. Steve or Stevie. Currently lives in NYC. He was born February 8th, 1983 and died May 12th, 2018.

He was employed at the Morgan Library & Museum at the time of his death in the role of a librarian focused on literature history and archiving. Steve’s close with his vampire sire and respects them after the training and mentorship he received. It’s all intellectual and occult training, because Steve is a willow twig of a man. He’s your run-of-the-mill, lost-in-a-crowd, everybody-yet-nobody guy from Springfield of the Midwest. Moved to New York at the age of 28.

He’s 6’4”, pasty white, has brown hair, slightly overgrown, brown eyes, stupid manicured cowboy-type mustache. He dresses like he robbed your grandparents’ closet, the one that also serves as a moth family’s vacation home.

He has heightened senses and is the only one of the group that can drive, but he refuses to break traffic laws. The value he hinges his morality on is the idea of innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, to the point that even if he personally believes a person’s guilty but doesn’t have evidence up to the legal standard he will still try his hardest to treat them as innocent until that point. He follows the rules and the law, but this is less of a moral decision and more of a… IDK I’m projecting this one onto him.

Strength: 2/5, Dexterity: 3/5, Stamina: 2/5, Charisma: 3/5, Manipulation: 1/5, Composure: 3/5, Intelligence: 4/5, Wits: 2/5, Resolve: 2/5

Skills & Hobbies: He’s a hobbyist carpenter, enjoys the field of geophysiology, likes to research niche topics and practice his trivia knowledge. He used to play the hurdy-gurdy as part of a folk-band he was in with his college buddies. He is good at etiquette and falls back on polite, formal correspondence when stressed or uncomfortable.

Early in the campaign so IDK how he’s gonna play out but he is simultaneously the oldest and the youngest (being 35 ish physically and a new vampire) he’s also the designated driver and has already wandered off to explore a museum exhibit. Also he hid in a storage container to avoid a fight not because he was against the fight (although he was) but because he’s a bit of a coward and doesn’t know how to fight.

virtue is shoving him into her purse full of sad, scrawny nerds that she keeps as companions as we speak get behind her steve she will protect you

[luhwndrs]

AARON HOTCHNER x Y/N

AARON HOTCHNER | CHEIF

Part 1. FLUFF

***

These past few weeks have been tough for Aaron, the incident with his family has thrown him off the track. Everyone in the team was confused, we all were aware of what happened but none of us dared to bring it up to Hotch, after all he was our chief and he would Neve talk to us about personal matters. Even Rossi has tried to speak to him and nothing happened. 

We all gathered around the table as JJ presented us the new case, "Our killer has murdered multiple people at once and recorded it, Garcia I'll need you to find the video. We know that he has recorded the video because the police have found a camera with a disc inside, but when they try to play it nothing comes up." Reid cleared his throat as he settled one leg over the other, "Maybe he's leaving new discs as a hint that he will soon murder again?" JJ nodded at his theory, everyone agreed as well including me. My eyes trace off to see Aaron's expression, his eyes stared into the void as if he wasn't even in the room, my eyebrows furrowed together and took a deep breath before continuing to read the file. 

***

We all took our seats on the plane, I sat across from Aaron, seeing him looking out the window with his blunt expression. Even though he'd never show any expression, this time you can see the sadness in him. "What do you think about the case Hotch?" I ask attempting to make conversation, I know I am not able to help him but at least I can take his mind off for a minute. "The killer looks organised, the clean cuts, the clean up after each victim, everything is kept...tidy and clean." He trailed off into his thoughts expelling to me his theory, "Maybe he was in the army" Rossi jumped in "Or maybe he had a strict mother and would always tell him how to be neat, after all he is targeting 40 year old females." I chuckle at his comment as Rossi smiles. 

But Hotch still has no expression. 

"All right, I want JJ to handle the press and the interviews with the families of the victims, Reid, you will be doing the geographical analysis as well as trying to find any links between each murder, Morgan, I want you at the crime scenes and see if you can find anything that can lead us. Rossi and Prentiss will be handling the victims and checking for any physical similarities. Me and Y/N/L will be going through all of the files and checking up on everyone." Hotch assigned everyone to their jobs and closed his file as we were soon about to land. 

***

Me and Aaron were driving around the neighbourhoods of the 5 victims, seeing if there is anything that stands out, I clear my throat before turning my head to face him, "How have you been holding up? I know it has been rough for you-" I began, but he was quick to cut me off "I'd like it if you did not ask about my personal life whilst on duty Y/N/L" I nodded and pursed my lips together, lowkey regretting what I said. "Yes sir." 

We got out of the car as we both walked around one of the victims houses, with my hands in my pockets I looked around the front porch seeing toys and perfect gardening skills. "Someone must've really liked gardening." I mumble to myself as I continue to follow Aaron into the house, seeing all the blood on the floor and the residue of the weapons used bought a sick feeling to my stomach. I'd never get this feeling before, but everything is so familiar and vivid. 

"Look at this Y/N/L.." Hotch called me over as I swallowed the lump in my throat, "She had a perfect family, why would anyone want to do this?" I look up at him as I see him staring down at the photograph, "Maybe revenge?" I suggested as I walked away and started to look around the other rooms for more clues. A phone started to ring, coming from the family room we both walked slowly and carefully not knowing who it could be. The beep went off and a deep voice began to talk "I know you are there agents, you won't find any clues about me." Hotch was quick to speed dial Garcia and ask her if she could trace the call and see if she could find anything. "So our unsub is a male." I say affirmatively. 

We walked out the house as we made sure to shut it and make sure that it is locked for no one to go in or out. It was a winter night and our blazers were doing no justice to us, I bring my arms together as I followed Aaron to the car, "I know you're cold Y/N but we are close to the car.." He made sure that he was aware of my shivering, we had to park further away for no one to raise concerns about us visiting. There was still snow left on the pavement so you could hear our footsteps walking in sync. Till we heard another pair of footsteps, it was dark and no one would be out at this time. 

I look behind me as I get my hands ready on my gun, Aaron copies my actions but only turns the other way to see who is there. "Stay quite Y/N." He ordered. As if I was going to speak in front of a house full of blood. I roll my eyes as we turn against each others backs, my eyes quint trying to get the best out of my vision for our protection. 

A gunshot. 

I duck at the same time as Aaron as there was a car protecting us, I was quick to bounce back up and turn towards the direction of the gunshot. Holding my gun and flashlight up together I saw a dark outlined figured on the other street pointing their gun directly at me. I fired a shot aiming for his shoulder or upper chest area, hoping it wouldn't affect their heart. But the shots were fired at the same time. I moved to the side dogging the bullet but Hotch only began to get back up as he was squatting the whole time behind the car. The figure started to run away as I fired more shots towards them hoping to aim for them but nothing. 

I looked down at Aaron and see a flood of blood, "Aaron!" I get on my knees and hold pressure onto the gunshot wound. Luckily it was only his shoulder, I took off my blazer and applied more pressure to the wound hoping to stop the bleed. "We need an ambulance, agent down! I repeat we have an agent down!" I exclaimed into the mic hoping for the sirens to be heard. Aaron grabbed my hand, his warm touch against my coldness. "Y/N put your blazer on, I know you're cold. I'll be fine.." He coughs up his words, "Aaron for once let me help you!" I growled at him as I could feel my eyes burning. "Y/N don't.." His hands rose to my cheek and stroked my redness away, "Just stop talking Aaron, I don't want you loosing oxygen." I look around hoping for lights to be lit up but everyone was gone to sleep. 

Soon the sirens could be heard, I sigh in relief as I watch Aaron blinking slowly at me, "You'll be okay, just keep breathing." I repeated myself at least a dozen times and I will keep on repeating myself. My hands becoming more colder, I began to loose the feeling throughout my fingers and hands. "Agent!" One of the paramedics shout as I look behind me and smile at them, "It's agent Hotchner, please do everything you can." I climb with the paramedics into the ambulance as they give me a thermal blanket for me to warm me up. "Y/N.." Aaron softly whispered, "Yes sir?" I got closer to him alleging our faces together "Let me go.." He closed his eyes and let his mouth opened just enough for him to form the sentence. 

*** 

My heels clicked against the floor as I was pacing around his medical room, looking out the window, and back at his monitors. Looking at his medical records and files, and back at his monitors. I scammed my fingers through the file hoping I could piece something together, after all that shooting was intentional and there is a reason for why it happened. I sigh as I sink into my seat and watch the man sleeping peacefully. The high doses of morphine helped him to get through the pain. "God Aaron, you need to wake up.." I mumbled as I huffed and placed the files on the table. 

I made sure the team was aware of what happened and the severity of the incident, I also told them to not check up on him for now but to focus on the case and find our unsub. The nurse came in, checking and monitoring all of the cardio machines, blood flow and heart beat, "He is doing good agent Y/N/L." She said with a warm smile on her face, "Thank you." I return her smile as my hands began to feel clammy from all the sweat and coldness together. 

As I rested my cheek on my knuckles, I drifted off to a sleep for a few minutes, till Aaron began to speak, "Where am I?" I wake up suddenly and stand up to run to his side, "At the hospital, there was a shooting." I look down at him and give him a sad smile, inside I was so happy that he woke up and still was here. "You didn't let me go.." He looked up at me with the sparkle in his dark brown eyes, "Of course I didn't, how could I you're the chief and-" I rambled but he cut me off,

"Y/N." 

"Yes sir?" 

"I know you wouldn't let me go, thank you for being here." He let out a sigh, his gaze was softened and he actually seemed...happy. 

I smile at him as I was debating if I should grab his hand as a sense of reassurance, but I decided not to. "The team are aware of what happened but I told them to keep their focus on the unsub." my voice softened as I didn't want to be too loud for him, he grabbed my hand and held it closely to his chest, "Good work Y/N/L." 

***

It has been a few days since the shooting and everything was back to normal, Hotch pretended like it never happened, he doesn't even batter his eyes at me. I bet you he only talks to me because he is the chief and needs to tell us the cases all the time. I was sat at my desk after a long day of working on different files and linking murders together. "Y/N we are all going to the bar tonight, do you wanna come as well?" JJ offered, "No thanks, I need to..." my eyes look over to Aarons office, "I need to finish off this case then I'll probably be out." I smile at her as I fiddle around with my pen. "You need to actually come next time," Morgan huffed out, "Even Reid comes with us more often than you do!" That was a fact and even Reid nodded. I chuckle and wave them a bye, as soon as they walked out of the building I built my courage and stood up.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I walked towards Aarons office. Of course I am annoyed with him, how can he say all of those things and not even look at me the next day? I know they were not romantic at all but still! 

I didn't even bother to knock, as I opened the door, his eyes shot right up "Y/N/L." He greeted. "No, it's not Y/N/L, it's Y/N. After all you have been through I have been trying to be there for you whilst no one else has even tried to ask how are you or how are you holding up apart from Rossi. And even then you dismissed him!" I shut the door and stand right in front of him, starting to pace around, "I know we are almost everyday on duty and we never even get the chance to speak about our own lives, but I am trying. I'm trying. Just to check on you and see how you are holding up!" I sighed out as I was close to running out of breath. "Y/N." He said firmly as his eyes followed my pace. "What?" I look at him in annoyance. 

"I know and I can see that you have been trying to seek me out, check on me and ask me about my life." His tone was so calm and gentle, "I appreciate you for this but I am not a person that opens up to anyone at their command." I crossed my arms together, "But when it comes to others you want them open up to you." I kept on trying to fight, "No, Y/N, I am just someone that people can open up to, they know I might know what they are going through because of my life." He explained himself. I look on the floor as I bite my tongue to not say anything. "I'm sorry Y/N." 

My eyes looked up at him, he was watching me the whole time. I licked my lips as my eyebrows narrowed together and my head shook, "Don't say you're sorry when you're not." I replied in a quiet tone. Aaron got up from his seat and got in front of his desk, leaning against it, his eyes not being able to break off of me. "Y/N, I am sorry." He said once again with a genuine look on his face. I pursed my lips together and looked at him, "It's fine.." I reply as I turn and reach my hand out for the door handle, "I didn't say you can leave." 

Oh?

[alittlewhump]

15 Questions Tag

Thank you for the tag, @i-can-even-burn-salad - though I'm not sure what you mean, nobody is suffering here. :)

Rules: Answer these questions from the perspective of one of your characters. Theoretically you are meant to tag people to do the same, but I'm simply not sociable enough to tag anyone. If this game interests you, consider yourself tagged.

For the purposes of this tag game, you are interviewing Morgan from my long story Unbidden, not terribly long after the events of the most recent epilogue piece (#18).

1. Are you named after anyone?

"No." He looks away, as if something about a nearby plant has caught his attention. "Not any more," he adds softly.

2. When was the last time you cried?

He gives you a sharply disapproving look. "I'm not sure that's any of your business," he tells you tersely. In fact, he woke this morning - a poor start, not having meant to fall asleep - with grief he refuses to name scraping jaggedly inside his ribcage, and wept quietly for several minutes before gathering himself to face the day.

3. Do you have kids?

An expression of bewildered disbelief crosses his face. "No. Why would I ever want – no, no children."

4. Do you use sarcasm?

"No. I like to speak plainly, and I appreciate when others afford me the same courtesy." He regards you with mild suspicion, clearly trying to work out whether or not the previous question was meant to be sarcastic.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

"Their proximity." He says this as though it is self-evident.

6. What's your eye color?

"You'd know better than I would. Ah, unless – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have presumed. Very pale blue."

7. Scary movies stories or happy endings?

He squints, his eyebrows drawing together. "It doesn't matter, as long as it's true. Either, or both, or neither. A happy ending for the fox is a scary story for the rabbit."

8. Any special talents?

"No." He does not elaborate. There is no need to. Blaise might have had something to say about that, but as she is not currently present, you will have to make do with what you have.

9. What are your hobbies?

"I enjoy tending my garden and preparing reagents. I like to read. Pansy is teaching me to knit." He fishes an approximately square knitted cloth out of one of his pockets and makes to hand it to you. The edge stitches are loose and it is wider at one end than the other.

10. Where were you born?

"Gea Kul." He does not appear to have any interest in elaborating on this.

11. Have you any pets?

"Any... companion animals?" He shakes his head in the negative once you make your meaning clear. "No. Animals come and go through the garden. I like to watch them, but they aren't mine in any way. I might try my hand at keeping bees, one day."

12. What sports do you play/have played?

"I've never played sports. Some people are very skilled, I'm sure, but they don't hold much appeal to me."

13. How tall are you?

He seems momentarily confused by the question before he recalls your evident visual impairment. "A little more than fifteen hands."

14. Favorite subject in school?

It takes him a few seconds to work up a reply, toying with the stitching on the hem of his sleeve. "I have always enjoyed learning, no matter the subject. Botany has brought me the most pleasure, I suppose."

15. Dream job?

He physically flinches at this question. Recovering quickly, he smooths away the sorrow from his features, uncreasing the line of his brow and pursing his lips slightly to make a straight line of his mouth. "My work as an herbalist is very satisfying," he says, not meeting your eyes. "I couldn't choose anything I'd rather do."

[janatm]

it's all in the things you didn't say || PUCKEVA

tagging: Eva Anderson & Noah Puckerman

date & time: October 19, 2024 in late morning, early afternoon

location: Puck's house, in the front yard bu the rose bushes

warnings: none!

summary: This conversation has been a long time coming, but Puck still wasn't prepared and Eva probably wasn't expecting all of that either.

word count: 4,560

EVA had been so fucking relieved to get home, shower, DoorDash herself a 5-star fucking meal that she scarfed down in minutes, and then just sleep. She'd slept in the next morning as well, and had been prepared to just stay wrapped up in bed all day until she started getting texts from Santana Lopez. She knew her, to an extent, and the woman gave her a brief yet detailed rundown of her connection to Puck and what she thought of the throuple before urging (or politely demanding) that she come over and at least let Puck see that she was okay post-lockdown bullshit. She only spent half an hour debating it before she got up, tossed on a pair of leggings, a tank top, a pair of sneakers, and tossing her messy hair into an even messier bun. In no mood to worry about make up, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed to her car. This was stupid, she knew that much, but mostly because Puck's baby mama had planned it and he had no idea she was even coming over. But after opening up to Morgan, it was only fair that she do the same for Puck, so she sucked it up and drove over to his house anyways. As soon as she pulled into the driveway, she saw Santana get up from the porch and head inside as she parked. "Puckerman!" Santana yelled out once she stepped inside, and she waved off Jake and Maya giggling over on the couch. "You have a visitor outside, pendejo." The Latina stated smugly before she motioned for her kid and her uncle to go play video games or something as she noticed Eva climbing out of her car.

PUCK had damn near ran all the way home after they finally released them from lockdown. Six fucking days. Dude was starving, tired, exhausted and in desperate need of a shower. But more than anything he wanted to see his kid. Thankfully his truck was wear he'd parked it and despite sitting around for almost a week, it didn't seem to have a scratch on it. After he hugged the absolute fuck out his daughter and his mom, he was not so polietly told to deep clean himself. Before he knew it Jake and Santana were filling his home with warmth and laughter and for the first time in a week, Puck felt whole again. Which is why he didn't say anything when everyone was still there the next morning using up his showers and eating his food. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling. He was in the kitchen with his mom, letting Santana and Jake occupy Maya outside while he talked to his mother. Just as he was going to start a legit conversation about all the bullshit he couldn't seem to sort through on his own, his baby mama's voice rang out in the house and then Maya and Jake were coming inside and- "I have a visitor?" He said to his mom like she'd know who it was. Confusion on his face he walked to the front door passing everyone's amused faces. When he opened the door, the last person he expected was standing in front of him. Dressed down, but looking good, unharmed, safe and a sense of relief he didn't know he was waiting for washed over him. "Eva? What're you doing here? You okay?" He was still just standing in his doorway.

EVA was..she honestly didn't even know what all she was feeling right now, but it was clear that everyone else seemed to be in on this forced visit, yet she didn't know how Puck would feel about it. And once he came to the front door, she inhaled a small breath. "I'm okay. I just.." She paused, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to say about why she was here. Luckily, she didn't have to. Groaning from behind Puck, Santana rolled her eyes before she shoved him out of the doorway and onto the porch. "Remember when you wouldn't listen to me during lockdown? She listened to me. You're welcome." She sassed before shutting the front door, and Eva was slightly amused at the fact that there was someone else who could boss him around, and she now knew exactly where Maya got it from. But now that they were alone, mostly, she knew she had to just start talking now or she wouldn't ever do it. "Right, well..I'd say I'm sorry for just showing up unannounced but she kinda demanded it after she told me she was Maya's mother and she thought that seeing with your own eyes that I was okay might be good for you." She explained nervously before she took a few small steps towards him. "I'm fine, and Morgan's fine. We were completely unharmed in everything, aside from being fucking irritated by everyone, but we're good. And I would hug you or whatever, but first — what the hell happened to your hand?"

PUCK let out a breath when she confirmed she was okay and he was just about to move them outside to the bench in front of the rose bushes, when he felt a hand on him, shoving him forward and the door shutting on them. The former Marine made a mental note to yell at the mother of his child later for meddling when he specifically told her to back off. Not that she'd listen, but it might make him feel better about being blindsided with Eva at his door. "Yeah, she's... somethign else. You didn't need to come just 'cause she told you to though. It's good if she doesn't get her way all the time." He smiled and as he was going to step forward to get to the bench she stepped closer so he stopped and just let her say what she needed to say. Oh, so her and Morgan had been together, that was good. Even better that they had been unharmed by the earthquake or the general fuckery of lockdown. Although, maybe he was the only one dumb enough to hurt themselves after an earthquake. Speaking of, he looked down at his hand, he had just redressed it after his shower this morning, mainly so no one had to see the wounds. "It's just a minor injury, I'm fine." He started walking toward the rose bushes to get out of earshot of the nosiest people on planet earth and probably any other planet. Gesturing at the bench he waited to sit until she did. "You said you and Morgan were good, does that mean y'all were together?" He asked hoping they had at least had each other if no one else the last week.

EVA shrugged at Puck's words. "She's persistent, but she made several good points. And all things considered, even if the earthquake wasn't as big of a deal as they made it out to be, I kinda wanted to see you too, just to be sure." Luckily they'd gotten the texts to go through days ago so she knew he'd been in one piece, she just needed to see it too. Luckily Santana had already mentioned that he was hurt, she just told Eva she'd have to ask him how it happened since she'd read his texts and knew they had both tried telling him not to do anything stupid or heroic, and he hadn't listened. Not surprising. Watching him walk over to the bench, she sighed at his gesture before she walked over and sat down. She let him ask about Morgan before shaking her head. "Not..exactly." She muttered. "My group's last move was to the school cafeteria, and Morgan, Jake, and Bree were all there. Oh, and your little friend Serena was there too." She stated with an eye roll. "I hate her, by the way, and I'm pretty sure she's scared of me now, as she fucking should be, but I do know that she for sure has feelings for Morgan. And I don't know how you feel about that, but..I was prepared to beat her ass if it came to that. And Morgan isn't exactly dumb or blind to the fact that she wants him, but I dunno, it kinda seems like he's leading her on since he's not putting an end to it. Which..before I go into the real reason why I'm here, I have to ask: do you have feelings for Kurt? Is that why you...you know?"

PUCK didn't really know how feel about Eva wanting to see him, it was a very different vibe then the one she was putting off toward him before. Maybe she was still dealing with the lockdown of it all and was just too tired to be mad right now. Either way, he figured he shouldn't ask questions and instead just roll with it. Getting comfortable as she gave him way more information than he was expecting, he put his arm around the back of the bench and when she mentioned Serena's name he couldn't help but look over in the direction of her house. While Jake has mentioned being with Eva, Morgan and Bree eventually, Puck hadn't asked a lot of questions so he wasn't sure about the timing of any of it. Not knowing what to respond to first he just looked at her for a second. No make up, hair was haphaardly put up, and she was wearing legging and comfortable looking shoes. Puck had never seen her like this, she looked soft and real and he just wanted to hug her. Instead he took in a breath and sat up. "Yeah, Jake mentioned y'all were together but I didn't know if you'd been together the whole time or not. Not really sure what to say to that but I mean I feel like I can't stop anybody from liking him, not really sure how I feel about it being Serena but I guess I'm not surprised. If he ain't stopping it then maybe he's into her too." Yeah, that didn't feel great to say but what could he do? They were broken up and again Puck was confused by Eva wanting to beat her ass or scare her, isn't she mad at him and done with all of it? Part of him just wanted to focus on why she was really here because he thought she just wanted to appease Santana by letting Puck see she was truly okay with his own two eyes. The other part of him, figured he owned her an answer to her question. "Nah, I didn't have feelings for him, I didn't really know him. Met him at that zodiac party and knew he was interested in me so I asked him out after I saw Morgan going on a date with Serena and when I came and saw you and you were going out on a date. It was dumb, I now that, but I just didn't wanna be the only one not seeing other people."

EVA should have expected Puck to just kinda go along with the Serena and Morgan thing, and it would have pissed her off if she wasn't already an emotional wreck. And for all she knew, Morgan was gonna handle that eventually, so she was trying to remember that it wasn't what was important right now. She only told Puck because unlike they'd done before, she was trying to keep all three of them on the same page. After all, she knew the implications of that not happening firsthand now, so it would be dumb to make the same mistake again. Listening to him answer her question, she nodded along, and she guessed it kinda made sense. "For the record, I wasn't going on a date like that. It was drinks with a friend." She stated, and then she exhaled a deep breath. "I never told you or Morgan this before, but I don't exactly do the feelings or relationship thing. I avoid it, honestly, so accepting how I felt about you two was hard. Really fucking hard, especially since I didn't know if the whole throuple thing was just sex for you two or if it was more than that. And I didn't even mean to tell Kurt, it just kinda...slipped, but then I was trying to work up the courage to tell you two while you guys were making a decision without me. A stupid decision that if you two had even told me about after you made it, I probably would've forced myself to come clean about the fact that I was ready to be all in, with both of you, and then none of the other shit would've happened." Shrugging, Eva could feel that same annoying feeling in the pit of her stomach, and if she could have stopped it, she would have. "That's why I was pissed about the date thing. I felt blindsided because both of you agreed to seeing other people but I didn't, and I didn't even find out until it was too late, and then I felt stupid for wanting to be with both of you when you clearly didn't feel the same way." She confessed as the tears started flowing a little too freely for her liking.

PUCK really just didn't know how to take any of this. Apparently he and Morgan decided to date other people with her, but he didn't know they were exclusive at any point. I mean, he thought they would be, that they were close to having another conversation about it, which is why he was thrown off by them going on dates. Although, apparently, Eva wasn't going on a date date even though she called it a date. And at the end of the day this entire situation is entirely his fault, he never should have said he was trying to be cool with the idea of Morgan and Eva dating other people. If he had just shut the fuck up for once in his life he wouldn't have hurt Eva or Morgan and they'd probably be fine. This was on him. It always had been, he just didn't want to see it. He shouldn't have said what he said to Morgan, he should have told them both how he felt. He should have told them he didn't want to date other people and he didn't want them to either. He should have communicated and because he didn't now they're broken and hurt and he can't blame anyone but himself. A sentiment he was about to share but then Eva was talking about and in the blink of an eye she was crying. Not that he didn't think she could cry, it just didn't seem like something she would do. Fuck, what am I suppose to do, what's the right thing to say? Do I hug her, do I say I'm sorry? It was definitely taking him too long to respond but he had already ruined everything once and he didn't trust himself not to ruin this. He was going to do or say the wrong thing. He always did and said the wrong thing. Fuck, fuck fuck! Do something, you idiot. He reached out a hand, but it didn't seem like a enough, she was going to think he didn't care. But a hug seemed... what if that was too much contact. For fuck sake, dude, say something! "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I said to Morgan, I should have made sure we were all on the same page. I should have told you both how I felt. I hate that I hurt you, hate that I made you feel like I didn't have legit feelings for you. I hate that I ruined what we could've had and more than anything I hate that I can't undo what I did so you never had to hurt." That was a lot more than he meant to say and he still felt so uneasy because it didn't feel like he did it right. What if he just made it worse? He wanted to hug her but he didn't want her to feel trapped or anything, so instead he reached his hand up to her face and wiped at the tears on his cheeks with his thumb.

EVA really hadn't planned to keep crying any time she opened up, but it was impossible at this point. It was as if her body and her emotions were in sync so there wasn't one without the other, not when she was talking to the object(s) of her desire or whatever, so she wasn't even fighting it. She managed to get out most of what she needed to say at least, so there was that. And while Morgan had immediately folded and hugged her once she started crying, she had half expected Puck not to. He'd interpreted her being hurt and asking for space as her saying she'd completely given up and didn't want him or Morgan anymore, so she was well aware that he wouldn't know how to proceed now. And maybe she wasn't expecting much of anything right now. Having to do this back to back was taking a toll on her already. Yet once Puck finally found something to say, she just sighed and nodded, deciding to let him get it all out while she attempted to reel her tears and shit back in. Not that it was working much, but she was attempting anyways. Once he finally finished, the hand attempting to dry her tears made her smile, even if it were just a small one. "I didn't say all of that to put all the blame on you." She stated, since this wasn't the first time she'd felt like he'd assumed it was all on him. "We all should've spoken up, so...we all played a part in this." She shrugged as she tried wiping her tears away now. "But uh..I should tell you what I told Morgan, which is that I only asked for time because I was scared. Scared that I'd come clean about how I felt, and you two would still decide that y'all wanted to fuck other people — it wasn't me giving up or whatever, I just don't handle rejection, or being hurt well, obviously."

PUCK had never been so grateful to see a smile in his life, no matter how small. It was an indicator that he hadn't fucked this up, that even if this wasn't going past today, past this conversation, at least she didn't hate him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he didn't want her to share the blame, she didn't need to do that but before he could protest she was talking again and what she said had him completely forgetting who was at fault for what. Eva? Scared? Rejected? God, he was a fucking asshole, he had been so in his own head the past month, he hadn't even considered that what he did would make her feel rejected. Hurt, sure, but he has felt rejected by her and Morgan for the last couple of weeks and the idea that he's part of the reason she feels like that now, fuck, does Morgan feel like that? This time he didn't have time to talk himself out of it, he just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. It was a little awkward since they were sitting on a bench with their knees in the way. But he cradled the back of her head with one hand and rubbed his other hand on her back. "I'm so sorry. I've been in my own head and I fucked up." Like he always did when he got like that. "I never wanted to hurt you. Never." He said and he readjusted his head so her could place a soft kiss against her temple. He pulled away, just to her could look at her again, both of his hands cradling her face for a moment. "I know it don't help any but I found out pretty quick I didn't wanna be with anybody but you and Morgan after that date I went on."

EVA wouldn't have dared to ever feel rejected before, but that was yet another foreign emotion she now felt thanks to Morgan and Puck. Normally, she would've fucked right off the second things started getting serious, or if she were in a position to feel like someone else could take her spot, but both men had her catching feelings way too easily and too swiftly for her to have just cut them off cold turkey when shit hit the fan. And that was probably why she kept crying when she tried to open up about her feelings now. Letting Puck pull her in for a hug, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, needing to just enjoy being in his embrace for a bit, like she'd done with Morgan. Honestly, it was one of the things she'd missed about them both, just how good it felt being in their arms like this, just usually when she wasn't crying. And much like with the cowboy, it was Puck's turn to reassure that he knew he'd fucked up. Eva wanted to believe them, she truly did, but it was still going to take time. Letting him pull away to cup her face, she bit her lip at his confessions. "Morgan kinda said the same thing.." She admitted. "I want to believe you both, but...I don't know, maybe I need you both to prove it."

PUCK wanted nothing more than to be able to prove to her that he wanted her, but how could he do that right now when took him, what, three days to fuck somebody else during lockdown. The truth was, he didn't believe he deserved Eva or Morgan, but more than that he didn't think he deserved love at all, that meant his mom, his brother, Santana and even his daughter, all felt like people he didn't deserve and everyday he fought his nature to not fuck things up with them. Usually, he manage, but lately, after Gabe, like always, he was just mentally fucked and then the start of Halloween was always a mine field of if he was going to have a fucking episode because someone decided to scare him, and then the lockdown and he was alone too long. Even though there were people they weren't his people, his safety nets and by the time Santana appeared it was too late. Puck knew he wasn't okay, but he didn't know it was as bad as it is. God, he wished he could have just one last good day with her, one more day before he has to accept he can't be what she needs right now. But it was too late. "I want more than anything to be able to prove it to you. I need you to know that. But I don't know how when I don't think I deserve you or Morgan. I'm not- I don't think I'm good enough for either one of you." He looked her in the eyes, her beautiful brown eyes and he hoped she could see and feel his earnestness, his vulnerability. "I knew I was fucked up, but I don't think- I think I've been underestimating just how bad it's gotten. I wanna be with you and Morgan so fucking bad, baby, I swear on my child's life, but imma just keep fucking up because I don't think I deserve it and I don't wanna hurt y'all like that again." It took everything in him not to let the tears he could feel welling up, fall.

EVA didn't quite understand why Puck always seemed to resort to the worst in almost any given situation, but she was also starting to get used to it after their run in with Gabe, since it all made sense then. The man had belittled him and made it clear that he'd been treating his son like that for his entire life, and she was more than happy to try and shift his thinking, but as soon as he started explaining himself, she sighed. Maybe she should have saw this coming right now but she hadn't, and now she didn't fully know how to fix this. Not by herself, anyways. If Morgan had been here, he would've found a way to probably not say much but still say exactly what it took to at least make Puck smile. She was already deep in her own emotions so what could she really do to make this better? Wiping at her own eyes, Eva exhaled a small breath. "We're not perfect, Noah." She pointed out. "All of us have fucked up before, and there's no guarantee that we won't do it again. Doesn't mean you're not good enough for us, or vice versa. I told you when I asked for some time to think that you and Morgan needed to think about what you both wanted too, and you can both say you want this, but...he clearly likes Serena, and you're probably still going out with people too. If we aren't ready to just turn everyone else down, then how the hell can any of us say that we know without a doubt that we want this?"

PUCK knew she was right, none of them were perfect and honestly, he didn't think of them as perfect. Just as better than him. But he pretty much thought everyone was better than him, that was the issue. For a dude known for being full of himself, he really didn't like the person he was and never really got a chance to figure out how to appreciate himself genuinely. Damn, is that what it means to compensate for a shortcoming? Wait, Morgan had feelings for Serena? That was, that hurt, maybe that's why he wanted time and space. Maybe that's why he gave up so quick. There was something going on with Serena, and Puck would probably process that later at the worst possible time, but for now he just was too tired to be more than hurt. It seemed like Eva was right, there was unresolved shit with them all outside of each other that they needed to sort out. There was one thing she was wrong about though, Puck knew he wanted them, even through the hurt and the self loathing, he knew he wanted to be with them, that he wanted them to all be together and he didn't need time to figure that out or be confident in that. But he did need time, so instead of saying any of that, all he could do was nod in response to her question, eyes a little sad but he understood, finally he understood. Feeling like they were both exhausted and spent, he just took her hands in his and gave the back of her hands a little kiss before looking at her. "Thank you for coming here, for letting me see you, for telling me all that, for being honest. I'm really glad you weren't hurt in that earthquake or in the lockdown." He hugged her again and in his head, said what he just couldn't say to her in that moment; I missed you, baby.