#save me middle aged fbi agent

[lesdeuxxx]

Felt like i should repost this

[spencersbabymama]

Numbers l Chapter One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Disabled OC

Content Warning: Mention of disability, mention of disability limitations, I think that's about it.

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: It's the first day of Brooke Bevan's dream job working as a technical analyst for the Behavioral Analyst Unit in the FBI. She knows girls like her don't get jobs like these every day so she doesn't want to blow it. What she wasn't expecting, was to meet a dapper genius her age....

a/n: AAAAAHHH I'm so excited to finally be posting this! This series is my baby and I'm so excited to share. I'm really passionate about writing disabled characters since I'm disabled myself, and I've noticed a lack of Spencer Reid x Disabled OC content, so I figured why not do it myself? Shout out to @just-call-me-by-yn & @floraisunwell for pushing me to go forward with this idea! I'm so happy I met you both! Also credit to @just-call-me-by-yn for making this awesome banner for me 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Story: “Hey, thanks for meeting me downstairs.  You would think for a government building, they would have easier to reach elevator buttons for everyone.” I joke, trying to break the ice with the person I’ll be spending most of my time with.  

Although that didn’t seem to be a problem because the second I entered the lobby, Penelope Garcia, BAU Technical Analyst Extraordinaire, was standing right in the middle wearing white dress covered in colorful flowers, pink cardigan, matching  kooky glasses, yellow heels, and all wrapped up in a smile that could possibly blind an elderly person.  It was at that moment, I knew work, at least, wouldn't be boring.

“Oh honey, no problem, I probably would have raced to the lobby even if you didn’t call just so I could be the first one to greet you.” Penelope giggled.  I opened my mouth to add my own witty humor but instantly got cut off. “You know normally I don’t love newbies joining the team, especially newbies entering my expertise, but I had a feeling when I found out you were another techy kick butt girl?  Oh my gosh I was so excited!” Penelope added, almost seeming out of breath now from her said excitement.

All I could do was giggle and nod in agreement.  

It was a relief to know I didn’t embarrass myself in the first few minutes on the job.  I knew the fact that I got this job was an accomplishment.  Girls like me don’t get jobs like these everyday.  Girls like me who have no use of their legs and have limited muscle strength, do not get jobs in the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI.  Though it was my dream, the moment when I couldn't reach the elevator buttons was an honest wake up call

Ever since I was little I loved the idea of saving others and catching bad guys.  When other girls were painting their nails, or playing princess, I was in the city library reading about Ted Bundy.  Strange for a 12 year old girl, I know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about why people did what they did.  Don’t worry I still enjoyed dolling up my nails every once in a while.

Obviously it was no secret I couldn’t run after criminals, or even use a gun so I knew it was probably a pipe dream.  So I shifted gears, got into tech and code.  I could do that.  With the right adaptive technology, I could run laps around any encryption.  Luckily I never used my powers for evil. In high school I learned about technical analysts who worked for the FBI.  That was it, that was my path.

The elevator opened and I followed Penelope through the glass doors, into the bullpen I saw in my college textbooks.  If it wasn’t clear by my beaming smile, I was almost start struck by the sight of all the agents sitting at the desks working and I got to be one of them.  One agent stood out though because instead of flipping through files or paperwork, he was playing chess, by himself.  The other odd thing was he looked about my age.  I expected to be the youngest one on the team because by some miracle, I got this job only a few years after graduating college. His floppy curly brown hair shielded his eyes slightly, but even from where I was, I could tell they were brown.

Penelope’s voice took me out of my trance and my eyes snapped up to look at her “Hotch told me to come get him when you arrived since well…” She gestured to the wheels of my motorized wheelchair, then up to the door in the middle of the walkway above the main level of the bullpen with a small awkward giggle “Stairs, so I’ll be right back.” I snicker slightly then nod, sending her up the stairs and into the room she pointed to.

While waiting, my gaze goes back to the chess playing guy.  He was young but dressed like an old man, suit, tie, and everything.  There was something wise about him, like his looks were youthful but it seemed like he’s seen some things.

Hotch’s office door opened before he and Penelope made their way down the steps.  I met them halfway, holding out my hand as best I could with a smile “Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, Brooke Bevan, it’s seriously an honor to be working with you.”  In my defense, I didn't mean to sound like a fan girl, it just came out that way.

With a firm grip, Hotch shook my hand “Welcome, we’re eager to have you.”  Already I could tell the rumors were true. Aaron Hotchner was all business and it looked like he hadn’t smiled in at least a month.  He was the man in charge for a reason though, the number of successful cases couldn’t lie.  

Hotch reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out the thing that makes all this official.  My face beams as my heart races in my chest.  “Here are your credentials.  As you should already know, you must keep these on you.”  I nod while practically ogling the FBI symbol on the front of my credentials.  “Penelope can introduce you to everyone.” Hotch explains while placing the booklet on my lap then heads back up to his office.

Penelope practically shakes with excitement “It’s official newbie!”  She was right.  I am now Brooke Bevan, Technical Analyst for the FBI, it had a nice ring to it.  “Come and meet everyone!” Penelope chimes before leading to a group sitting in the middle of the bullpen.

A dark-haired girl looks up from the file she was reading and her face lights up when she sees us coming “Hey!  You must be Brooke.” She stands up and shakes my hand “I’m Emily Prentis, it’s nice to meet you. Hotch has said good things.” 

I grin with a nod before one by one introduces themselves with a handshake.  Derek Morgan, David Rossi, then Jennifer Jareau who apparently goes by JJ.  Finally there was Chess Guy.  I hold out my hand before he awkwardly waves it off with a small smile “I-I actually don’t do handshakes.  Did you know according to studies, a handshake can transfer a significant amount of bacteria, with research showing that a handshake transmits nearly twice as many bacteria compared to a high five and significantly more than a fist bump, which is considered the most hygienic greeting option du-”

“And that is Dr. Spencer Reid.” JJ cut him off with a small amused laugh.

My eyes blink a few times, trying to drink in the info dump plus the fact that JJ just said doctor.  My eyebrows furrow a little in confusion “You look a little young to be a doctor…” My voice trails off.  

That’s when Penelope speaks up “Reid is our team genius.”

Reid sheepishly “I don’t really believe you can quantify knowledge but I do have an IQ of 187 and eidetic memory.”

I give another stunned look and utter “Huh…”  To be honest I couldn’t recall knowing anyone with that amount of smarts, I couldn’t help but be impressed.  “How about a high five then?” I finally say with a smile while holding out my hand.

Spencer’s face seemed to light up and he reached out to give me a high five.

Suddenly Hotch comes out with a thick file folder in his hand, his presence commanding attention. “We have a case.”

[randomfoggytiger]

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (Weremonster), Part III

Here we go, first comedic episode of the Revival. 

…Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay…

Part I (My Struggle I) and Part II (Founder's Mutation).

Let's go!

MULDER AND SCULLY MEET THE WEREMONSTER

Why are we starting with adults huffing spray paint.

…Darin wrote two episodes with people getting high off of the strangest substances. 

And that’s not a lot, but it’s odd that it happened twice. 

Why do monsters always run towards the people or object or whatever they’re trying to scare or escape from? Like, what if he got surprise-shanked by two high, high school dropouts? (It’s not out of the realm of possibility.)  

No self-preservation instinct, tsk tsk. 

This dude’s okay, no that dude, woah that dude might not be okay. 

…Random paper bag for the high man to stress-blow into. 

Oh, look, a writer remembering the lore. 

How quaint. 

(Sidenote: Darin did not remember the lore, and kinda prided himself on not keeping up with all of it. But that won’t matter to me if he writes a good one-off.)

Mulder’s older now so he can’t stretch his neck to throw pencils at the ceiling. I guess. I suppose. I supposition. I presume.  

Kumail’s in this one? 

…’Kay. 

“Mulder?” Yay, that’s Scully-- “What are you doing to my poster?” And that’s Gillian. 

Mulder’s recounting all his failures in an upbeat, presentational way ‘cuz he’s wooing his girl. At least neither of them act like they’re on the precipice of death, that’s neato. 

Oh, look, Scully can smile. Remember how she did that twice in My Struggle I? Good times. 

Why’s her shirt look like it’s from Walmart?

Forgot this… pencil-scratch material was popular around the mid twenty-teens.

Can I forget it again…? …No? Do they leave it behind in Season 10? 

“--Going through these cases with fresh, if not wiser eyes.” Well, I don’t know about that. 

Also, is that a dig at his “wiseness” or a tongue-in-cheek joke at Mulder’s pat-on-the-back nature? (Lemme rewind.) Backpat coupled with epiphany. 

“Mulder? Have you been taking your meds?” 

…

….

…..

What, did they expect a laugh out of me? It just annoyed me because of the whole “Mulder’s depression” trauma I suffered for two episodes. 

But at least Darin’s trying to remind us that’s an on-going issue (despite CC implying it doesn’t bother Mulder anymore in My Struggle I and Morgan?-- or Wong-- reinforcing that idea in his “bitterly healed and chakras open” Founder’s Mutation ending.) 

Mulder’s a middle-aged man who just got back to the office and is wondering if anything he’s accomplished… well, if he’s accomplished anything. 

A valid question in these dark times. 

And by dark times, we all know what me and my chocolate-addled, My Struggle-PTSDed brain are referring to. 

Mulder certainly does:

“Maybe it’s time to put away childish things-- the Sasquatches, the Mothmen, and… Jackalopes.” 

Okay, well that’s rude-- I always wanted to see a jackalope case. 

Mulder spent one weekend not getting a community response to his latest fanfic and let the dark thoughts take over. 

All joke’s aside, this is an… it’s an okay scene. It’s weighty enough to be taken seriously, you feel for this clone of Mulder’s, you hope he gets his Mr. Incredibles act together--

Oh, wait, he already did by now. 

I guess. 

We skipped the traincar training montage while he was getting back into FBI ready shape. 

…

.....

.......

You’re welcome. 

On another aside, Skinner just pulled all the strings only for Mulder to have an identity crisis after one weirdo case. 

Man’s been carrying everyone on his back for decades with no rest and his newly recruited, depressed-but-not-depressed-depending-on-the-writer, domesticated-feral-animal agent might just trounce back out of the FBI and go wall up somewhere to mope. 

At least he’s not wandering off to take illegal substances to satisfy his curiosity. 

No. 

That’s saved for another episode. 

Scully brushes over Mulder’s confession to say, “we got another case, and this one’s ALSO got a monster in it.” 

And that makes him happy. 

Oooooooooooooooooooooooookay. 

*scribbling notes for later observation*

Darin has a favorite and that is OG Scully. And I will give it to him, she actually sounds happy for once. 

ALSO, I noticed your smoker voice is gone, GILLIAN, unless you’re mumbling or using The Sad Voice ™. I noticed. 

Scully’s insisting this is a monster case while Mulder mopes around the woods and says it’s a mountain lion. 

…I’m NOT gonna nitpick. I’m NOT-- OKAY, so, rewind time. 

Older Mulder-- as in the 90s Mulder-- would have at least been amused by Scully’s antics and followed her around for the fun of it, unless he felt used and abused, i.e. Host and Folie a Deux. Here is not the case. 

Further, he was intrigued in the basement but is now kind of… dismissive. 

Which is. It’s not a big problem, it doesn’t stand out, and it wouldn’t be something I’d clock except I’m very disgruntled and burned and grumpy about the past three days. 

However. 

Let’s continue. 

 Mulder’s Patriarchy Pants are making him do the Marilyn Monroe wiggle again. However, like a virus, middle-aged wedgie crotch has infected Scully, too; and the two of them are squeak-squonking ‘round the forest. 

They do say marriage slowly turns you into each other. 

Mulder sloughing off the naked guy in the crime scene pics as “Well, maybe he’s a nudist.” 

Darin. 

I know what you’re doing here. 

Give Mulder the doubting identity crisis and have his faith transformed. A reverse Clyde Bruckman, if you will. I get it. But you gotta admit, "a nudist" is a pretty weak rationalization, let alone a comeback. 

“That’s how I’d like to go out.” That saved it a little.

“The uniqueness of the wound, Mulder, implies a human element.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Scully, I gave up profiling before I gave up monsters.” WHAT? LAST WEEK?

YOUR CREDENTIALS AS A PROFILER GOT YOU HIRED BACK TO THE FBI--

Pause, pause, pause. 

He’s probably being tongue-in-cheek. He gave up monsters this morning and profiling last night. 

…If he’s not, what’s Mulder gonna do? Take up residence under Skinner’s desk? Have his bald benefactor feed him pencil shavings between meetings? 

“You seen one serial killer, you seen ‘em all.” Quite literally, no. 

I am. 

Puzzled. 

It’s not offensive-- WAIT, NO. I’m being emotionally manipulated by a softer Mulder and more upbeat Scully, youcan’ttakemealive--

“Mulder, I can see you’re going through a questioning phase of some sort--”

You don’t say. 

From bar to basement. From closet to forest. From Founder’s Mutation to… Weremonster Investigation.

Scully points out they need to help the victims.

Mulder: “Okay, well when you put it that way, Scully, but mark my words--”

I’m not getting the essence of Mulder here, gang. 

I got him for, like, three whiffs in My Struggle I and once at the end of Founder’s Mutation, but he’s MIA here so far. 

…Perhaps my “clone Mulder” crack in a previous paragraph kinds fits. 

Hmmm. If he continues to be Mulder-adjacent, I shall name him… I was gonna say ‘Charlie’, then remembered that’s Scully’s brother’s name. The CC name rot is infecting me. 

The streetwalker-on-crack scene was amusing, but not really funny. 

OH, MAN, JUST GOT JUMP-SCARED BY KUMAIL, OHMYWORD. 

Also, that was a weird cut-- Scully opens her mouth to say something, Mulder looks at her, CUT, Kumail face. 

The director was meaning to imply Mulder stopped Scully’s attempted defense with a look, but it only made it seem like one of them said something so cancellable the editors drop-kicked that bit from the final recording. 

I haven’t laughed once .

Welp, Kumail ran off after playing a scared animal control officer for three seconds. 

Pardon, but what was the purpose of that scene?

This kinda feels like a play: in this set piece, the hooker whacks a creature with a purse; in this set piece, Kumail gets spooked by the agents and runs off after hearing a roar; still in this set piece, Mulder whips out his phone and starts… hitting… the… picture… button. 

My thought process:

It's dark at night. 

2. I hear a ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR. 

3. I'm pulling out my gun, not my camera. 

You know why?

There are more tigers in North American than the world combined. 

Just sayin’. 

SCULLY, REINSTALL THE SAFETY FEATURE IN YOUR KEN, PLEASE. 

JUST. PUT. THE PHONE. ON. VIDEO. MODE. 

Oh, wait, he’s a tech goombus who doesn’t know how to take videos. 

THEY SAW A DEAD BODY--

…

THEY SAW A DEAD BODY THROUGH HIS PHOTOS INSTEAD OF NOTICING THE CORPSE RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM?

I’m not mad because this isn’t as mean-spirited as the previous two episodes, but that’s just. That’s just.  

That. 

Wait, how’d they get from Mulder’s camera setting to his photo collage, without swiping or going there or…? He was taking rapid-fire pictures, Scully looks over, says, “What’s that?”, and the camera cuts to a picture that has to be in the phone’s gallery. …What happened-- you know what? Never mind. 

Mulder runs off INTO THE DARK with ONLY HIS CAMERA OUT while Scully is yards behind him WITH THE GUN. 

Solid decision making there. 

My man, if this were a tiger (we’ve already seen it’s the horny Lizardman) or a cougar in heat (well, give Scully a few episodes), you’d probably be very dead. 

I’ve named Mulder-Clone: Ken. He’s cute, he’s having an identity crisis, and he’s as dumb as a rock. 

This fits unintentionally well with his Patriarchy Pants (though they’re wearing him, not of the other way around.) 

Kumail’s here and they both scared each other and now they’re hyper-Ken-focusing on Ken’s wonky phone app and stuff. 

Barbie-- clone Scully-- hears Ken and Kumail screaming their lungs out after getting jumped by Lizardman and only NOW notices Mulder had Marilyn Monroe shimmied off. 

Imagine if this were the end of Mulders career: questioning his life’s purpose, losing the battle to technology, and T-posing, dead, on the ground. 

Ken sounds completely fine when Scully runs up to him asking if he's okay. No wooziness. No nothing. (Kumail, too.)

“Okay. I quit.” Smarty Mr. K. over there (not Ken, but you knew that.)

Monster’s a-running, and Formerly-Mulder springs up and races off with Scully. 

What did that jumpscare accomplish, narratively? What did any of these jumpscares accomplish, narratively?

I know we’re only 10 minutes in, but it’s feeling a little too… scene-scene-scene-scene-scene, jumpscare-jumpscare-jumpscare, phone-phone-phone-phone-phone. T-pose. That was a shakeup, I guess. 

Ken was going to question the guy on the pot (who is, indeed, the Lizardman, btw) but notices Scully’s face and closes the door and walks away with her. 

Strangely, that and the basement are the only scenes, thus far, where Ken was most like Mulder. 

Scully, do you regret putting a battery pack in your Ken doll now?

This interaction is still Ken-not-Mulder, but Scully is kinda recognizable. 

Just realized. Mulder replaced his slideshow with a phone. Now he can inflict them on his partner even in the midst of her autopsies. 

No one is safe. 

THERE’S A MULDER MOMENT, I ACTUALLY SMILED! 

And now it’s gone. 

“So now you’re saying you were attacked by a six-foot horny toad?”

“Woah, let’s keep this in the realm of natural sciences, shall we?”

Um. 

That’s not a Mulder line. 

That’s not even a Ken line, I don’t think. 

Need to think up a new name for Mulder, I guess. 

I figured it out. David’s attacking the lines too vigorously rather than letting them breathe. I’m sure he’ll get there. 

Or Mulder and Scully were swallowed up by a black hole the second after they exchanged “Scratchy beard” niceties. Because that’s the last I’ve seen of them. 

But honestly? Clone. Lives. Matter. 

So, I shall fully support Clone Mulder and Clone Scully living their truth, expressing their lived experiences, and digging through each other’s brains like hairless capuchin monkeys dressed in skin-tight leotards.  

I was gonna say “horny, hairless capuchin monkeys” but I’ve not got a LICK of sexual tension between them this whole time. 

They do say married couples transition from goose-pimply “honeymoon love” to matured, knowing passion; but all I’m getting is the “knowing” and none of the “passion”.  

Right after my point, the two exchanged a little upbeat moment. I’ll give it that; but the passion’s still not there.

WAIT, this episode has the fox-in-the-wall scene? 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. 

I thought that was the doppelganger one. 

‘Kay. Color me intrigued. 

…WHAT is going on with these random, “comedic” scenes?

Desk clerk yells "Monster!", Mulder runs in, guy’s shaking over a bottle, makes up a story, tells Mulder to go back to his room “or I’ll kill ya.” Mulder nods and walks off. 

I’m not getting the fun of this episode, but I’m only 12 minutes in. So. 

Mulder’s snooping in someone else’s room. 

Mulder took someone else’s meds. 

Mulder found an animal head with hollow eyes that led him to a secret room behind the motel room. 

Heh, get it, he’s a Fox looking through fox eyes at Scully. Get it. 

I’m remembering bits from DD and GA’s commentary and how they were cheering him on in this moment. Someone should’ve told them this is Clone!Mulder. 

More proof this man finds burrows in the unlikeliest places:

The manager says he installed those peeping tom hallways after 9/11, and yes that’s being used as an excuse but there’s supposed to be a joke behind it, right?

For instance: Rocky from Jose Chung’s From Outer Space took some political hits, but the jokes were funny and well-written. Here, they're either badly written or… someone’s directing these actors astray. And I know Clone!Mulder and innkeeper man are good actors because they’re doing their best selling this material. Things still feel wonky, unfortunately. 

Mulder’s getting objectified again, Your Honor. He got closeted last episode, he’s “questioning” this episode, and he’s being stared at in his speedo. And he didn't mind one bit.

Innkeeper man’s got closets of his own, too. *badum tssssss*

HOW did Mulder’s phone get a picture of the Lizardman in his human form earlier? In the split-second he and Scully opened the potty stall before turning and continuing their search? I'll even grant that... but a CLEAR one?

Whatever, whatever, whatever. 

Clone!Mulder’s patched his disbelief during the insomnia upgrade.

Clone!Scully unleashed a beast but still wakes up and stays up to hear him ramble. (Here’s the “my Mulder” line and the could-have-been-a-Knick’s-T-shirt moment.)

I do have another nitpick: why is Mulder diatribing here-- trying to convince Scully it’s a werewolf when she’s been saying monster or creature from the get-go? Is it the “werewolf” claim that he thinks she’ll rebut? Or? 

I do like: Scully about to answer, then nearly smiling when Mulder cuts her off. Brilliant touch. Hats off to GA for that second of goodness. 

“‘It defies every known law of nature’-- exactly, Scully, every known law of nature!”

Mulder, she’s agreed with this point since Herrenvolk. She kinda did a mini speech about it. 

He doesn’t know how it came to be, but all he’s saying is, “it’s a MONSTER.” 

She’s ready to go back to the Unremarkable House already, Mulder. She just needed you to nerd out over monsters. 

Which… isn’t that actually the most Scully thing you’ve ever heard? Think about it: she wants to leave the Conspiracy behind, it’s eating her alive, she’s so sad and yadda yadda yadda. Darin says, “Hold up, this girl loves Mulder’s rants and raves” and makes her poke and prod him out of despair with a juicy creature case. And then (hopefully) reaps the benefits. 

Girl’s got a mission. 

And also, this doesn’t mesh at all with the Revival’s canon, but when has that stopped this crazy trainwreck? 

Why’s Scully calling him watered-down-for-FOX’s-approval crazy when she’s been saying creature this whole time?  Does she just… like arguing him? …That’s a stupid question, does she like arguing with him this much? …Again, that’s a--

Mulder spouts his theory, admits he stole stuff from another guy’s room, and tells Scully they can use his meds to track him down. “Well, that sounds like a good investigative plan.” In other words: “And you do so good at beach.” 

Now Mulder wants to go peeping around the motel, for the lols. 

Ken energy, I’m just saying. 

Alsooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo not Mulder, sorry. He’d be curious, intrigued, perhaps roguishly amused by peeping tom corridors; but he’s never taken the time to search places inch-by-inch, top-to-bottom unless they directly related to the case. Is this a nitpick? Probably. But he’s flinging around broken FBI regulations left-and-right, carelessly reckless of all the rules and laws he’s breaking. Sure, Mulder’s a lawbreaker; but not to the extent that it would violate civilian rights. And even if it were fine, he’d be running off to the next lead instead of sticking around to snuffle through a useless one. 

The “Lizardman stabbing himself in the mirror with green glass to break the curse, not realizing it’s him” story doesn’t… really…. Darin Morgan’s writing crackfic at this point. 

Impotency jokes. 

Ahhh, the middle ages: you end up questioning things about yourself or having to pop pills one way or another. 

The comedy keeps failing, I think, because it’s trying too hard. This episode feels like a play (did I mention that earlier?) with dramatic pauses and etc. etc. Not really X-Filesy. 

The psychologist prescribes Mulder a pill (because Mulder believes the Lizardman’s a lizard man), then pops the pill himself the second Mulder leaves… which meansssss he believed, too? Though he doesn’t? 

I get he was supposed to be a crazy psychologist (ala Dr. Spiegel during the Johnny Depp trials), but, again, the comedy flopped. 

“Horny toad lizard man” works at a smart phone shop OF COURSE. Because that’s soooooooooooo clever! Modernization, crises of humanity and identity, get it??? 

Weremonster’s not offensive, but it’s… I’m gonna be honest, it’s not clever, either. 

Why does Scully wear her shirt open almost past her bra line now? Not shaming her, but that doesn’t seem a very Scully thing to do. I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking things. It was just her style, her way, her self-expression; and it feels smudged and lost in this version of Clone!Scully. 

At least she seems more naturally Scully, this episode. Which means she can only be natural in the funny episodes, huh. 

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

Mulder has a gold car? Mulder rented a gold car? There’s a gold car here that serves as middle-age-over-compensation commentary. 

Mulder chastises Scully about the danger of approaching a dangerous suspect without backup then runs off, get it, ‘cuz that’s FUNNY. 

I must have a heart of coal because I’m bored instead of tickled. It’s waaaaaaay better than being angry and tired, though, so. 

“I’ll take it” is giving this experience too many brownie points, so I’ll use “I’m resigned”, instead. 

Here we go, the part where the Lizardman voices Darin Morgan’s gripes with work culture (and I say that because Darin himself said he only works because he has to pay the bills. Which, fair enough, I suppose.)

Wait. Did Lizo Man go from a generic British to an Australian accent? 

Guy tries to stage a cop suicide by green glass at Mulder’s hands and…. I’m sorry, this is kind of a fever dream. I can’t even unpack that logic for some bizarre reason. 

Let me unpack that logic for some bizarre reason: 

Psychologist tells Lizardman the story about breaking the curse by getting stabbed in the appendix. 

It involves the realization that the Werelizard stares at himself in the mirror and realizes he’s the monster. 

Does… does that prevent him from committing suicide? The psycologist’s instructions remain murky. 

Lizardman’s fed up with existence. Decides enough’s enough and goes back to the cemetery. 

Mulder walks up and tries to get him to unburden himself. 

Lizardman tries to bait him into cop homicide by green bottle. 

…How in the world did he think that would happen. 

MULDER. LOST. HIS GUN. Which is probably a wink-and-nod by Darin of the good ol’ days when Mulder lost it constantly. 

This Lizard’s gotta know who Mulder is at this point, and that Mulder would track him down and find him. That’s my prediction. 

Mulder agrees to kill Guy Mann. Guy Mann calls him the only nice human he’s ever met. Of course cut back to Mulder’s face as he insists Guy tell him the whole story, first. 

Scully has no idea where Mulder is, does she. 

I knew the psychologist’s “other client thought he was a werewolf” would play into this. Heavy-handedly. 

The stupid, perfectly placed bush when Lizardman woke the next morning. I can’t even be mad at it. 

He took the not-nudist’s clothes, that explains things. 

The dialogue’s also kind of… juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuvenile. 

Lizardman leaped over the natural order of human life by talking mad game, and Darin glosses over the details with “humans are the best at that.” Ooooooookay. 

Nope, that doesn’t work for me. Not if Lizardman joined a tech shop and got promoted to manager the next day. 

I feel like Darin hasn’t hung around iphone shops much. 

HE COMMITTED A MURDER BECAUSE HE ATE A COW IN A HAMBURGER. Really.

Was this lizard a vegetarian????? Because animals constantly break their own eating rituals if they’re hungry (deer eating baby birds, rabbits, and even human corpses, for example.) I doubt a creature of that size and strength existed only on vegetation, especially if there were food shortages during the natural course of its life (which happens in the wild.) 

But NITPICK ASIDE, he ate his first cow. 

…Why didn’t he go find a head of lettuce and chow down on it? Then realize he’s missing something, eat the chicken from the salad, then go on a meat-eating binge? That would have been kinda funny. 

Oh, he’s an insectivore. 

So, he’s a meat eater. 

And he... uuuuuuuuuuuuugh--

Dude’s a protein eater via the carcases of other living things, not plants. 

Dude didn’t have consciousness until he woke a man. 

So it wouldn’t have mattered to Dude if he ate a cow, anyway, because he’s a carnivore and humans are omnivores. 

So what gives? 

“No one likes insects. Not even other insects.” SO INSECTS HAVE EMOTIONS, LIKES, AND PREFERENCES. YET, YOU ATE THEM. I don’t see sound reasoning for an ethical or moral stance here, Guy Mann. 

Lizardman spent the rest of the day helplessly watching… porn. Just couldn’t help himself. Uh huh. 

Dude, you were an animal YESTERDAY, with no association to human morays or social etiquette or guidelines or….

OH. That’s how the Scully scene plays into this. 

But then that scene’ll be shot because it’s played for jokes-- males wanting to overexaggerate their knotch count-- rather than a very real reality of animals with zero morals when it comes to their procreation habits. 

Let’s see if I’m right. 

Guys, this would have been funnier and-- there’s that word again-- clever if Guy Mann lived like a caveman for a few days then overheard some humans talk about job, bills, and etc. spiraled, thinking he would be stuck as a half-human forever, and resigned himself to the fate of every other human (through the lens of his lizard brain, heh.) 

It’s not supposed to be taken seriously, I know, but Darin always wrote plausibility into his previous scripts. This one feels like he didn’t try hard enough. 

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO wow. 

Guy went to a "witch doctor"-- oops, “a psychologist”-- but stopped taking his prescribed meds because “it just clouded my thoughts” TO WHICH MULDER NODS IN UNDERSTANDING. 

Mulder gets it because, as an Oxford educated psychologist, he could diagnose the other psychologist (who shouldn’t be prescribing meds) as a wack job. 

Mulder stopped taking his meds. 

Which is what Scully asked if he’d done in the intro. 

Which means his depression’s gone away without his meds. 

Which means his depression’s either CURED, BOOM, or he never needed meds to begin with. 

Which means Scully misdiagnosed him. 

And left. 

OR Mulder stopped taking them and was on depression med withdrawal in the beginning of this episode, hence his melancholia…? 

‘Tis a mess. 

Only time to be happy as a human is to spend time in the company of a non-human-- YOU’RE AN ANIMAL. YOU’RE NOT A HUMAN. YOU JUST LOOK LIKE ONE FOR TWELVE HOURS A DAY. 

Also, Daggoo. Yup. There he is. Uhuh. 

Scully was robbed of her first dog by an overgrown lizard and robbed from another overgrown lizard in return. 

Daggoo was let out of the motel and ran off, and Mann felt crushing loss and grief (while looking not quite that) then ran into Mulder and Smarty K and ran to the toilet and got pap shot by Mulder and etc. 

(Also, he ran into the werewolf dude; and Mulder knows the urge to “strangle him and eat his flesh” when it comes to villains and their villainy.)

Hokey. That’s how I would describe this episode. Inoffensive, but new Scooby Doo.  

Wait, he threw his clothes off while witnessing the werewolf man eat another man (get it, it looked like animalistic sex) then but had them on again when Mulder ripped open the stall door and took his pants-down shot. 

What. 

Wait, Mulder’s up-to-date with transgender procedures and terms but not? familiar with gay bars? 

What, did he subscribe to a Queer Life email subscription between episodes, or is that too new-fangled? 

This episode doesn’t know what angle it wants to tackle for Clone!Mulder (forgot that nickname temporarily) and instead becomes a mix of everything at different strengths (that also change depending on which scene.) 

HOW did Guy Mann not recognize Mulder after Mulder took a picture of him on the port-a-potty??? And stuck around to ask him some questions??? 

“That was me, actually.” 

“I thought I recognized you!” 

So. He… diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid? 

OR it was a jackalope head on the wall?

No, wait, it wasn’t a jackalope, Guy Mann just misidentified the animal head on the wall-- and he’s “creeped out” by jackalopes ever since a friend got “gored” by them and GET IT, GUYS, THIS ALL LINKS BACK TO THE BASEMENT WHEN MULDER TALKED ABOUT MOTHMEN AND JACKALOPES. 

I swear, Mulder’s just trippin or suffering withdrawals from his meds. 

Scully said, “We have a creature case,” and he went home and dreamed this all up in a slime pit of sweat. 

HIS DEAD FRIEND GEORGE. 

SO THESE LIZARD PEOPLE HAVE NAMES????

THEN WHY’S HIS NAME GUY MANN?????????????????????????????????????

SO, they have friends and eat insects that have some form of consciousness and consider burgers to be cow murder. 

I need to stop thinking seriously about this plot. 

It’s pit stink Mulder thrashing around in his bed, smiling over speedos and peeping tom tunnels and Scully affectionately calling him crazy-- and that makes the most sense, honestly. 

“I think my phone isn’t working right because guys don’t send me pictures of their junk on it.”

More evidence that this was written not by Darin Morgan but by his middle school aged doppelganger, Marin Dorgan, who split from his body during the stress of having to write for the Revival. 

“Ever since I became a human, I can’t help but lie about my sex life.” Stupid. He’d need a Twitter account, first. 

Mulder’s back to doubting because the entire story’s too silly. To be fair, I do like this beat; and it does align (if you squint at it) with his journey out of depression. BUT it is all too silly, so… kinda think Clone!Mulder’s got a point. 

Mulder smiling over learning that Shakespeare called us all ignorant idiots is a nice touch which I shall now spoil: how did Guy Mann know that? Porn? 

“Fox, man, you’ve gotta put me out of my misery!” Get it, Fox Mann, Guy Mann? Animals, GET IT. 

“You wanted to arrest me for something I didn’t do. Who takes advantage like that? I’ll tell you: a human.” That’s the only comedic bit that landed, for me, and even then it was a lip twitch. His contained righteous indignation got through whatever made the rest of this the way it is! WHOO! 

The guy goes stomping off yelling “Monster!” behind him at Mulder to drive his point home, which drives Mulder to drink. 

“Mulder’s the monster, get it, because he doesn’t know what he is and is just willing to use other people for his own selfish ends?” the plot says, affectionately, with a giggle behind its hand. 

This is the scene where he collapses by Kim Manner’s tomb, isn’t it. 

ARE YOU KIDDING, MULDER HAS HIS THEME SONG AS A RINGTONE. 

MULDER’S HIGH, THAT’S IT. HE’S HIGH OR OVERDOSING ON HAPPY DRUGS, THERE’S NO OTHER EXPLANATION. 

Now that I know this is Ken Mulder’s delirium, it’s going to be interesting to draw unauthorized conclusions about his Alice in Wonderland hallucination. 

Aww, look, it’s Kim Manners. 

Mulder’s got his Patriarchy Pants' cheeks right on Kim’s face. 

Me, ten minutes into the Revival: “Maybe I’m just a fool, Scully. Maybe I always have been.” 

Can’t knock that line too much because it is a Mulder thing to think or say. 

And it still fits into my delirium scenario, so. 

Oh, Kumail’s been turned. Didn’t see that coming. The music’s suspenseful, too. That’s cool. 

There’s no way Mulder should figure this out, but he probably will. 

Oh, he didn’t. 

That’s good. 

Also, Scully’s: “Maybe I miss having a dog. And someone to hold my grudges for me,” could apply to her tendency to own dogs but it also might refer to Mulder who she let “curse God for a while” in her stead in IWTB. 

Also, where was THIS scene hiding? It’s really good. 

Ken Mulder’s hobbling, not running, to his car. ‘Kay. 

Wait, Kumail's not a werewolf?

And Scully's got it all handled???? 

Wait, NO, that makes no sense. AND IT’S ALL EXPLAINED AWAY WITH “I’M IMMORTAL” what. 

Scully went to the animal control shelter because she suspected Kumail was the murderer. 

She lingered with her back to Kumail, letting him have home court advantage. 

HE SLIPPED A NOOSE AROUND HER NECK. 

That’s it, she’s doneso. She’s a 5’2” woman that’s as light as a bird, there’s no way she’s toppling a man, let alone one with a noose around her neck and has distance on his side. 

Yes, I know this was because the transgender woman surprised Guy Mann with her punch, but that doesn’t translate to a stunning twist for Scully to also have the upper hand. She doesn’t have enough meat on her bones, and nowhere near the arm length to stop her attacker. 

Did Guy Mann show up and interfere? Help her out in anyway? Did the dogs rush in and tackle him until she could get up? 

IS SCULLY A DOG WHISPERER????? If so, why did Daggoo bite her????????

I will say: Kumail being the murderer really changes that one scene where he was sneaking up behind Mulder. 

And also… the fact that he worked for an animal shelter, since he started with small animals.

WAIT, this is a normal animal control shelter, yes? That’s what Mulder yelled into his phone, anyway. 

But… there were only dogs in the room when Mulder and the officers arrived. 

So. Scully is a dog whisperer, or she tackled Kumail, loosed all the dogs before he got up, and pinned him (impossible) until the cops arrived. I guess. Or the dogs were loose to begin with. 

Oh, and chickens.

Dogs and chickens. 

Dogs. And chickens. And goats. 

(Were ALL the animals loose??????)

Scully, the farm animal whisperer. A trait she must share with her Wyoming son. 

Welp. There goes that scene. 

Scully approached a dangerous suspect twice without backup (says Mulder, who was Kenning it out in the cemetery with the first dangerous suspect… and the second, if you count him running off and nearly getting offed by Kumail without his knowledge); and excuses it by saying Mulder needed “quality time” with his Lizardman. 

“Besides, I’m immortal.” 

That sounds like the prequel to another poor decision tattooed on your back, Scully. 

Mulder’s not soothed by this pronouncement (obviously), but realizes “If Guy’s story was true--” and runs off into the woods. Again. 

And Scully asks the dog if he wants to go home with her. 

And I question. Why a dog. Why that dog. 

You miss dogs but you didn’t have a tie to any particular dog. And this dog bit you. 

Because he’s Plot Relevant Dog. I see. 

“Woah, I’m not a reptile! That’s racist!”

No it’s not you silly, silly reptile with utterly unexplainable human knowledge and reflection. 

Also, another motif of Mulder just standing there watching another guy undress, casually. 

An aspect of Darin’s writing I hadn’t considered: Mulder knows Guy does odd things for a normal human; but also knows this is normal for Guy and just goes with it, for his sake. Like a good psychologist. Like a decent human. 

But also, he has his limits. 

Also, get it, Mulder’s a man outside mankind, too, who just needs to find himself again. Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit?

“I want to believe,” Mulder says. 

Mulder just needed someone to say they’re glad to have met him, they’re glad to have him in their life. 

So. 

I guess Scully hasn’t said those words yet. 

Guy shakes his hand. 

Mulder watches, stunned, as Guy runs off to hibernate for 10,000 years-- another hallmark of Marin Dorgan’s writing. Ha ha ha, a knee slapper, that one. 

“Likewise,” Mulder whispers, overcome and disbelieving and renewed all in one. 

A nice little heartfelt, cheesy, sincere ending. 

CONCLUSION

What did I just watch? 

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[arcane-vagabond]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Four

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Four

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, talk of courting and mating, FBI, mentions of murder. Think that’s it.

Word Count: 3.87k

A/N: Here is Chapter Four! A whole lot of setting up what's to come, I think, but hopefully y'all still like it! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist

“Are you still feeling alright, honey?” Susan asked you, checking you over. You gave her a small smile as she gave you a once over. Her green scrubs contrasted against her blonde hair, and the wrinkles around her eyes were more pronounced as she frowned at you worriedly. “You’re still taking it easy, right? Remember what Dr. Carson said when he checked you out the other day.”

“I’m fine, Susan. I promise,” you reassured the older nurse. She studied you for a second longer before turning to fix her coffee.

“You know, it’s a real shame about that Morris girl,” she continued. “She was always such a sweet girl. Wasn’t she in your class, Bobby?”

“No, she was a year ahead with Reuben, Nat, and Jake,” he muttered through a mouthful of Cheerios.

“That’s right,” she nodded.

Bob swallowed his mouthful and peered up at his mother. “Are you going to tell us what’s been going on?”

“You know,” she sighed exasperatedly, “I could have sworn I had told you. Or at least I would have if you bothered to answer your phone every once in a while.”

“You could tell me now?” Bob said sarcastically. Susan glared over at him.

“Tone, mister,” she warned before letting out another sigh and leaning against the kitchen counter. “I suppose it’s been a little over two months now since they found the first body. Everyone thought it was just an accident since it looked like a drowning. But then a couple of weeks later another body washed up, and then another one a couple weeks after that. They were all young women about the same age, and they all appeared to have drowned. Maverick was worried that there was a serial killer on the loose, so he called in a favor to Tom. You remember Tom, don’t you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I remember Mr. Kazansky, Mom,” Bob nodded. “He was only the my baseball coach for most of middle school and high school.”

“Such a sweet man,” Susan nodded with a small smile towards you. “We were all sad to see him leave, but when the FBI offers you a job, what person in their right mind says no?”

“So he and that other guy are here because of this serial killer no one told me about?” Bob asked her, eyebrow raised.

Susan scowled at him, but let out a sigh. “Tom and his partner, Agent Simpson, got here about two weeks ago when the last body was found. I was talking to Tom the other day, actually, and he told me that there were signs of a struggle, which is why they got called in.”

“Should he be telling you that?” Bob frowned. She shrugged, sipping from her coffee mug.

“I think they’re holding a press conference today to discuss everything. He wouldn’t have told me if they weren’t already planning on telling everyone, I’m sure.”

“A serial killer,” you hummed, frowning. “That’s really scary, actually.”

“It is,” she agreed, eyeing you. “Which is why I want you to promise me that you won’t go off on your own at night, alright? You should be fine during the day time, especially with the summer crowds, but I want you to make sure you have somebody with you after the sun goes down.”

“I will, Susan,” you smiled.

Bob peered over at you from over his own coffee mug. “I promised Dad that I’d take the boat out with him today. I don’t suppose you wanted to tag along?”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head. “Nat actually texted me last night and asked me if I wanted to go and hang out at the boardwalk today, and I told her that I did. You’ll be okay without me, yeah?”

“‘Course,” he snorted, moving to take his dishes to the sink. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve ditched me for other friends.”

“If you’re talking about that time in sophomore year when I went with Abby and Rachel to the football game after you insisted that you would be a fourth wheel even though we all told you that you wouldn’t be, then this is not the same situation at all.”

“I beg to differ,” he laughed, heading for the back door.

“You can beg all you want, but it’s the truth,” you giggled. “Oh, wait!”

You got up from your own chair, moving to follow him.

“I think I left my bag on the boat last night,” you told him. “I’m going to grab it before I head out.”

The two of you walked down the stone path until you reached the small strip of sand that led out onto the dock.

“You know I’m not ditching you, right?” You asked him, suddenly worried that your best friend really did think you were trying to leave him behind. Bob snorted and looked over at you with a quirk of his brow.

“Of course I don’t,” he said, making a beeline for the boat that bobbed up and down with the waves. “I don’t expect you to tag along with me everywhere. I’m actually really happy that you and the gang are getting along so well.”

“Okay,” you trailed off. “Good. Because I really like hanging out with them.”

Bob chuckled as he stepped onto the boat, turning to face you. “I know. Stay right there and I’ll grab your bag, yeah?”

You nodded, turning to watch the waves as he disappeared towards the back of the boat. You glanced down when a shine of light danced in the corner of your eye. Sitting on the wood of the dock was a collection of more shells and pearls, and you immediately crouched down to take a better look at them. A couple of sand dollars were added into the mix this time and even more pearls of various shapes, sizes, and colors were mixed in with the lot. You picked each one up gently, inspecting them. Your favorite was the beautiful black pearl that rested in the center of the grouping. The oily colors on its surface danced as you inspected it, and you felt your skin prickle in delight.

Your gaze shifted to the breathtaking conch shell that rested near the edge, and you gingerly lifted it up to get a better look at it. It truly was a marvelous sight. One of the best specimens you had ever had the privilege of seeing.

“How much crap do you carry in this thing?”

You whirled around to see Bob grimacing as he made his way towards you with your simple hobo bag.

“I carry just what I need in it,” you replied to him, reaching an arm out to take the bag.

“What are you doing crouched over here?” Bob asked you, brow furrowing as he handed it off to you. He stopped short when he saw the collection of ocean treasures at your feet. He inspected them before moving his eyes up to meet yours.

“Look at these!” You grinned, gesturing down at them. “These are more spectacular than the last bunch! Have you ever seen such amazing specimens? And these pearls!”

“Yeah,” Bob said uneasily, eyes shifting to look out at the water. “They’re pretty great.”

You stood up suddenly, turning to fix him with a small glare.

“What is up with you?” You demanded, hands on your hips. “You love things like this! You’re the one person I know who gets more excited about this shit than I do, and you’re over here looking like someone just told you they were planning on kidnapping me. You did the same thing yesterday!”

Bob’s eyes widened at your outburst before melting into a sheepish expression as he looked away. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck before letting out a sigh, looking back at you with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he sighed. “The shells are great, really. I guess I just have a lot on my mind with the murders and all that.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, replacing the annoyance. Your hands moved to pull him into a hug, one he returned.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, okay?” You told him, squeezing him tight. “I’ll be extra careful to not be by myself at night, so you don’t have to worry about me, yeah?”

Bob didn’t say anything for a moment. He pulled back to look at you, a fond smile on his face as he regarded you.

“I’m always going to worry about you, you know,” he smirked, something serious behind his eyes despite the teasing tone he used. “You’re like the little sister I never had.”

“Bob,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m literally three months older than you.”

He grinned at that.

“Semantics.”

The street was busy as people walked back and forth along the boardwalk, taking in the different rides and stalls as the excitement for summer festival began to grow. Several decorations littered the pathways, all of various sea creatures and more than a few mermaids. You watched the different families, friends, and couples run around to the different events, and you let out a sigh as you checked your phone once again.

Sorry, Skip! Mom needed help with some things at the shop so I’m running late. Give me half an hour!

That had been thirty-five minutes ago, and you hadn’t heard anything. Sighing, you wiped the sweat from your brow, deciding to take a break from the overwhelming heat. You spotted a familiar, little shop and began walking towards it.

The bell above the door rang out as you stepped inside, letting out a breath of relief as the cool air washed over you. The shop hadn’t changed much in the days since you had last been in. There were new novelty items scattered about, but for the most part, Mrs. Cambroni’s shop was still quaint and cheesy.

The old woman appeared from the backroom, giving you a warm smile as she gave you a once over. Her eyes landed on your neck, an eyebrow quirking as she took in the raised skin that still shone in the light.

“My, my, dear,” she hummed, leaning against the counter. “What happened there?”

“Oh this?” You asked, resting your hand over the mark. You suppressed a shiver as a oddly pleasant feeling washed over you. “I had a bit of an accident the other day. I fell of a boat and washed up on shore.”

“Oh, how terrible!”

“Yeah, but I’m okay!” You chirped. “The doctor checked me out and said I was fine, just a little bruised. Said I was really lucky that nothing worse happened.”

“I’m sure you were,” she murmured, eyes still locked on your neck.

“But I guess I must have hit my neck pretty good on some rocks because the bump hasn’t gone away and the algae practically looks like it’s a part of my skin now,” you joked. Mrs. Cambroni blinked at you.

“The…algae?” She asked. You nodded, and she threw her head back in a fit of laughter. You stared at her in confusion until she calmed down, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to laugh,” she said through bouts of giggles. “What brings you by my little shop?”

“Oh!” You cried, moving closer to the counter. “Nothing really, I was just waiting for a friend, but she’s running late. So, I thought I’d pop back in and say hi after I got dragged out of here the other day.”

Mrs. Cambroni gave another hum, a knowing look on her face. She took a sip from the cup of tea she held in her hands.

“Have you found any interesting seashells along the beach since I last saw you?”

“Actually, yes!” You smiled, digging through your bag to pull out the collection you were beginning to compile. “I found these over the last couple of days. It’s strange though, none of these were on the beach. I found a pile of them on our boat and then another pile on the dock this morning. My friend said it must have been the current-”

Mrs. Cambroni’s eyes widened as she coughed up her tea, nearly choking on it as she fought to regain control over her breathing. You reached out a hand to soothe her, and she gave you a grateful smile.

“The current, you say?” She said, barely hiding her amusement. You nodded self consciously, and the old woman shook her head with a chuckle.

“Seems to me like you’ve caught the eye of a sea person, my dear.”

Now it was your turn for your eyes to widen. “What?”

“I’m surprised no one’s told you yet,” she mused, setting her cup down and examining the shells and pearls. “It’s part of the courting rituals for their kind, after all. Just like that intention bite on your neck.”

Your blood ran cold, recalling how your first reaction to the raised skin was that it looked like a bite mark.

“But it’s not-”

“Oh, but it is, dear child,” she smiled, no hint of malice to it, just understanding. “I���m not sure why no one is telling you the truth. Perhaps it’s because you aren’t a local, and they don’t know if you can be fully trusted yet. Or perhaps it’s because you were chosen in a moment of frenzy. Choice is such an important piece of the courting ritual, after all.”

“Is that why you’re telling me all of this?” You asked her, brow quirked. “Because you think I should have a choice?”

“Precisely. How can you make an informed decision without all of the pieces?”

“Alright, then,” You started, deciding to amuse the woman before you, “what is it you can tell me?”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Tell me more about the courting rituals. What are they? What does it entail?”

“Well,” she smiled, “that certainly is an interesting first question. It’s simple really. It starts with the bite mark on your neck. What you have right now is called an intention bite. This bite is to let other sea people know that you have been marked as the intended mate for someone. As long as that bite remains on your neck, every sea person who lays eyes on it will know that you are spoken for. If that wasn’t enough of a hint, it changes your scent as well.”

“Are you saying that I smell different?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded. “But not in an unpleasant way, dear. And as long as that’s the only bite mark that remains on your neck, it’ll fade after a few months along with it. The intention mark is only meant to be a placeholder for the permanent mark.”

“And what is that?” You asked her. Mrs. Cambroni turned her serious gaze to your face.

“That would be the mating mark.”

“And what does that one do?” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why you were entertaining this conversation, to be honest. Maybe it was your longstanding fascination with mermaids that kept you rooted there, listening intently. Or maybe it was because a part of you, one that you were trying your best not to acknowledge in that moment, believed her.

Before Mrs. Cambroni could respond, the bell above the door chimed again, and you both turned to see Nat red faced and out of breath as she looked at you.

“There you are!” She smiled, relaxing as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, gathering your seashells and giving Mrs. Cambroni an apologetic smile. “I was getting really hot and I thought I’d stop in here for a few minutes.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nat said, watching the older woman with a suspicious frown. “I lost track of the time after I texted you.”

You waved to the shop owner as you followed Nat out the door, the sun bathing you in its warm rays. You peered over at your friend, a mischievous smirk on your face as your eyes lowered to her neck.

“Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that huge hickey on your neck, right?”

Nat’s hand flew up to her neck, cheeks flushing as she tried to splutter out an excuse.

“So,” you chirped as your friend continued to recover her speech. “Which of the boys is it?”

“What makes you so sure it was one of them?” She muttered, the red on her cheeks growing more pronounced.

You ignored her. “My money is on Javy.”

“How did you know?” She shrieked, earning a couple of stares from passersby. You laughed at her expression.

“I didn’t until just now.”

Nat let out a long groan, hiding her face in her hands. You rested a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said. “I think the two of you are really cute, and I don’t think the others have figured it out yet. I just see the way you two look at each other when you think no one else is. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

Natasha peeked out from behind her fingers, an oddly thoughtful look on her face as she studied you. Before you could ask, she was straightening up, a smile replacing her embarrassment.

“Do you think you could hold off on saying anything?” She asked you. You nodded, holding out your pinky to her. She wrapped her own around it, and the two of you shook on it.

“Scout’s honor, Nat!”

“Good!” She giggled, peering around the boardwalk. “What do you want to hit first?”

After Nat convinced you to take a ride on the tilt-o-whirl, you were sure you’d never walk straight again. You groaned as you fought to stay upright, nearly crashing into a man as you passed him. Your shoulder bumped his, and you turned around to look at him.

“I am so sorry!” You cried, hands reaching out to steady him, but stopping when you noticed that he was just fine. And staring at you. You gave him a sheepish smile, but the look on his face remained impassive. If the world wasn’t still spinning around you, you might have said that the green in his eyes glowed in the summer light. Natasha laughed beside you, throwing out another apology to the man as she dragged you off.

“Never again, Nat,” you said, suddenly feeling nauseous.

“I’m surprised you managed to make it without hurling!” She cackled, leaning you against the wood railing so you could catch your breath.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” you muttered, leaning over the side.

“Natasha!”

The both of you turned to see the weathered face of the FBI agent and his partner strolling up to you.

“Oh! Hey, Mr. Kazansky!” She called out with a wave. You turned to face them just as they stopped in front of you.

“C’mon now, Nat. It’s Tom, you know that,” the older man chuckled, eyes moving to you. “And who is this?”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, reaching out a hand to shake his. “But everyone just calls me Skipper these days.”

“Ah! You must be the young lady Susan was telling me about the other day,” Tom smiled. “It’s good to finally put a face to a name. This is my partner, Agent Beau Simpson.”

“A pleasure,” the other man said as he shook both of your hands.

“So are you two enjoying the festival so far?” Tom asked, smile still on his face. “This small town isn’t too boring for you, is it, Skipper?”

“Not at all!” You assured him, shaking your head. “I think it’s quite a charming little place! And everyone has been so nice since I got here.”

“That’s good to hear,” he chuckled, eyes falling to your neck. “Where’s the lucky boy?”

You gave him a confused look, and Nat cleared her throat, stepping up.

“It’s so embarrassing,” she started, giving Tom a pointed look. “Javy and I have been seeing each other on the sly for a while now, and I didn’t even think he left a mark. I’ll have to tell him to be more careful next time.”

Tom glanced between the two of you, understanding dawning on his face. He gave another smile.

“Young love is such a wonderful thing, don’t you agree Beau?” He asked his partner, who just smiled in agreement. “Don’t keep it a secret for too long, Nat.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“You two are being careful, aren’t you?” Asked Agent Simpson. Nat’s face could have been mistaken for a tomato from how hard she was blushing. Agent Simpson seemed to have realized what he said and a blush of his own crept onto his face.

“With the murders, I mean,” he explained quickly. Tom let out a chuckle as Nat cleared her throat. “We just got done giving a press conference. No curfew yet, but we’re advising young ladies to not be out at night on their own until we can find whoever is doing this.”

“Oh, of course!” You said, nodding your head in understanding. “We’re being careful! It’s such a shame what happened.”

“You two were there, weren’t you?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, we were,” you trailed off, feeling the nausea return at the memory of the girl’s body as it lay in the sand. You suppressed a shudder. “It was awful.”

“It was,” Beau agreed, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Which is why we don’t want to see anything happen to anyone else.”

“You don’t have to worry about us,” Nat said, a determined smile on her face as she looked at the two older men. Tom chuckled, eyes moving from her to you, still studying the mark on your neck.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t suppose we will.”

You couldn’t help but think back to your conversation with Mrs. Cambroni.

As long as that bite remains on your neck, every sea person who lays eyes on it will know that you are spoken for.

“Well,” Tom started, eyes looking over your shoulder now, “you two ladies have fun! We won’t keep you any longer.”

He made to move, and Agent Simpson made to follow after him. The dark haired man stopped just after he passed you.

“Oh,” he said, “And don’t hesitate to let us know if you see anything suspicious, yeah?”

“We will!” Nat called after him as she started dragging you in the opposite direction. The whole exchange felt weird to you. Why had Tom asked Nat about who the lucky man was when he was looking at your neck? Why did he keep starting at it at all? What had he meant by not having to worry?

You took a deep breath, deciding that you were overthinking the matter and that Mrs. Cambroni’s stories had just gotten in your head. But even as you had made your mind up to ignore your questions, you couldn’t help but feel a pulse come from the base of your neck as if it were begging you to keep questioning.

[lesdeuxxx]

YES BESTIE

fanart for my own fanfic "A Black Widow's Web"

I've had this art in my wips for a while, but it felt natural to draw fanart for my best fanfic

and an excuse to draw humans

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Marcus Pike Masterlist

Born to Run** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Marcus is sent on a vacation to a cozy cabin on a wooded bike trail by his coworkers after his devastating breakup with Theresa. You are training for your upcoming marathon on the same bike trail when one of your runs is interrupted by a creeper on the trail, and you are ‘saved’ by a handsome stranger with a tragic (recent) past… Content Warnings: BDSM

Common Grounds** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Stop me if you've heard this one: a handsome stranger walks into a coffee shop.

Forgive These Bones I'm Hiding | Part 2** (Serial Killer!Marcus Pike x Police Officer f!Reader)

When five paintings are stolen from their frames, an unusual crime for your small-town precinct in Hannibal, Missouri, it's easy for you to project your insecurities about being a female police officer in a tiny, Midwest town onto the handsome FBI Agent from Washington who arrives to help with the case. But as your disposition--and the solid walls you've built around yourself--begin to soften, you quickly find you have bigger problems than the charming man you can't help but develop feelings for. One by one, bodies are starting to pile up. Bodies that all seem to share one connection… You.

How to Kill an Immortal** (Marcus Pike x OFC)

There is a strange magic that surrounds the life of Marcus Pike. Born in Medieval York in the 1300s, he realizes that he is not aging like other people. For seven hundred years, he wanders the earth, falling love over and over again due to his caring nature. When a new art theft case takes him back to York, Marcus searches for a way to bring an end to his unnaturally long life, so he can finally be at peace.

Intimidation Tactics** (Marcus Pike x you x Dave York)

You and your partner, Marcus Pike, are investigating a case that brings you far too close to something much more dangerous than your average art thief.  

le Palais des Roses** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

A Moulin Rouge AU

The Rift** (Marcus Acacius x Marcus Moreno x Marcus Pike x Reader)

Marcus Moreno and the Heroics managed to contain the detonation of a supervillain's black hole bomb in the middle of Washington, DC, but the energy blast created a mysterious crack in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue. Scientists are calling it a rift in time and space. Marcus Moreno calls it a logistical security nightmare. Several weeks after the Rift opens, unusually well-preserved ancient Roman artifacts begin to flood the black market, inundating Special Agent Marcus Pike's team with work. He enlists you, a Classical Archaeologist with a focus on Imperial Roman art and a curator at the National Gallery of Art, to assist his team in identifying the growing pile of smuggled artifacts. Despite the Heroics' desperate attempts to close the Rift, it's only a matter of time before something much larger than gold coins makes its way through the crack in spacetime and onto the streets of DC... Or: Three people named Marcus are smooshed together into the same space.

Again, Again** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Marcus comes home to surprise you with lunch. In the end, who's the most surprised? Content Warnings: Contains CNC

All the Time in the World** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

You’ve never been able to climax without the aid of a vibrator. Due to your insecurities and internalized shame, you rarely involve any toys during sex with a partner, and have been “faking it” for years. You and your new boyfriend, Marcus Pike, have been taking your relationship very slowly–building up a beautiful connection without ever having seen each others’ bedrooms. Two months in, neither of you can wait any longer. How will Marcus react when he discovers the thing you consider to be your deepest, darkest secret?

The Art of the Double-Cross (Marcus Pike x Reader)

“People have been trying to solve the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum theft for decades,” she says quietly, putting her hand on his arm. “Decades, and yet you find the one detail everyone else had overlooked.”

Best Bike Crash Ever (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

After a hit and run at a crowded intersection, you are suddenly very intrigued by your rescuer–the cute FBI Agent who just happened to be a bystander.

The Crucible** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Marcus Pike’s latest case takes him undercover to a BDSM club. When he’s called to participate as a dom in a scene with an unattached sub, will he be able to keep his focus on the task at hand?

Everything** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Marcus is obsessed with your ass.

Lead Me Not Into Temptation** (Priest!Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

[Based on the prompt: "Priest Marcus Pike, praying next to the bed he just annihilated a pretty parishioner in"]

No Net Ensnares Me** (Victorian Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Co-Written with @littlebirdsbookshelf

Of All the Gin Joints...** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

You and Marcus are both trying to re-enter the dating scene after bad relationships, and you’ve been set up on a blind date. You really hit it off, but after a few dates, it seems like Marcus is being really distant. Before you can ask him about it, you run into someone from Marcus’s past…

Pizza Comes Third** (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

You’ve harbored a crush on your partner in the FBI Art Crimes Department for ages. When he accidentally knocks over your purse and a recent sex toy purchase falls out, how will he react? And how does acclaimed boy-scout Agent Marcus Pike know anything about nipple clamps?

Spilled Ink (Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Spring Fling** (Marcus Pike x virgin!f!Reader)

When you and your friend, fellow pre-Law student Emma, plan to go to Washington DC for spring break instead of the typical beach destination, she makes plans for the two of you to stay with her estranged father for the week to save money on lodging. You never expected Emma’s father, a man she says she’s barely seen throughout the years, to be so sweet, so troubled, and so unfairly pretty. Neither did you expect for what you’d thought was a one-sided attraction to turn into a spring fling… or maybe something more.

What A Pair We Make** (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

A series of short scenes depicting a very loving growth and evolution of a dd/lg relationship with Marcus. Content warnings: dd/lg

Date night**

It's me (I'm the problem)

Pregnancy sex with Marcus**

Slow Dancing [Iron Chef 30 Min. Challenge #1]

First Time BDSM Ask**

Kelli's Unhinged BJ Ask**

Marcus Kink Prompts Masterlist (Ask Game)**

Soft Dom Marcus (Brat-Taming Ask)

[timextoxhajima]

Kill Shot: Niki Nishimura

member: enhypen niki

genre: mafia! enhypen

synopsis: you're an fbi agent working for the nishimura cartel as an undercover spy. your cover is blown in the presence of the boss' youngest son.

a/n: it has been a hot minute since i've written something. my writing style has definitely changed, and this fic will not focus on any romance whatsoever. based on the new song by itzy.

w/c: probably like 400

the nishimura cartel is not one for the weak - of course, that's what everybody says about any mafia system or any cartel. but when you're knee-deep in it, involved with their transactions and being a person of importance to their routines, danger becomes a thin line you can cross without even knowing.

japanese mafias and cartels very seldom include the likes of anybody below the age of 16, so when jung dayoon was very carefully sifted into the system, she was very surprised to meet the youngest member - niki nishimura - the middle child of three and the only son of his father.

her focus became keeping an eye on him, as well as his sisters. His older sister is the pride of the family. despite being just one year older than him, her missions and tasks started way before he did. she was 15 when she first held a gun to a man's head, and jung dayoon was there to watch the inherited cold-bloodedness she had.

but it was too much effort to have jung dayoon sifted into the system, so blowing her cover now, at six months, would be too fast. one of the reasons for her reluctance to bust them is that she wouldn't know what would happen to the three children. they may have been in a cartel but nobody could deny that they were living a life most people would've wanted.

they never starved. they always got the newest toys. always sat in expensive cars and always ate the best things. as ironic as it seemed, these children were in a bubble - if the bubble was covered in spikes and poison and killed anybody who touched it.

click.

she clicks the magazine into the gun and sets it down. turning around, she meets eye to eye with niki, who closes the door behind him.

they don't knock here. all the nishimuras never have to knock. dayoon has lost count the number of times she's tried to use her pager and gotten a heart attack.

"i was just looking for you."

dayoon almost feels emotional - the first time she met him, his voice was still that of a boy's. she was also taller than him. now, his voice is low enough to go unnnoticed if he doesn't bother to speak up, and during conversations, she remains a foot away from him to save her neck the ache.

"what is it?" she passes off rubbing the barrel of the sniper with her sleeve to push her pager up her arm.

"you know how my first task's probably coming soon? i just was... just wondering... how did you get in? i mean, if my father trusted you, then you must be good at something."

his words sting. it's been difficult trying to hide the hurt, the sorrow, the anger and every other emotion on the drawing board while working here. dayoon sometimes wonders if she was the right person to be made an undercover agent, but by the time she realised who she was dealing with, it was too late.

she scoffs. "'good at something'? i hope that hasn't been your impression of me the entire time i've been working here."

niki shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets, finding a chair nearby to sit in. dayoon remains standing. it's necessary that nobody sits in a nishimura's presence.

dayoon notices the lack of response - he's not going to ask again.

"i have never missed a shot in my life. 100% fatality. thought you would've already known," she composes herself and places her hands infront of her abdomen.

niki fiddles with the pistol on the table he's at. then, he pauses and tilts his head to look at her, eyes dark through his blonde hair which he hasn't gotten past ever since he got it bleached.

she remembers that day - he looks like he aged two or three years. sometimes, she thinks about how terrifying he is, that if a child can be capable of doing certain things, then what will he be capable of when he's an adult?

niki is one of those people who gets more intimidating as he grows older, for he's following in his father's footsteps more and more each day. and dayoon knew for a fact that if she slipped up, the chances of niki catching her would be much higher than her father or his sisters. he's not the heir to the cartel for nothing.

"my father can find a sniper anywhere. why you?"

dayoon takes a deep breath. because the police force planted me in a spot where your father will see me as the best of the best in his circumstance.

"i don't know, you tell me," dayoon returns a shrug. she knows better than to speak to him in this tone - but niki is sharp. he is ruthless. he can tell when you're lying, and right now, she's already in danger. it's better for her to disguise it with courage, nonchalance.

niki sighs, lacking patience. he drags a finger down his left temple, then adjusts his arm to reach for the pistol again.

"sometimes, just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

his voice is just loud enough for her to hear - but she's having trouble processing his words.

dayoon cocks her head, slightly anxious. "i'm afraid i don't understand."

"i'm telling you... to not be arrogant. arrogance is enough to make a mistake. a fatal one."

she finally frowns, reaching behind her for the gun.

"i'm not here to kill you."

"then why are you telling me all this?"

"because i'd hate to have to blow your guts out tomorrow for my first assignment," niki stands, hand grabbing the pistol and raising it to eye level.

dayoon's heart is in her mouth, and her fingers begin to tremble upon the realisation. there are no thoughts in her head, for she's simply preparing herself for death.

but instead, niki releasing the pistol and lets it swing around his index finger, allowing her to take it.

"your life or the safety of the cartel."

dayoon knows how fast he is with guns, so she doesn't bother taking it out of his hands.

"the cartel is the reason why the city isn't safe."

"and yet half of the cartel have families to feed. you may not see it our way, but why should you ruin those... when i'm letting you go?"

"your father will know."

"my father already knows."

she pauses.

"he was just reserving you. for me. so you can either accept my proposal and keep your mouth shut... or come tomorrow and let me put a bullet through your eyes. your choice."

[therplife]

Lawlight rp.

Hey, so I really want to rp and this is a starter I had, if you like or reblog this I’ll message you, this is solely posted in the hopes  of rping. It’s not a fanfic or anything. There's not much point in reading if you're not interested. Also if you want to contact me directly, which I'd honestly prefer you can email me at roleplayxox96@gmail.com, or message me on Discord at cpf#1288.

(Based on a fanfic I read. Ryuk dropped the Death Note when they were little and because of their age they didn’t get corrupted by it. Another Shinigami dropped a note and is Kira. Light and Sayu are closer than in canon because of this, and they’re also close to Ryuk after several years with him. Light and Sayu are in the middle of their own investigation and Kira is also very interested in light, hence the FBI agents dying. Light and Sayu unknowingly saved Naomi’s life when they ran into her as Ryuk spotted another Shinigami though they didn’t see who it was with. Naomi was understandably spooked by them ambushing her and practically dragging her away and has managed to make contact with Watari. Also if you'd be open to it I kinda like the idea of fem Light but that's not necessary) L. Naomi Misora is in Japan.-W

[lesdeuxxx]

Skrunkly

^.^

[stellar-waves]

staring down the sun [31]

⏯ chapter index

⚠ warnings: mentions of past sexual assault if you squint

. . .

maybe that's when you will know

. . .

He sees her standing on that hill in Ireland, the sun shining behind her. “Connor…” he hears her voice softly call out, and she turns back toward the church in the distance. 

Connor opens his eyes to the rain falling against his face. The church in front of him is familiar and foreign all at once. It’s been almost a decade since he and his brother have been back here. 

His throat tightens as he remembers that day he overheard Smecker confessing that he wanted to help the “two Irish guys” in their vigilante calling. And Rocco, being Rocco, crossed a line that angered Connor to his very core. Not only had the boys agreed that the FBI agent was a good man and not to be touched, but Rocco recklessly threatened a priest in the process. And Connor would’ve killed Rocco right then and there if he had to. Until Smecker’s voice filtered through the confessional booth, and Connor’s anger dissipated enough to let go of the idiot Italian. He stormed out of the booth, not even paying attention as Murphy approached and whatever Rocco said about “the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

As soon as he stepped outside, Connor took a deep long breath. He needed time to think. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking. Rocco clearly wasn’t, and Murphy was stuck somewhere between the two. Connor knew they had to be smart about their next move, which meant calling the most intelligent guy they knew, who had just pledged his loyalty to the Saints. 

Connor inhales slowly, remembering that he doesn’t have to be the one who thinks through everything now. As his brother says his name, a small, subdued smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he follows Murphy and their detective allies into the old church.

“I’m so sorry, boys,” Father Sheehan says softly, approaching them at the bottom of the pulpit. “I tried to stop her, but she disappeared into an alley before I could catch up to her.” The old priest rubs at his forehead, his rosary still draped around his hand as a solemn frown draws down his aging face. “As I rounded the corner, someone had taken her.” 

“Why didn’t ye call the police?” Murphy asks.

Father Sheehan’s frown lifts into a kind, omniscient smile. “A little bird told me to call you boys, that this woman is someone special to you.”

Connor’s entire being drops deep into his gut, his very soul bottoming out as he pictures Elena sitting in that confessional booth, heartbroken because of him. No more hiding, he reminds himself. “Aye, that she is, Father.”

The priest nods, a soft glint in his eyes. “I wish I had more information for you, son.” 

Connor shakes his head, trying to shake the urge to cry. He has to be his old self, who he used to be before he fucked everything up. If he has any chance of saving Elena, he has to hide his feelings one last time. 

But Murphy’s hand resting on his shoulder suddenly breaks him. A tear escapes down Connor’s face as Murphy acknowledges the priest on his behalf. “Ye’ve helped plenty, Father. And we appreciate ye telling us.” He guides Connor off to the side, just the two of them, as he drops his tone. “What do ye think?”

As far as is needed. Da’s voice echoes in Connor’s head, and he can see it reverberate within Murphy. He wipes a hand over his face. “I think Obsidian took her.”

Murphy hesitates, arching an eyebrow. “Could be a trap…”

“Aye,” Connor exhales, feeling his confidence seep back into his veins. “Which is why we stick to the plan, yeah?”

. . .

The plan poses a considerable risk, placing the boys in the middle of a political rally in daylight, with hundreds of people around. But, even as Smecker tried to give them a chance to call it off, Connor smiled and felt that long-lost sense of faith lights up in his eyes. He patted Smecker’s shoulder as the former detective exhaled slowly, “It’s just…” Smecker paused, pressed his lips together, and admitted with sympathetic eyes, “I know she’s worth it.”

Connor blushed out of embarrassment and regret. Despite everyone’s reassurances, he still couldn’t shake feeling responsible for them. And finding Elena was only part of the plan…the rest is for the greater good, one last time. 

“It’ll be worth it to end this,” the Irishman added, unable to bury the touch of dread in his tone. 

Smecker slides the van door shut, leaving Dolly and Duffy to split off while the twins carefully approach the park. As they get closer, Connor and Murphy silently walk away from each other, staying within each other’s eyeline but maintaining a safe distance that will not draw suspicion.

The rally roar grows, and Connor spots a few handwritten signs in the air that contrast the crisply printed campaign signs. He suppresses the smile that threatens his face when he sees what the signs protest…

LET THE SAINTS BE FREE

GO HOME HAWKINS

BRING THE SAINTS TO WASHINGTON

NO SAINTS = NO JUSTICE

With alert eyes, Connor scans the crowd and the suits standing on the stage. And there’s that same arrogant smile he had seen on TV. 

“The Saints are not worth your worship!” Hawkins declares into his microphone, his hands firmly grasping the sides of the podium. “The only way to stop this violence is by stopping their growing body count!” A mixture of reactions roars from the crowd, some agreeing with the politician and others booing him. Hawkins’ staff on stage with him all clap and nod energetically, except for the young woman standing off to the side. 

She shifts her weight, her face cringing slightly as she claps with less vigor than her counterparts. Connor narrows his gaze onto her, studying her and wondering what she knows. The woman flinches again as Hawkins raises his voice more. “Boston deserves better! America deserves better! We can stop crime without the help of these vigilantes! Vote for me, and I will make sure the Saints go back where they belong…behind bars!”

Connor can taste the bile at the back of his throat, knowing that Elena is right…there’s no going back to prison; they will be killed. A part of him is strangely okay with that, but not yet. He has work to do. And if he can die doing the right thing, then so be it. 

The crowd’s mixed reactions increase exponentially as Hawkins raises his arms. “Vote for me, and America will be safe!” 

That’s when Connor sees the single punch thrown in the middle of the crowd, sparking a riot. 

He and his brother have seen it before: in Belfast, when they were visiting family; outside Fenway, when the Yankees creamed the Red Sox; and especially in prison, when a guard overstepped their power with an inmate. All three of those times, the MacManus brothers came out with black eyes, bloody gashes over their knuckles, and a smirk on their lips that read like a fucking badge of honor. 

As the chaos grows around him, Connor focuses on the politician and the suits surrounding him. Hawkins proves to be a damn fool as he tries to brush off his security, hellbent on being the single voice heard amongst the madness. But as a handful of protestors make their way to the stage, Hawkins is whisked away while uniformed officers confront the crowd.

Connor spins around, suddenly face-to-face with a young woman in a black suiting dress with a HAWKINS FOR CONGRESS campaign button pinned to her jacket—the same woman standing on stage moments earlier. He quickly grabs her by the arms, holding her tight as he moves them through the crowd. “Don’t say a word, don’t look at anyone, just keep walking,” he orders firmly, tightening his grip on her. “I’ll get ye out of here so long as ye agree to help me.” He keeps his eyes ahead but sees in his peripheral that the woman nods wordlessly. “Good.”

. . .

“This isn’t part of the plan,” Smecker warns as the boys slide the van door shut behind them. 

“We had to improvise,” Murphy says, always quick to defend his brother as they handcuff the woman.

Bloom shares the same concerned look as Smecker, and Connor swallows hard. “I’ll take care of it,” he assures. Somewhat convinced, Bloom shifts the van into gear and drives away from the alley. 

Connor turns back to the young woman, and her brown eyes widen once the realization hits her. “Holy shit…you’re the Saints.”

He holds up his hand, lowering his voice to calm her down. “It’s okay, lass. We won’t hurt ye. Ye gonna help us, yeah?”

She rubs her face, the metal clinking around her wrists as panic starts to surface. “I’m just an aide! I don’t know anything!”

“Connor?” Murphy’s voice rises. His eyes narrow, cautious of what the usually smarter MacManus has done by capturing the poor girl. 

Pressing his lips together, Connor turns back to their hostage, softening his face as he places his hand on her shoulder. She flinches at his touch, and he sees the fear grow in her eyes. Something about her feels…like he should know her. “What’s your name, lass?” he asks gently. 

The van rocks as Bloom drives it around a corner while Duffy continues scrolling through the woman’s cell phone. 

Blinking, the woman bites her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and Connor smiles modestly. “My name’s Connor. And that’s my brother, Murphy, though I think ye already figured that out…” The grin, coupled with a small laugh escaping her mouth, gives Connor the tiniest sense of victory. God damn MacManus charm still works.

“Natasha.”

That feeling he can’t quite put his finger on grows stronger. “Are ye Russian?”

Her face falls back into worry as she stalls on how to answer. 

Connor takes a chance on a hunch and asks in Russian, “Did you work at a club in New York about nine years ago?” 

“How did you…how did you know that?” She strains her neck to look at Smecker in the front passenger seat. “Oh God, it was you…you’re that FBI agent!” 

Smecker immediately glares at Connor. “Well, this just keeps getting better and better, boys,” he states with that famous sarcastic tone. 

Connor removes his stocking hat, realizing that Natasha was part of Elena’s undercover operation, bringing another unexpected link. He ruffles his fingers through his hair and looks at her with a kindness she doesn’t seem to recognize. “Look, Natasha, we’re trying to find our friend...” He swallows hard, placing his hand over his heart. “My friend,” he corrects. “Do you know anything about a woman—”

“That CIA girl?” she interrupts, almost eager to help. “I haven’t seen her, but I know Obsidian has her—” she stops, afraid she’s said too much. 

And that’s it. That’s all the confirmation Connor and the others need to keep going with the rest of the plan. His eyebrows press together as he raises his hand, gesturing reassuringly. “It’s okay, lass. What else do you know?”

She bites her lip with remorse. “They said they needed the CIA girl, that she’s ‘part of the plan.’ And I think they’re holding her still here in Boston.”

“Can you show us?” Murphy inquires.

Natasha nods, “There’s this place behind Hawkins’ campaign headquarters. But I doubt she’s there, otherwise I would’ve seen her. At least, I hope I would’ve seen her.”

As Connor stares at the young woman who can’t be much older than 30, that knowing feeling sinks in his chest once more. He hears Elena’s voice in his heart, telling that story again, so with a deep breath, he leans forward. “I know what happened to ye in New York.” Natasha narrows her eyes, and Connor lowers his voice more, speaking in Russian, “I know what happened with Nikolai.”

The color instantly drains from her face. Her mouth hangs open as she struggles to respond, let alone react. Her eyes fall away from Connor, darting back and forth while he says her name softly with growing concern.

Finally, with a small Russian voice, she confesses, “It’s happening with Hawkins, too.” 

. . .

⏮ [30]

[32] ⏭

[the-book-queen]

Hide your wallets, it’s that time again! #TBQsBookDeals

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Age gap. Surprise, her mysterious hookup at a club turns out to be her boss. He's the owner/master craftsman of a furniture company, she's his personal assistant. High heat, low conflict

Contemporary Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3nzZMEr 

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1st POV. Her dream is to become a criminal analyst. They had a wild 1NS, the best she's ever had . . . now he's not only back in town for the summer, but living next door.

Contemporary Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3Klkwsm 

FREE ✦ Bound to the Bachelor by Sarah Mayberry

Best friend's older brother. She's organizing a Bachelor Auction, and ends up winning a date with him.

Contemporary Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3KnI13P 

$0.99 ✦ Wolf by Rebecca Zanetti

She's an FBI agent (human) asked to consult on a case in the middle of nowhere. He's the enforcer of the wolf pack in town.

Paranormal Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/40yaFFl 

$1.99 ✦ Mistress by Midnight by Maggie Robinson

Childhood friends to sweethearts until he had to marry to save his estate. Years later, he's a widower and seeks her out.

The rest of the series is on sale and in KU.

Historical Romance (MF) | https://amzn.to/3ZxBdVG 

 Putting these lists together takes time. If you appreciate this content, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi. http://ko-fi.com/danielletbq

[addictiedtocrimedrama]

26 Years - Chapter 1: Prologue (part 1; because Tumblr won't let me post the story as a whole)

Summary: A CMBB AU fic. Jack and Clara haven't told their coworkers a lot of things about their home life and how they have actually known each other for 26 years. First chapter is a bit of a time-line. Please R&R!

A/n: So this chapter is a to the main story. I should let you guys know about a few things before reading; this is fic is based on a whole heap of my head canons, the IRT was never disband, Mac Taylor from CSI: NY is mentioned partly because he's related to Jack (one of my head canons), Karen is not Jack's wife but his sister, Millie and Josie are twins, the characters may seem OOC at times, I added an OC with the surname Garcia but she's in no way related to Penelope Garcia from the mother ship, the program mentioned is something I made up because I didn't really know how to explain how two twelve-year-olds (the OC and someone who will be mentioned later) become official FBI agents and are part of the IRT, the Covid-19 Pandemic never happened/s (oh how I whish I lived in this Alternate Universe), I also de-aged Jack and Clara to fit the time line I made, I got the format and inspiration of this chapter/title from another fic on FanFiction.net called "29 Year", and lastly please don't kill me if it's not a good story this is my first fanfic.

A/n2: WARNING I DON'T ONW CRIMINAL MINDS: BEYOND BORDERS OR ANY OF THE CHARACTER EXPECT FOR THE OC's THEY BELONG TO ERICA MESNER AND CBS.

A/n3: Any and all mistakes are mine.

A/n4: check out part 2 here (this a/n is specifically for Tumblr only)

gif credit goes to @shannyfishwriter bucause it's from their blog where I saved this gif

Jack Garrett is a secretive man. That's how he'd always been. Sure, he sometimes mentions things from his home life, but that's not often and that's how it's been for the last 26 years. The people whom he works with don't know what kind of life he led outside of work or what kind of guy he was. However, there is one exception, and she knows him better than anyone else on the team. Her name is Clara Seger-Garrett. Their colleagues know her as Clara Seger and as far as they know she had just returned from a 2-year bureau sabbatical after the death of her brother. Section Chief Cruz, Emma, and Lisa know about Jack and Clara's situation and private life. Section Chief Cruz knew when he became Jack's partner in 1998. Emma knew all along, even before she joined the team because she is their daughter. And Lisa knew since she stays at their place because her aunt and sisters live in New York and since it is a long drive, she doesn't want to ride the subway because she was still traumatized from a previous time she rode a transit.

Jack was Born Jackson Taylor in 1963. He had an identical twin brother named McCanna "Mac" Llewellyn and a younger sister named Claire who was 3 years younger than him and Mac. Sadly, when he and his brother were 4 months old, a couple by the name of Jeanna and Jason Garrett decided to kidnap little Jack and raise him as their own. Thankfully, in mid-1996 he was reunited with his biological family with the help of his then-fiancée Clara who he met in 1977 at their local high school. Later that year Jack and Clara who were both 26 got married. 1997 Clara gave birth to their first child; a little boy. They decided to name him Ryan Daniel Garrett. In early 1998 Jack and Clara moved to DC and Jack joined the IRT and that's when he met his partner Mateo "Matt" Cruz. The two got along well and that's when he met Clara and the kids. He knew about Jack's life and childhood but kept it a secret as per Jack and Clara's request.

In mid-1998 Clara gave birth to Jack Cade Garrett jr. His middle name was Clara's father's first name. A year later, Jack was made the Unit Chief of the IRT. Clara later joined the IRT herself in early 2002 with Jack's sister Karen to babysit Ryan and Jack jr. when they had a case. In mid-2002 Clara gave birth to twin girls. The eldest girl was named Millicent "Millie" Hope Garrett and the younger girl was named Josephine "Josie" Pearl Garrett. When she had to on maternity leave the then Section Chief Strauss, Jack, and she used the cover that she needed to head back to New York to take care of her mother who just had a stroke to explain her almost three-month absents. Three years later, Clara got promoted to Supervisory Special Agent.

[lesdeuxxx]

I wanna pull Strahm by his hair while I @$#*%*>\!|=£ him in the *79$2927@$@$& So hard that he 💦🩸‼️👹😜👹🪚🖊️👈💨🦅🫥🎇🇺🇸🩸💦🫗

Yk what I mean?

Thinking about Strahm’s hair…save me coked up white boy…

[uncpanda]

Man In the Mirror

Prompt: Man in the Mirror 

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Fem!Reader 

Requested by: @doctorsteeb

It’s the middle of the night when you hear the door open and close, followed by your husband’s large boots scuffing against the floor. You debate staying in bed and waiting, or just running to him. It takes you three seconds to decide on the latter. 

You toss the covers to the side, and take the steps two at a time. And because Derek knows you, he’s waiting at the bottom step. He looks exhausted, but there’s still so much love in his eyes. He opens his arms, and you just skip the bottom three steps, leaping into his arms. He catches you; still strong. Always strong. He crushes you to him, and spins you in a circle, before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“There’s my Sweet Girl.” 

You tighten your hold on him, as he sets you down. Your toes graze against the wood floors, but you don’t let go of each other for several minutes. When you feel good, you give him a squeeze and pull back. You keep your hands on his chest though, “You caught him.” 

He shakes his head, “We barely did anything. The FBI on the other hand. These profiler guys came in, and it . . . it took them days. Days to catch a killer we’ve been hunting for six months.” 

You can tell this is going to be a story. You push him towards the kitchen, and the two of you start moving around the kitchen, heating up the leftovers you had saved him from dinner. Once everything is good to go, you settle at the kitchen table. He takes a bite, and closes his eyes in bliss. Personally, you don’t think your cooking is that great, but Derek always acts like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

You nudge his foot to start his story when he’s halfway done, “These guys, the Behavioral Analysis Unit, come in, and just by looking at the crime scene and based on statistics narrowed down the guys sex, ethnicity, and age. And they were able to predict his movements. It was amazing.” 

He’s holding something back. You can always tell when he’s doing that. You’ve been best friends since childhood, you had held his hand at his father’s funeral and the two of you hadn’t let go for nearly twenty-four hours. You’d been high school and college sweethearts, and you’d gotten married a month out of college. You knew Derek Morgan better than you knew yourself. 

You lean your arms against the table, and wait. “What’s that look?” 

“What look?” 

“That one, on your face.” 

“My face is my face Derek.” 

His eyes narrow, and he takes another bite of food, before giving in, “I might have made some observations that impressed them.” 

“Annnd?” 

“They offered me a job pending my performance at the FBI academy.” 

Your jaw drops, “That’s amazing. You have to do it!” 

He laughs, “You have lost your mind.” 

“How?” 

“I can’t just go off and become a federal agent.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well, for one we’re married.” 

You shrug, “So. I’d go with you.” 

“You have a job.” 

You smile sweetly, “True. A job that I’m so good at, that I can get a new one anywhere. Being in Tech does that. Not to brag or anything.” 

He smiles, “Go ahead and brag. That job provided for us until I made team lead in Swat. We also have kids. Two little girls. They have lives here.” 

“They’re three and one Derek. As long as you and I are there, they’re not going to care.” 

“Fine. I didn’t want to pull this one, but our mothers.” 

You freeze at that. Because your husband has a point. Your mothers lived for their granddaughters. “Simple, when we move, we also change our names.” 

He leans back in his chair, all chase of joking gone, but his usual smile is still there, “Sweetheart. . .” 

“Derek. . . do you remember when we were in high school?” 

“What specifically?” 

“It was after school one day, career day, and we had just heard from the Chicago police department. And you turned to me, as we were going home and said, I’m going to join. I’m going to be like Pops. I’m going to make a difference. Because you dad always said . . .” 

“When you want to  make a change, you have to start with the man you see in the mirror. It is so not fair that you can parrot back every word I ever said.” 

“You do the same with me. If you want this Derek, we’ll do it. We’ll make it work.” 

“It means time away from you and the girls. It means putting those plans we had for another baby on hold.” 

“Your plans. I wanted to wait longer anyway.” 

You both laugh. “I love you something fierce Sweet Girl.” 

You move to him, and slide onto his lap, and kiss him, “I love you too Derek Morgan.” 

[fortheloveofwonderland]

can I request a n angsty 👥💀🔫🤫📚!! I would love to see what you come up with!!

Wow we have kicked this off with some heavy angst! This does not have a happy ending.

Send me emojis for my milestone celebration and I’ll write you a blurb!

👥 friends to lovers

💀 character death

🔫 hostage situation

🤫 secret relationship

📚 student / teacher

CW - swearing, age gap between consenting adults, hostage situation, guns, blood, death of a major character.

WC - 2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justice

The second you’d stepped into Doctor Spencer Reid’s classroom on the first day of the semester, he had an overwhelming feeling that he needed to know you.

You were older than most of his other students, but still probably too young for him to lust after you the way he did.

But he couldn’t help himself. He found you intrinsically fascinating, from the way you knew all the answers to his questions to the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him.

One day after class you brought him coffee and he sat drinking it while you quizzed him on his time at the BAU.

You wanted to be a profiler and had so many questions about his former job. If truth be told he loved talking about it, but he loved talking to you about it more than anyone.

You were genuinely interested in his stories from his years with the FBI, hanging off his every word.

And when time came for his next class, you clearly still wanted to know more as you asked him for coffee again.

He was dumb to do anything but agree. He found you hypnotising, easily getting pulled down the rabbit hole of your creation.

But he didn’t care one little bit.

You became something akin to friends. You went for coffee between classes and after a while started spending your weekends together at museums and bookstores.

After an evening spent at the theatre at a Forgein Film Fest, Spencer had kissed you for the first time.

It had happened out on the sidewalk outside the theatre while you were in the middle of asking if he wanted to get some food. Half way through your sentence he’d silenced you with his lips.

Dinner had been bypassed in lieu of going to his apartment, which was conveniently right around the corner from the movie theatre.

Food became the furthest thing from your mind when Doctor Spencer Reid was undressing you and leading you to his bed.

You had to keep your relationship secret, although you were of age, student / teacher relationships were heavily frowned upon and neither of you wanted to risk trouble.

You both liked the secrecy though. During classes your eyes would meet in knowing looks just for the two of you.

No one needed to know, it was your little secret.

For close to eight months, everything was perfect between the two of you. Spencer felt like the luckiest man in the world. He had the woman of dreams and a job he loved, one that kept him out of harm's way.

Or so he thought.

In giving up the BAU Spencer had been lulled into a false sense of security. He stupidly believed the danger in his life was over now he wasn’t an FBI agent.

He should have known better.

When he saw the man enter his classroom half way through class that day, the hairs had stood on the back of his neck immediately. There was something wrong.

Students turned up late for class all the time, but never this late. And he was too old to be taking Spencer’s class, probably around Spencer’s age and Spencer was sure he wasn’t another professor.

Spencer was sure he knew a split second before the man pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans what was going to happen.

Instinctively Spencer reached for his own gun which hadn’t sat at his hip for some time now.

He glanced up at you, seeing the fear riddling your gestures as you looked back at him. But he had no way to save you. He wasn’t a gun carrying FBI agent anymore. He was a simple professor.

“Everyone on the ground!” The man yelled, his voice echoing around the auditorium.

Everyone quickly did as they were told. Everyone except Spencer.

“Calm down,” Spencer held his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” The man spat, gun trained on Spencer. “On the ground.”

“No.” Spencer took a couple of tentative steps forward. “No, we can talk about this. I was an FBI agent, I can-“

“You’re not a fed.” The man’s eyes bulged in anger.

“Former. But I can get you out of this. If you just turn around right now we can just forget-“

“Shut up!” The man yelled, turning the gun and shooting it at the wall.

Screams and cries filled the room at the sound of the gunshot. Your head whipped up from where you’d been laying on your front on the floor, needing to check it wasn’t Spencer who had been shot.

You breathed a shaky breath when you saw him unharmed.

“Tell me your name.” Spencer took a few more steps closer to him. “I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

The gun was pointing back at Spencer now. Spencer lost count of how many times he’d had guns pointed at him, honestly it barely phased him.

“Toby.”

“Ok Toby,” Spencer stepped closer still. “Let’s talk.”

You watched from the floor as Spencer got closer and closer to the lunatic. Your heart was hammering against your chest at the sight of the gun trained on your boyfriend.

This couldn’t be how you lost him. You’d barely even had a chance to begin, he couldn’t be taken from you yet.

But you also knew he’d been an amazing agent, and if anyone could talk this man down, it was him.

“I don’t want to talk.” The man spat, now right in front of Spencer. “Talking is the last thing I want to do.”

“Toby, I understand you’re angry but this isn’t-“ Spencer was cut off when Toby slapped him around the side of the head with the butt of the gun.

Spencer groaned, stumbling backwards a little from the impact.

The whimper that left your lips was completely involuntary. But it garnered the attention of the gun wielding psychopath.

“What was that?” He looked around the faces of the students on the floor before landing on you.

Your body shook as he came closer to you, the gun now aimed at you.

“On your feet.”

“Leave her alone.” Spencer spat.

Toby ignored him.

“On. Your. Feet.”

You were sobbing as you pushed yourself up, your legs shaking and barely able to hold you.

You looked over at Spencer, he had blood trickling down the side of his face.

Toby looked between the two of you, the looks you were giving each other were not lost on him.

“Oh, well isn't this precious”. He snarled menacingly. “Is Professor Reid boning his student?”

“It’s Doctor Reid.” Spencer couldn’t help himself. “It’s not like that. It’s not…”

He trailed off and looked at you, even with tears streaming down your cheeks you were the most beautiful woman in the whole world.

“I love her.” He said, never taking his eyes off of you.

You never dreamed that the first time Spencer would tell you he loved you would be under these circumstances. The joy those words should have brought you was short lived given the madman and his gun staring at you.

“I love him too.” You sobbed.

“How cute.” Toby scoffed. “Such a shame one of you is going to die today.”

“No one needs to die, Toby. Just tell me what it is you want and I can help you. Please, no one needs to die.”

Toby turned his back on you and focused solely on Spencer.

Spencer knew he just had to keep Toby talking long enough for help to come.

And help was coming.

As soon as Spencer felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck when Toby entered his class room, he’d hit the speed dial button on his phone in his pocket.

Speed dial number one. Emily Prentiss. He’d never gotten around to reprogramming it and he was so grateful for that now.

The BAU would be on their way. He estimated they could get here in a half hour if they hurried. He just had to keep a handle on the situation until then.

“You know what?” Tony grinned manically. “Everybody who isn’t in love with Doctor Reid, can leave.”

Sounds of confusion filled the room and soft shuffling. No one wanted to risk getting killed.

“GO!” Toby yelled at the students before tossing some rope at you. “Tie him up.”

You looked at Spencer who nodded as he made his way to sit in the chair behind his desk.

One by one the terrified students got up and hurried out of the auditorium while you made your way to Spencer on shaky legs.

“It’s going to be ok.” He whispered to you as you worked on tying his arms behind his back. “The BAU are on their way. It’s going to be ok.”

Once the room was empty and Spencer was tied to the chair, Toby inspected his bindings to make sure he couldn’t escape before tying you to another chair.

“Why are you doing this?” Spencer asked.

“Justice.” Toby grinned, pointing the gun back at Spencer.

“Justice?” Spencer scoffed.

“You took away someone very dear to me, Doctor Reid. Someone who I loved very much. Maybe I should return the favour?” He quickly spun and pointed the gun at you, causing you to whimper.

“Stop being cryptic and tell me what you’re talking about.” Spencer tried to keep his cool.

When the gun was pointing at him that was easy for him to do. But when it was pointing at you, cool was the last thing he felt.

“She’s so pretty, Doctor Reid. A little young for you?” He came closer to you and you wiggled in your chair, pulling against your bindings.

“Leave her alone.” Spencer spat.

Toby ran the fingers of his free hand along your jaw, making you squirm.

“How is she in bed Doctor? I bet you can’t believe a young, beautiful student would want to fuck a washed up piece of shit like you?” He quickly spun to Spencer again.

“I’m a very lucky man.” Spencer kept his voice levelled.

If he could keep Toby focused on him and not you then he could remain calm.

“She’ll move on. She’s young, she’ll bounce back. Sure, she’ll mourn you but she’ll find someone else.” He got closer to Spencer, until the gun was touching Spencer’s forehead.

Spencer knew at that moment there was no way out of this. He knew as the cool metal touched his skin that this was most certainly how he was going to die.

“I don’t want her to mourn me. I don’t want her to be sad. I want her to move on with her life.”

“Spencer…” you whined, tears still heavily falling from your eyes.

“Before you kill me, just tell me why. At least tell me what I’m dying for.” Spencer ignored you.

Toby smiled sardonically, pressing the gun harder against his forehead.

“It’s justice.” He shrugged. “Justice for Cat Adam’s.”

Spencer didn’t have a chance to ruminate on Tony’s words.

The trigger clicked and then the sound of gunfire filled the room.

You screamed, pulling so hard on your bindings that the chair tumbled and you fell to the floor.

Blood trickled from the hole in Spencer’s forehead as his lifeless body slumped over in the chair.

“SPENCER!” You screamed, sobbing against the hard floor. “Spencer!”

Everything that happened after that was a blur.

The BAU swarmed the place and arrested Toby while someone who told you his name was Luke untied you and helped you up.

You freed yourself from him, running over to the dead body of the man you loved.

You sobbed against his chest, his blood getting all over you but you didn’t care.

Eventually you were pulled away and put in the back of an SUV.

Numerous people tried to ask you what had happened but you couldn’t speak. You were catatonic.

In time it would get easier. In time you would stop being haunted by Spencer’s lifeless form in your sleep. In time you might even move on.

But although you didn’t die that day, a part of you did. And you’d spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been of your life with Doctor Spencer Reid.

[letarasstuff]

Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.