#yes Virginia is missing a finger

[northduhcodeuh]

asking publicly bc you get suspicious too easily 😡

can we get some PA x VA art up in here🤨

Maybe stop loving Iowa suspiciously 😒🙄/j

It’s too early for Penn and Ginny to deal with Mass right now. It was not in fact wonderful. Two old idiots, love them.

Handwriting sucks when drawing 👍

VA:“Mass dumped the tea into the harbor”

PA:“Wonderful…”

[criminal-act7]

The Worst

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: angst and nothing but angst. Smut is just a bonus.

Summary: You left the BAU 4 years ago in pursuit of a new career. You and Spencer made the long-distance work until you couldn’t. Two months after the breakup, Spencer and you meet up for closure.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f), fingering

Notes: it's been so long since I've written smut, so I'm kinda rusty. Low key I had Don't Smile by Sabrina carpenter in mu head now. I hope you guys enjoy!

Two days ago, everything was perfect. You had returned to D.C. to visit your old friends and colleagues at the BAU, and of course, to see your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. It had been two years since you left the BAU to study music theory in the Twin Cities, and now you were about to start teaching in Minneapolis. While you missed Spencer dearly, and he missed you, too, the long-distance visits hadn’t been enough. But this time felt different. 

Spencer surprised you with a romantic dinner, and just when you thought it couldn't get better, he proposed. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, knowing Spencer’s cautious nature meant the timing had to be just right. But when he finally asked, your answer was easy. Yes. Of course, yes.

Now, curled up in his arms on the couch, you feel the warmth of his presence, the joy of being together again. But tonight, as Spencer begins to talk about the future, you realize that your dreams may not be as aligned as you once thought.

“You’re not serious right now,” you say, disbelief threading through your voice.

“I am,” Spencer replies, his gaze steady on yours. He gently brushes his fingers across your knuckles.

“Spencer, I can’t just drop everything and move back to D.C. I just started teaching in Minnesota.”

“I know, but if we act now, we can get this amazing house—”

“Wait, what? You’ve already been looking at houses?”

He averts his eyes for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I found one. It’s perfect for us. There’s even a wishing well in the backyard. We’re getting married, Y/N. Why not plan for the future?”

“We got engaged two days ago! Spencer, we have time. We don’t need to rush.”

“I know,” he says, his voice softening, “but I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Besides, we don’t know what could happen.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I get it. I used to work at the BAU, I understand. But I don’t want to give up teaching. This is something I love.”

“You don’t have to give it up,” Spencer says, leaning forward, trying to bridge the gap between you. “You could teach in D.C. or even Virginia.”

You shake your head, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “Spencer, I’m not leaving Minnesota. These kids need me. Music gives them a creative outlet. It helps keep them out of trouble.”

He pauses, his voice quiet now. “What about me?”

Your heart tightens at his words. “What about you? We text every day, we talk on the phone, and we video chat when we can.”

“It’s not the same,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. 

“If you miss me so much, you could come to Minnesota,” you offer with a hopeful smile. 

“And do what? Teach?” He lets out a small laugh, but there’s no real humor in it.

“You’d make a hot professor,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t land. 

“I don’t want to teach, Y/N. That’s your dream, not mine.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m staying in Minnesota,” you reply. “This makes me happy. I’m finally doing something meaningful, something that fulfills me.”

“You were doing meaningful work before,” Spencer argues, his voice rising slightly. “You saved lives. You were a great profiler.”

“And how many lives did we lose? How many victims never got justice?” Your voice wavers. “I wasn’t happy in that life, Spencer. Not like I am now.”

He exhales, his frustration evident. “So, how do we make this work? You in Minnesota, me in D.C.?”

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I thought we’d figure it out.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t just ‘figure it out.’ What, do you think we can hop on planes every weekend, or after I finish a case?”

“Well, if you didn’t have this all figured out, why did you propose?” you ask, feeling the tension rise between you.

“Because I did have it figured out!” he snaps, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who changed the plan, refusing to come with me.”

“I didn’t refuse,” you say, your tone turning defensive. “I just can’t drop my life because you want me to live yours.”

“We’re in a relationship, Y/N! You’re not single anymore. I’ve always supported you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t supported me. But why should I give up my dream for yours?”

“Because I don’t think you’d be happy long-term!” Spencer exclaims. “You never mentioned any of this before. Then suddenly, you tell me you’re teaching in Minnesota, out of nowhere.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words settling in. “You don’t think I’d be happy?” he looks you in the eyes, his gaze starting into your soul.  

“Not in the long run. No.”

“And who’s to say I’d be happy with you?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer’s face falls, his expression pained. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’d be happy moving to D.C., working at the BAU again, getting married, having kids? That’s your plan, Spencer. Not mine.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says, his voice faltering. “We talked about this before we even started dating—marriage, kids, everything.”

“That was seven years ago. We’ve both changed. I’ve changed.” you pointed at yourself as you tell him the truth.  He realized that too of course the distance away from him was going to change him. 

His face hardens, hurt mixing with anger. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I love you, Spencer,” you say, your voice cracking. “And because I thought maybe, somehow, we could still make it work.” you cry as tears fall down your face.

“But how can we, if you’re across the country?” The silence that follows is thick, heavy. You both know the answer before it’s spoken.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

“So… that’s it? We break up?” His voice is hollow, as if he’s already accepted the outcome.

“I—I think we have to,” you say, tears stinging your eyes.

He nods slowly, his jaw tight. “Alright.” You reach for his hand, but he pulls it away gently.

“Spencer… I’m sorry.” you let out a sob trying to wipe your tears away. 

“Me too.” he says getting up to go into his room and you stayed on the couch crying as you knew he was doing the same. Neither of you wanted this outcome but you also didn't want each other to be miserable. 

The next morning, you woke up before Spencer. Quietly, you packed your things, your heart heavy with the weight of last night's conversation. You had booked an earlier flight back to Minnesota, hoping to slip out unnoticed, to avoid another painful confrontation. 

As you approached the front door with your bag in hand, you paused, glancing toward the bedroom—the one you had shared with him so many times before. To your surprise, Spencer was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen from a sleepless night.

"I thought you'd at least have the courage to say goodbye," he says, his voice low and rough. He looks just as broken as you feel, like neither of you have gotten any rest.

“Spencer…” you start, but the words don’t come. He doesn’t look at you, staring at the floor instead. Now he was angry seeing you sneaking into his room to leave the ring and some note. 

“Just… leave the ring and go. Please.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you reach for the ring on your finger. Slowly, reluctantly, you pull it off, feeling the cool metal slide away from your skin. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the symbol of the future you had once wanted so badly.

Tears blur your vision as you gently place the ring on the nightstand beside him. "I'm sorry," you whisper, knowing it’s not enough. Without another word, you turn and walk out the door, leaving behind the life you thought you would share. 

That was the last time you saw Spencer. The breakup was rough on both of you. No matter how much time passed, reminders of him lingered in your life. A month later, a couple of boxes from Spencer arrived at your doorstep—your things from his apartment, meticulously packed and sent back to you. It was everything you had left there, down to the smallest items. The gesture felt like a final goodbye, a clear sign that he had moved on. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. You still had his things. A couple of his shirts, some books, and photos. They haunted you in the quiet moments when you were alone, a reminder of a future that would never be.

Your friend Cassie had advised you to collect his things and move on. “You need closure,” she told you, gently pushing you to take the steps toward healing. But you didn’t at first. You couldn’t. Then, without telling you, she set you up on a date.

His name was Scott. He was a high school English teacher, loved to read, worked out, and was just coming out of his own messy breakup. On your first date, you clicked in a way that surprised you. It felt easy with him, natural. The two of you saw each other a few times, and before long, it had been a month of dates, good conversation, and the start of something promising. But there was one problem.

Every time you went home, Spencer’s presence was still there. His shirts hanging in the closet, the photos of you two tucked in drawers, even old messages you hadn’t deleted. Sometimes you would sit in silence, imagining what his life was like now, wondering if he had moved on in the same way. You’d catch yourself thinking about texting Garcia to ask how he was, but you stopped yourself. Your former colleagues—your friends—were all still close to Spencer. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Not after what happened. You figured it wasn’t your place anymore.

One evening, after a date with Scott, Cassie sat with you in your apartment, and you confessed the nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.

“I feel stuck,” you admitted, pushing Spencer’s shirt aside in your closet. “Every time I try to move on, it’s like he’s still here.”

Cassie nodded, understanding. “You need closure. Real closure. Get rid of his things, talk to him if you need to, but you can’t keep holding onto pieces of him if you want to move forward.”

Her words sunk in, and you realized she was right. So, you broke things off with Scott—kindly, letting him know it wasn’t fair to either of you while you were still processing your past. Then you sent Spencer a text, asking if the two of you could meet to talk. You weren’t sure if he would reply, or if he’d even want to. But you needed to try.

Spencer had tried to move on after the breakup. On the outside, he seemed fine—throwing himself into work, keeping busy with cases. But back at home, it hit him harder. The apartment was eerily quiet without you there. Your photos, the calendar you’d hung with important dates for the both of you, the clothes you left behind—all were reminders of a life that wasn’t his anymore.

What broke him the most was the engagement ring. He found it on the floor after you left, a painful symbol of what could have been. After a sleepless night, he called Derek to vent about it.

“You have to start moving on, man,” Derek had said over the phone. “It doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner you let go, the better you’ll feel.”

So, with Derek, J.J., and Garcia’s help, Spencer gathered all your belongings, packed them into boxes, and sent them to you. It felt like closure at the time, like he was making a step toward healing. He thought he was done with it. Done with you.

Until your text came.

At first, he didn’t recognize the number. It was a message from someone he thought he had put behind him, someone he wasn’t prepared to hear from again. The message explained that it was you, asking if you could meet up to talk.

Spencer stared at his phone for a long time. He felt his heart tighten in his chest, fear rising up. He didn’t want to see you. Getting rid of your things was one thing, but seeing your face—he couldn’t handle that. Not now, not after the progress he had made. So, he never replied.

---

Time has a strange way of healing, but also of leaving scars. Neither of you contacted the other again. A month after you sent that text, you realized you didn’t need to hear his voice to get the closure you sought. You packed up his things and put them away then, you tried to forget.

But life, as it often does, has its own plans.

Two months later, Spencer found himself heading to Minnesota. He never imagined he’d end up there, of all places, in the middle of February. You had moved on in your own way, and by then, you had nearly forgotten that you once asked to meet up. You had put the past behind you—or so you thought. But some things refuse to stay buried.

“Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans against Spencer’s hotel door. They had just finished a case today and the team was leaving Spencer had decided to stay another day. No one needed to question why he needed to as they knew the answer.  

“Yes, I think it’s time,” Spencer replied, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

J.J. leaned forward, her face full of concern. “Do you think it’s wise to meet with her after she contacted you two months ago?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, probably not. But she said she wanted to talk, and I should at least hear her out.” J.J. exchanged a glance with Morgan, but neither of them said anything. They both knew Spencer was the kind of person who needed closure, even if it hurt. Pulling out his phone, Spencer dialed Garcia’s number. It rang twice before her familiar voice came through the line.

“You have reached your tech goddess. How may I help you today?” Garcia chirped, her usual brightness evident even over the phone.

“Garcia, can you check if Y/N has a new address?”

There was a pause. “Wait… you want to see Y/N? Are you okay, Reid?” Her voice softened with concern.

“Yes, I’m okay to meet with her,” Spencer replied, but the hesitation lingered beneath his words.

Garcia was quiet for a beat before she said, “Are you sure *she’s* okay to meet with you? I know she asked to meet you, but that was two months ago, and—”

“I know,” Spencer interrupted gently. “I’ll call her before I show up.”

Garcia let out a long breath. “Alright, if you say so. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but her address is still the same. I’ve sent it to you. Good luck, and please, be safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Garcia,” he said, appreciating her concern. 

“This is a bad idea, right?”  Morgan questioned as he watched Spencer walk out the door going off to see you. A bad feeling coming onto him.

“Oh, it is,” J.J. agreed, crossing her arms.

It was an ordinary Thursday night, or at least it started that way. You sat on your couch, a bottle of wine nearby, your laptop on your lap, grading papers turned in by your students. The TV was on in the background, playing a movie you’d seen a hundred times. The cold Minnesota winter had gifted you a snow day, so you decided to get some work done now and relax later. 

That plan was interrupted when a knock echoed through your apartment. Setting your laptop aside, you paused the movie and stood, walking to the door. When you opened it, you blinked in confusion. 

There stood Spencer Reid, bundled up against the cold, his breath visible in the frosty air.

"Reid, what are you doing here?" Your voice was flat, surprise and confusion mixing with a slight edge.

“I came to see you,” Spencer said, shifting nervously on his feet. “I know it’s been a while, but I got your text and thought… why not?”

You stared at him, brow furrowed. “Reid, that was *two months ago*.”

“I know I’m late,” he said quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground before meeting yours again. “But I just finished a case, and I thought—”

“Thought what?” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. “Look, I know I texted you first, but that was then.”

Spencer’s face tightened, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “Well, I wasn’t ready to see you *then*, that’s the issue. You want what you want when you want it.”

You folded your arms, eyebrows raised. “Who doesn’t?”

The tension hung between you for a moment before Spencer sighed. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, Y/N. Please, can we just talk?”

You paused, considering. After a long breath, you relented. “Fine, you’ve got 30 minutes.”

“Give me 15,” he bargained, his voice quieter, almost pleading.

“You have 10 minutes," you replied, stepping aside and motioning for him to come in. "Starting now."

Spencer shifted nervously, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, snow still clinging to his shoes. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He walked in slowly, glancing around as if expecting something to have changed, but your apartment was much the same as it had always been—warm, cluttered with books and papers, and smelling faintly of the lavender candle you always burned.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway. “Alright, ten minutes. Start talking.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I didn’t respond right away because… I wasn’t ready. After everything that happened, I had to figure out how to deal with it. Losing you—losing us—it messed me up more than I realized. I thought sending your things back would help me move on, but it didn’t. I needed time, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer you earlier.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, Spencer. But you don’t get to just show up here months later and expect me to drop everything. I’ve been working on moving on, too.”

“I know,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor. “I’m not here to mess that up. I just… I thought if we could talk, maybe we could get some closure. Properly this time.”

“Closure?” you repeated, a touch of bitterness in your voice. “And you think showing up unannounced is the way to do that?”

He winced, realizing how it must have looked. “I didn’t plan it well, I know. But I’ve thought about you every day since the breakup. I’ve wondered if we could’ve handled things differently, if we could’ve made it work.”

You stood there, feeling your heart race. Part of you had longed for this conversation, this chance to get clarity on what had happened. But now that it was here, all it did was stir up emotions you thought you had buried.

“You think about it now?” you asked, voice quieter. “You’re the one who packed up my things and sent them back like we were just some temporary fling. That hurt, Spencer. It felt like you had already moved on.”

Spencer’s face softened, regret written in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to feel that way. I thought it would help you… and me."

You shook your head, pacing a bit to release the tension building inside. “I’ve been trying to move forward, Reid. I was even seeing someone And you know what? I liked him. He’s a good guy, but I couldn’t fully be with him because I kept holding on… to us.”

Spencer looked at you, his expression tightening at the mention of Scott, but he quickly pushed it aside. “I’m not asking for anything other than to talk. I don’t expect us to get back together. I just didn’t want us to leave things the way we did.”

You stopped pacing and looked at him, really looked at him, noticing the weight he carried in his eyes. “So, what do you want from this conversation, Spencer? What do you need?”

"I just wanted to talk to you to see if we could I don’t know be friends again"

"Are you serious?" you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. "I wanted it to work so badly, Spencer. I uprooted my life to try and meet you halfway, but it was like you couldn’t see that."

Spencer’s expression tightened. "I didn’t feel like you were meeting me halfway. You were building a whole new life in Minnesota, and I felt like I was barely a part of it. You didn’t tell me about your teaching job until you had already accepted it."

"I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission to follow my dreams," you shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I wanted to do something for me, something that gave me purpose."

"And I get that," he said, his tone softening, "but I was supposed to be part of your life too. I felt like you were pulling away, like every decision you made was just... you choosing a life without me in it."

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. "I wasn’t trying to choose a life without you, Spencer. I was trying to find a life where we could both be happy. But it felt like every time I chose something for me, it meant choosing against you."

Spencer rubbed his hands over his face, clearly torn. "I wanted you to be happy too. I just... I wanted to be part of that happiness. But I didn’t know how to balance your dreams with mine."

“I know. And that’s why it didn’t work.” You shook your head, the sadness creeping back in. “We both wanted to be happy, but we didn’t know how to make that happen together.”

“So now what?” Spencer asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You came here for me. We talked it out. I’m done talking. I have your things. I can ship them out tomorrow.”

“You still have my things?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I can’t forget you, Spencer. Unlike you did,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes pained. “That’s my girl! Still can pull the verbal punches!” he says sarcastically as he watches you disappear into the hallway. 

“I’m not your girl anymore!” you snapped, feeling a surge of frustration. As you look through your closet for Spencer’s box. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer said quickly, his tone apologetic as you came back into the room. Once you find it you look at your room one last time and then you see it. That Sanrio plush Cinnamonroll, it was the first birthday gift Spencer had given you. You loved the thing and still do. 

“Here’s your things,” you said, handing him a box filled with his belongings.

He reached on top of the sealed box and grabbed the small cinnamon roll plush. “This was a birthday gift... You’re really giving this back?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears threatening to spill. “It’s the last reminder of you, Reid.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. But whether you like it or not, we’ll always have a part of each other in our hearts,” Spencer said softly.

“I know,” you replied, trying to hold back your tears.

“And I’m never going to forget you,” Spencer added, his voice breaking.

“I know that,” you said, your own voice trembling.

“But I have to do what feels right,” Spencer said. “And so do you.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, wiping away a tear.

Without warning, Spencer stepped closer and kissed you gently. The kiss was full of unresolved feelings, the pain of the past, and the hope of what could have been. It was a goodbye you both needed, but it was also a reminder of what you once had.

As the kiss ended, you both pulled away, your eyes locked with his. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything unsaid and everything you both had shared.

Spencer took a deep breath, his face etched with sadness. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whispered, watching as he walked out the door, taking a part of your heart with him.

Thirty minutes later, as the storm outside raged on, Spencer found himself knocking on your door again. The wind howled, and snow battered against the windows. His team had left an hour ago, and he’d been unable to reach his hotel due to the worsening weather. With nowhere else to go, he found himself back at your doorstep.

When you opened the door, Spencer’s heart sank at the sight of you still crying. His own emotions surged as he took in your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the words you both hadn’t said, all the pain you hadn’t fully expressed.

"I'm sorry-" kiss "I didn’t mean-to comeback I just- fuck" he tried to explain himself but he couldn’t stop your lips from meshing with his. This was messed up and you both knew you just didn't care. The kisses become more passionate as he pushes you against the door, grabbing your hips pinning you. Kissing down you neck as you let out a heavy sigh finally able to think.

"Spencer what are we- fuck what are we doing?" You ask as Spencer brings his hands under your  and grabs hold of your breasts. It turned him on knowing you had no bra underneath this shirt the whole time. 

Pulling up your shirt over your head he answers "what feels right" he says going back to kissing you this his tongue slides his way into your mouth. Your body wanted no need for this as you decided to speed things up Spencer had another approach. He quickly slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling how aroused you were. 

"Fuck-" He groans the tip of his fingers running against your slick folds as  you moan. "You're so wet for me" you couldn’t respond to him as he pushes his fingers inside you both groan. You move your legs wider and you need more as he pushes in deeper, your hips pushing against his hand. His fingers curl up inside you, as you start to whine. Pushing them in and out second by second driving you crazy and he didn't want anything but that. 

"Fuck I forgot how good you are at this" you let out as Spencer says nothing getting onto his knees then pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. You stared at him as he completely removed his hand from your pussy. Before he could say anything he brought one of your legs onto his shoulders before completely devouring you. Groaning at the taste of you, he missed this he missed you. The sound of your moans were music to his ears as he licked in-between your folds. Your hands going into his hair hoping he'd push his tongue into you. That was all Spencer needed; he never forgot how to please you. He knew your ticks inside and out. His pants felt so strained against his cock bust first he wanted you to cum on his tongue for him and only him.

"Ohhh god Spencer!" You cry as he pushes his tongue into you feeling it tense up inside you making your thighs clench in response. His tongue moves vertically and then wiggles slightly pulling you into this back and forth of need and desire.  The pleasure makes you feel dizzy, pulling on his hair tighter. Spencer lets out a groan sending a vibration through your very core. He licked your clit with long, slow strokes, his tongue pushing inside you as he ate you out aggressively. He used his hands to spread your lips apart, giving him better access to your pussy.

"Spence, ohhh yes! Yes!" Spencer loved how responsive you were, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to devour you. He felt your hands grip his hair tightly once again, pulling him closer. He could barely breathe, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make you come on his face.

"Spencer!" You screamed his name as Spencer felt your body tense, he gripped your hips tightly, holding you down as he continued to ravish your core. He felt your body convulse, your thighs quivering as you shattered against his mouth. He lapped up your juices, cleaning you up before helping you back onto your feet. He wasn't done and you weren’t either.

The two of you kiss passionately as you move to the bedroom as you both try to get Spencer’s clothes off. His vest, shoes, and belt laid in a trail towards your bedroom. When he finally gets into your bed you both couldn't help entangling your bodies together.  Both of your moans and groans fill the room as you grind against one another. Spencer knew how worked up you get when it came to clothing. He wanted to watch you squirm under him, beg him to fuck you. Maybe beg him to take you back. But you were impatient tearing his shirt as buttons flew everywhere. You then changed your positions as you sat on top of him kissing his neck and down to his chest.

He looked at you surprised as then at your body. He pictured you riding him for the last time. Admiring how pretty you look and starting picturing you crying as you reached your climax coming apart for him. Even after all this time you were still so pretty to him. Like a goddess, his goddess. If this was the last time he couldn't ruin you like he wanted to, he wanted to make love to you once last time.

Flipping you back over onto the bed he gets up and starts removing his clothes. While he does this you can't help but wonder was this right? Whatever this was, it was messy and complicated and I thought this was one night. What's going to happen tomorrow? 

"Spencer, are you sure you want this?" You ask as Spencer looks at you.

"Y/n I just had oral sex with you 5 minutes ago and you're asking me if I want this?" Your heart starts beating faster as he moves closer to the bed. That look he gave you as he slowly walked towards the bed. 

"I-I know but-" "But what baby?" You don't say anything as the grabs onto your ankles and pull you towards the edge of the bed. 

"Spencer tomorrow-" he cuts you off looking at you in the eyes, his body pressing against yours as his fingers trails down your thighs and back to your pussy. Touching your folds running circles on your clit before dipping it inside of you again. His fingers pumping in and out of your hole until he had enough.  

"Fuck tomorrow I want to make love to you tonight" he says kissing your lips once more as you let him push his cock inside you. All doubts expelling in thoughts as all you could think about Spencer putting his dick inside you. Spencer groaned softly as he slowly entered you,  he missed this he missed you. Pushing inch by inch gives you both time to readjust. Laying kisses down your neck, his hands cupping your boob's as he kisses those too. Sucking on your nipple as he thrusts inside you. 

"So good you feel so good baby" he whispers in your ear, setting a steady pace. His hips snapping against yours as he fucks you. 

"Ahh- I miss this so much" you moan out as Spencer doesn’t say anything going a little faster as he looks you "you're so fucking pretty" he groans as you run your fingers in his hair pulling him into another kiss. His hips moving faster feeling you clenching around him. Your legs wrapping around his and his hands starting to grip your hips. The bed creaking and the frame hitting the wall but you both didn't care. 

Spencer buried his head into your neck as his thrusts had  gone harder and faster. You were milking him clenching around him, you were close he knew it. He needed you to cum all over his cock. 

"Spence- Spence please!" You cry as Spencer looks up at you in awe "shhh you don't have to beg baby, I'm here" he groans as he shifts his weight and it drove you crazy.  Keeping with that angle he thrusts harder and harder making you do nothing but cry and scream his name.

"Look at me baby" you look Spencer in the eyes, something in the way that he looked sent you over the edge. You came around his cock and in a few more thrusts he couldn't take it anymore. You felt his cock twitching inside you. 

"Spencer cum for me please" Spencer tried to pull out but you quickly pulled him back in. He let out a cry as he came inside you for the first time in a long time. 

The two of you didn't stop there, you both couldn't keep your hands off each other. On your floor, the dresser, in the shower, and in your bed again. Both leaving marks and scratches behind on one another. You didn't know how tomorrow was gonna go but that was something you wanted to deal with in the morning.  

The next morning, Spencer woke up first. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slept beside him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel happy. Being with you again, in this quiet, peaceful moment, felt right.

But then the weight of reality sank in.

Nothing had been solved. If anything, last night had made things even more complicated. The storm outside may have passed, but the one between you both still raged, unresolved. Spencer stared at the ceiling, the feeling of unease growing. 

He gently slid out of bed, careful not to wake you. As he stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered streets, Spencer’s mind raced. How could he go back to D.C. after this? Could he even walk away again, knowing what had just happened between you.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you say, looking up at Spencer with a sleepy smile, your hair a mess. He stares at you, noticing the faint hickies on your neck and the light bruising on your chest. You seemed happy about last night, and that only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

This couldn't work. He knew that. 

"Y/N, we need to talk," he says quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You roll onto your side, propping your head up with your hand. "I know, Spencer. Look, I miss you like crazy. And I know we hooked up last night, but... give me a year or two, and I'll come back. I could teach in D.C., or Virginia—wherever. I just want to be with you."

"I can’t," Spencer interrupts, his voice tense.

Your face falls, confusion clouding your expression. "What? Why not?"

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Y/N, last night was... great, but I think we shouldn't have done it."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. "No," you whisper, disbelief setting in. "You're not doing this to me."

Spencer looks at you, his face pained. "I think last night was just... spur of the moment. We were both emotionally vulnerable, caught up in everything. I think the only reason you're so quick to compromise is because of the sex."

"Are you—" You sit up, fury bubbling in your chest. "You're an asshole, Spencer. You know that?" You shake your head in disbelief. 

"I want you to be happy," he says, his voice soft but firm.

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's rich."

"I'm serious. I don't want you to make a decision based on one night of meaningless sex."

"Is that how low you think of me? You think this was *meaningless* to me?" Your voice cracks as the anger mixes with hurt.

"No, it’s not that. But you love teaching here, and I don’t want you to come back for me and wake up one day realizing you’re not happy with your life. You deserve more than that." You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t believe he was here saying this to your face. Here you thought you could make your relationship work again.  Hold onto the love you once shared. Thinking that you could compromise yet here Spencer was breaking your heart all over again.  

"Get out of my apartment," you snap, your voice cold, the betrayal clear.

"Y/N, at least understand—"

"No!" you cut him off, your eyes flashing with anger. "You said everything you needed to say last night. Now leave." He wanted to say something else, he wanted you to know that he loved you and that he was letting you go because he did. "Go!" You screamed, making him jump as you threw your pillow at him and missed. 

Spencer stands there for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any chance to explain, but the message is clear. He quickly gathers his things, his heart heavy with sadness as he walks out of the room, the door closing behind him with a final, painful thud.

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Fic: Mulder, Scully, and Courthouse Weddings

Mulder and Scully and weddings-- do they or don't they? In this case they do and they don't.

Tagging @pookie-mulder, who inspired this idea!

Loose chronological order below~

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls’s

in another world - Chapter 22

it happens in vegas, of course, and it happens because of langly and melissa.... it’s directly following mulder’s breakup with diana, and he’s been moping around the hotel room the entire time; dana is in the midst of stressing over a big test for medical school, and has refused to leave the hotel room so that she can study to the point of driving melissa crazy. 

AU-- Pre-S1 Mulder and Scully meet and marry in Las Vegas.

I wish you would write a fic where Mulder and Scully are married and domestic af. AU, obviously.

...Mulder and Scully are married on August 16, at a courthouse in Virginia. The date has no significance, no probable reason to get married then—and that, Mulder says, is why it's perfect.

AU S7 Scully is appalled at her and Mulder's shamelessly gooey "married" behavior.

#32: It looks good on you.

He says, “Wanna get married today?”

She lifts her head to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and maybe an ounce of caution. She says, “You're kidding.”

“Dead serious, Scully.”

AU S7 Mulder and Scully get hitched on a spur-of-the-moment October day.

Five Moments Mulder and Scully Shared (And One They Didn't) (Tumblr)

The new weight is unfamiliar on her hand, but not in a bad way. She grabs his hand and presses a kiss half against his finger and half against his own ring as they huddle together on the steps of the courthouse. 

AU Post S11 Mulder and Scully get a second chance at their entire lives; and determine to make better choices with each other.

@silhouetteofacedar/SilhouetteOfACedar's Pearl, Ch. 1 (Ao3)

Scully shakes her head. “Sorry, no. I’m just nervous.”

“We can keep holding hands, if you want,” he says quietly. “Play the part of a happy couple for a few minutes.”

She glances at him to see if he’s joking. He’s not; his face is strangely serious.

He should be joking, she thinks.

AU-- Mulder and Scully wed after her cancer diagnosis.

@mchalowitz's (Ao3) chain reaction, part 5

Mulder doesn’t bring up the proposal for three days. He figures he should mention it before the weekend because after two days apart, the seriousness of it will wear off. It’ll just be an awkward occurrence, not a real offer. 

“Should we get you a ring?” 

Scully coughs out a laugh and glances at him briefly from the filing cabinet.

AU-- Between Scully's cancer and Teena Mulder's drama, Mulder and his partner are able to find a brief, bright spot: their marriage.

@leiascully's (Ao3) Mulder told Scully he would do whatever he could

They get married.  It’s a quickie courthouse wedding with Maggie and Tara as their witnesses.  Bill refuses to be any part of it.  

AU-- Mulder and Scully get married and leave the FBI to adopt and raise Emily.

@myownsuperintendent/MyOwnSuperintendent’s

All a Family

They get married at the courthouse. They bring her mom.... But she smiles during the ceremony, at least, and Scully does too, a little shyly, and Mulder knows he does, in a way he can’t contain.

AU-- Mulder tells Scully about her ova after her remission; and the two have successfully begun an IVF pregnancy and started the adoption process for Emily when they decide to wed for better chances.

Ficlet: “Marry Me” (Ao3)

She stops where she is.  “Are you serious?”

He pauses a moment to consider, and then he says, “I’m serious.” 

...She’s next to the bed now.  “Yes, then.”

AU-- Post Requiem Mulder asks Scully to marry him.

Readjustment

She feels a little bit guilty that she can’t give her mom what she wants, when there’s so much she’s missed out on. Maybe she would have wanted it herself once, but not anymore, now. “We just…we don’t want to wait, Mom,” she says, and maybe that’s silly, since they’ve already waited quite a while. Since they already have a child together, a life, love. But that is how they feel.

AU-- Mulder, Scully, and William are readjusting to life as free citizens no longer on the run... well, Mulder and Scully are, anyway.

@scully-loves-ruthie's Better Call Scully

“Mulder, look at me.  He faces downward eyes locked on hers.  “Do you really believe that you’ll never stake someone thinking they’re a vampire only to find out too late you were wrong... again?”

He stares at her weighing his response before offering a playful smile as he pulls her toward the courthouse

“That’s what I thought.”  She mutters quickening her pace to remain in step with him.

AU-- Post Bad Blood Mulder and Scully get married for "practical" reasons (of course.)

@cauldronoflove/thegoodthebadandthenerdy's All I Need's a Fraction of Your Happy Heart

(Mulder had meant his proposal, sure, but in the end it was Scully who proposed. Neatly and to the point, but so full of an unrestrained want and sincerity that Mulder had covered her hand across the crayon-scribbled tabletop without even checking left or right.)

AU-- S7 Scully reflects on the journey from her recent marriage to Mulder while she and her partner are on a case.

AU/Married/ISTJ reflects how banter had turned to serious convo/duo both proposed/courthouse/giddy together on case-- All I Need's a Fraction of Your Happy Heart - [Archive]

@msrafterdark's (Ao3) MSR // Ficmas Day 30 - Fireworks

Their belongings are all in storage save for a few toiletries and some clothes for their honeymoon next week. They're signing for a house next month. A simple but beautifully elegant wedding dress hangs on the back of the door of Scully's childhood bedroom. A bundle of wedding presents from relatives and friends--including a rather suspiciously-wrapped gift with the initials "TLG" scrawled on it--sit on Maggie's kitchen table. Even AD Skinner is stopping by for the courthouse appointment tomorrow.

AU-- S7 Mulder and Scully enjoy the night before their wedding together.

beduini/Beduini's Legitimate

The baby moves again and he smiles, a wide, cheek-splitting smile. After a few more minutes, he raises up on his forearm once more and looks down at her with eyes shining, as if he'd just solved a case. "Hey Scully, we got married today."

Her lips turn up in a slight, amused smile. "Yes, Mulder, we did."

AU-- Post Vienen Mulder and Scully hit up the courthouse.

Vickie Moseley’s (Ao3, Gossamer)

Mother of the Bride

"Dana," I whispered, holding my breath and hoping my suspicions about this 'appointment' were correct. "Can you tell me what this is all about?"

Suddenly, Fox was on the phone. "Call it an early birthday present, Mrs. Scully. And maybe a late Mother's Day Present, as well."

Post Existence Mulder and Scully wed at the courthouse.

@aloysiavirgata’s (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ) A Tent of Shelter (Ao3)

She smiles at him, her lopsided grin. “Mulder, what can change, really? The taxes. The health insurance. But I think we’ve reached some point of terminal commitment, don’t you think? And you can hardly imagine I’ll be Doctor Mulder. So do I like the idea? I do, very much. But it’s hardly shocking.”

“Scully my love, you need to read more romance novels.”

Post IWTB Mulder wants to get married for his birthday.

@agentscully/agent_scully2084's Important Traditions

With minimal protest, Scully allowed Mulder to carry her over the threshold, laughing as Mulder explained the symbolism of the ancient tradition and appeared to take seriously his duty to protect his new bride from evil spirits.

Post IWTB Mulder and Scully get married in khakis and blue.

@scully/humancredentials's "Did you just call me 'baby' in front of my mother?"

She looks like she’s about to say that yes, something is wrong and that he shouldn’t antagonize her brother that way and even though they’re living together now, even though they’re ink on the paper official, sworn to each other in a courthouse in rural Virginia in front of her mother, her God, and all of their ghosts, it still makes her anxious when it’s on display.

But she doesn’t, doesn’t say any of those things, realizes she doesn’t even really want to.

Post IWTB Mulder is prone to slipping up with pet names after he and Scully tied the knot.

amorfati3215/Amorfati32’s (FFN) AU head canon - Mulder and Scully never separated...

Mulder and Scully marry two months later in a small service at the county courthouse. Scully’s mother gives the bride away while Skinner agrees to be Mulder’s best man. It’s a quiet affair, formal too but it’s exactly what they wanted. 

AU-- Post IWTB Mulder and Scully vacay, wed, and stay together during the hard times.

@broadcastnews1987/audries/@kennedyandheidi/inkspl0tchess's (WBM 1/ 2/ 3) Unnamed

“you’re my wife,” he says, over and over. her fingers are tugging at the tie she’d made him wear to the courthouse. he hadn’t really minded. “you’re my wife, scully.”

Post IWTB-- Three moments are Mulder and Scully tied the knot.

@m0lderitsme's Just a post MSIV fluff piece.

A big wedding was most definitely not for either of them. Plus, they didn’t really have anyone to invited anymore. Sure, Scully could have asked her brother Bill and his wife and son, but she didn’t really want them there. They decided that they’d get married in a very, very quick ceremony with a Justice of the Peace.

Post Revival Mulder and Scully marry with Skinner as their witness.

@flukemen/@pinebluffvariants/pinebluffvariant's Barrows

On a Friday afternoon, Mulder and Scully get out of a cab just a few blocks from the basement where they used to eat hotdogs at midnight and argue over evidence, when they were young. The streets are cleaner than they used to be, back then. The air is too. At least it feels that way today.

Post Revival Mulder and Scully wait in line outside the courthouse... and watch Skinner skip right on through.

@kateyes224's (Ao3)

Unchained Melody

Scully wiggled her small toes on the hard-wood floor, glad to be barefoot.  Her pale ecru dress shimmered in the darkened kitchen, her face half shadowed. She looked up at Mulder, and something in the way she was sitting, staring up at him, her cerulean eyes luminous in the dark, niggled at his brain like deja vu.

After the courthouse ceremony, Mulder remembers one moment when his parents looked really, truly happy with each other.

Honorable mentions:

amorfati3215/Amorfati32’s The Proposal (Parts 1/, 2/, 3/, 4/)

jeri’s (Gossamer) Vulpecula (Gossamer 1/ 2/) (post here)

@rationalcashew/RationalCashew's Dark is the Way; Light is the Place (Tumblr)

Vickie Moseley’s "My Dearest Son"

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Hopeless: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You and your lawyer try to fight your unlawful arrest but it's not looking good. The entire team feels your loss and tries to concentrate on the case at hand. None of them can predict the outcome.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness." - Kingman Brewster, Jr.

You haven't received your cell number, so you're stuck in the interrogation room awaiting that information. You're already at the prison in Goochland but away from the rest of the inmates. Still, you can feel every bit of despair and sadness seeping through the walls. Your anxiety is in the form of tapping your finger on the desk and bouncing your leg. Your lawyer, Steve Grant is on his way to you to discuss your options and the details of the case.

The door to the interrogation room opens, and Steven walks in wearing a very nice suit and an expensive-looking briefcase.

"Y/N? My name is Steven Grant. I'm sure you know who I am by this point."

"Yeah, my father sent you to me?"

"Yes." He takes a seat across from you and opens his briefcase where the files of your case are. He removes the files and lays them out so you both can see it. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"I should start by saying I didn't do this. I've never seen those men before in my life. If I'm not at work, I'm at home with my boyfriend. I'm in the FBI, why would I want to kill one person much less seven?"

"You know more than most that people in power can do pretty horrible things."

"Before we begin, I just want to say I have everything riding on this. I have a life, a boyfriend, a home to get back to."

"I understand. I will do my best to give you the best possible outcome. They gave me everything they have on your case, so we'll go over the evidence and see if we can contradict what they have. Then, we'll go over possible alibis and prepare for the kind of questions they might ask you. They're giving us a couple of hours together, so that should be more than enough time."

"Okay," you whisper.

The tapping on the desk and bouncing of your leg doesn't stop. All you can think about is Spencer and how he must be taking this. You can't imagine he's doing well. In fact, he's far from it. He walks into work with his hair a bit messy, his eyes a bit puffy, and not his usual smile on his face. He's a complete wreck. He misses you so fucking much and hates that you're locked up for something you didn't do.

All he wants to do is visit you but they're not allowing visitors. You don't have access to a phone, so he's pretty much stuck where he is. He's so fucking sad all the time. He won't feel better until you're out and back in his arms. Derek sees the young genius hunched over as he walks past, and his heart aches for him. The entire team meets in the briefing room to go over the current case, but there is tension in the air because you're not with them.

"I know you're all worried about Y/N, but until we can figure out what's going on with her, I need everyone on assigned cases," Hotch says.

"I talked to the Captain of Virginia PD, but they don't want the Feds on it. Not since he knows she's one of us," JJ sighs.

"Screw them. We should be working on her case," Derek says.

"I understand, Morgan, but the focus is on this case right now. I will do my best to coordinate with Virginia PD. I promise I am doing whatever I can to help her, even if it doesn't look like it. JJ, begin."

"We've got four dead in a home invasion in southeast D.C."

"What was the cause of death?"

"Blunt force trauma. No knife or gun present at the scene."

"Have we been invited in?"

"Yeah, the cops want us to meet them at the crime scene."

"Isn't southeast where all that vandalism's been lately?" Emily asks.

"It's the same area, yeah. Do you think they could be connected?"

"I don't know. The weapon certainly doesn't fit the typical MO of a home invasion killer."

"Well, it's worth considering. It's common for vandalism to escalate into violence, plus there's a lot of anger out there. That neighborhood's mostly black working class. Now, it's being gentrified while the people who live there are having a tough time. Were the victims wealthy?"

"Yeah, it was two couples. They were both part of the influx of new wealth in the area."

"Did police report a robbery?"

"Nothing was taken."

"What race were the victims?" Derek asks.

"One couple was white, the other black."

"Well, if this is related to vandalism, four dead is a hell of an escalation."

"So, there's the potential for a lot more bodies out there?"

"That's what I'm afraid of. We leave in five," Hotch says and packs up his things.

The crime scene is in a house that has steps leading up to the front door, so Spencer stays outside with JJ and Hotch. The lead detective on the case is waiting for the team when they arrive, and JJ shakes his hand.

"Detective Andrews? I'm Jenifer Jareau. These are agents Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid."

"Thanks for getting here so fast."

"What can you tell us?"

The detective walks to a car outside the house that has been blocked off by police tape. There is blood on the car and on the ground, signifying that an attack took place.

"It looks like one of the victims was attacked when he got out of his car. This means whoever did this probably used his keys to get inside and surprise the other victims."

"Who found the bodies?"

"The cleaning woman. She's giving her statement now."

"Dave, would you, Morgan, and Prentiss go inside? We'll cover out here," Hotch says.

"I know you're all used to this, but it's a hell of a sight in there," Andrews sighs and leads the three agents up the steps.

Spencer stays outside since he can't walk up the stairs but when the door is opened, he can see the array of bodies inside covered with white sheets. Emily and Derek are visibly upset but Rossi can tell that it's not because of what's in front of them. Derek looks around the room and clenches his hands into fists before releasing them.

"Are you two okay?"

"Y/N should be here," Derek says.

"I know."

"She would have already known what kind of unsub we'd be dealing with," Emily adds.

All three people hear a sniffle come from outside, and they see Spencer trying not to cry. Rossi is the only one who goes out there to talk to him while Derek and Emily stay inside to inspect the crime scene.

"Hey, kid, she's going to be okay."

"I should be with her," Spencer sighs.

"The most you can do for her is work the case. You know she would have wanted that."

Spencer shakes his head angrily and glares at Rossi.

"Don't talk about her like she's never coming back."

Spencer hobbles away and Rossi goes back inside the house to help Derek and Emily.

"Did the neighbors see anything?" JJ asks the detective.

"Oh, you know, the patrol cars are even doubled in this area because of the vandalism but nothing."

"The unsub would have to be extremely fast and efficient," Spencer adds.

"Look at this." Hotch kneels down next to the car and points to a red puddle on the ground and much smaller drops around it. "There's a pool of blood here and then drops as the victim moves toward the door. How big was the victim?"

"6'1", 6'2". Why?"

"If he was strong enough to move under his own power, you'd expect signs of a struggle. If not, there'd most likely be drag marks. He was carried. That's a lot of dead weight for one person to move alone."

"There's no pool of blood on the porch which means they didn't have to set him down to open the door. There's more than one unsub."

"So, victim one gets dropped here," Rossi points to where the first victim lays, "while number two comes around the corner to see what's going on, and the unsub attacks him there."

"The female victims were probably here when the first attack occurred," Emily points to a spot in the corner. "Which means somebody would have to control them pretty quickly. How many unsubs are you thinking?"

"At least one to move the body inside, another one to take out man number two, and one more to subdue the others."

"Well, vandalism breeds a pack mentality," Emily scoffs.

"If it's the same unsubs, then we're looking at a group of three, maybe four. These aren't kids. They're too efficient. There's control and precision. Juveniles are sloppy."

"He's right," Emily nods. "There is nothing tentative about these kills. There's no experimentation. These guys know what they're doing."

"I don't know," Derek sighs.

"What are you thinking?"

"I can understand vandalism escalating into violence, but that's usually gradual. This? This feels fully evolved."

The local police can handle cleaning up the crime scene, so the team heads back to the BAU to discuss the details of the case and what the next steps should be. Spencer sits down inside the office, looks at your empty chair, and grows sad. JJ pulls up the details of every crime related to the case on the big screen.

"Okay, on September 3rd, fifteen luxury cars had their windows smashed. On September 14th, a new upscale clothing boutique was vandalized. On September 24th, two different restaurants, both catering to a wealthy clientele, had their front windows smashed and their interiors torn apart. Finally, on October 1st, a newly renovated townhome was ransacked before the family could move in."

"So, they went from attacking public property to a private residence, but no victim?"

"The question is, what makes them move from that to this?"

"The vandalism targets were all symbols of the neighborhood's changing makeup and economy. Maybe there's something specific about these victims that set the unsubs off."

"I've spoken to the victims' family members. They've agreed to come in and help however they can," JJ says.

"Garcia, check social networking sites and see if these unsubs have coordinated these attacks online."

"If they dare tweet, I shall flush them out like a bird dog, sir," Penelope declares and leaves the briefing room.

"We need to be asking how these unsubs manage to not stand out in this neighborhood. Each of these crime scene locations is a representation of new wealth and status, but the area surrounding the crime scenes is still populated by long-time residents who are slowly being pushed out."

"That's a lot of disenfranchised people who are all part of the neighborhood makeup. Most likely these unsubs don't stand out because they're probably local themselves."

"I don't know. I'm with Rossi," Emily says to Derek. "I mean, the anger I get, but this much violence? We're looking at at least three men with an incredible amount of rage. Where do you hide that?"

Hotch's phone rings and he sees it's Cheif Strauss calling. He excuses himself and steps into a nearby empty office to take the call.

"Good afternoon, Chief Strauss."

"Good afternoon. I bet you can guess why I'm calling."

"We're working hard on the assigned case. I'm confident my team can handle this."

"I'm not calling about that. I'm calling about Y/N and her arrest." Hotch's heart drops but he keeps his cool. "I'm surprised you didn't call me about this."

"I'm handling it, ma'am."

"Local police have been in contact with me about you. They do not want our help on this. I know it's difficult, but you cannot be working on her case. None of your team can."

"I understand," Hotch sighs.

"I mean it, Aaron. Stay out of this one and let the local police handle it. Your involvement wouldn't be the best idea considering she is under your supervision. I'd hate to have to replace a good team for something like this."

"Yes, ma'am."

Strauss hangs up and Hotch sighs in frustration. It's going to be a lot harder to get information on your case if the local PD is going to his boss about his involvement. He pockets his phone and walks to Penelope's office to see where she's at. He knocks once and enters only to see the details of your case on her computer screen. She has the different victims on display to see the connection, and Hotch shakes his head.

"Garcia, I need you to focus on the case at hand."

"Sorry, sir." She exits out of every tab pertaining to your case. "I have the information you were looking for. My list has seven hundred and thirteen hits."

"Okay. Listen, Strauss cut us off from working on Y/N's case. If she finds out you're looking into it, you can be fired. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Hotch leaves her office and rejoins Derek in the briefing room. "I had Garcia run records on anyone in the target area who in the last year was foreclosed upon, filed for bankruptcy, or applied for unemployment, and then narrowed that list down to men between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five."

"And?"

"Seven hundred and thirteen hits."

"The victims' families are here," JJ announces.

There are so many people inside the BAU that keep the entire team busy. Spencer has his part to do but he can't help but feel a bit distracted. His mind often drifts to you and what you might be doing right now.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write a Rossi x son reader who is in his 20’s he hasn’t seen Rossi for a few years and is working in a police department in another state, their paths end up crossing on a case, none of the bau knows he has a son apart from hotch so it ends up being a surprising, make up reunion.

David Rossi X Son Reader

Request: Hii! I was wondering if you could write a Rossi x son reader who is in his 20’s he hasn’t seen Rossi for a few years and is working in a police department in another state, their paths end up crossing on a case, none of the bau knows he has a son apart from hotch so it ends up being a surprising, make up reunion.

Third person pov...

In Seattle, Washington acting Captain

Y/N L/N-Rossi was stumped, sitting in his office he puts down the file he was holding, sighing tiredly he rubs his eyes with his hand.

The 20 year old had been working on the same case for weeks, with his team they haven't gotten far. There have been 3 bodies all found with a limb cut off.

Each male and caucasian, aged between 20 and 30 years old.

Y/N sighs looking at the time on his watch, 3.30am he had been up all night looking over the clues they had trying to find a break in the case.

Looking over at his phone he thinks about calling the BAU in Quantico for help, he looks at the old picture on his desk.

It was a picture from when he was 17 and just joined the police academy, he was determined to help people just like his father, SSA David Rossi.

Next to him in the picture stood his dad a smile on his face proud of his son. Y/N hadn't spoken to his Dad since that day.

When he graduated he rose quickly in ranks and became a Lieutenant, currently acting Captain as they are waiting on a new one.

Pushing himself he grabbed the phone and became pushing in the number for the BAU liason.

In Quantico Virginia 6.30am the team had just arrived to the bullpen. JJ stands apologetically as she hands files to each other the members.

The team each file into the round table room "It's to early for this" complains Emily Prentiss as she swollows down the rest of her coffee. Sitting next to her Derek Morgan agrees. "She right, couldn't this have waited?" He asks the blonde.

JJ shakes her head "no sorry guys, Seattle needs help" once everyone was sat JJ began. "Okay, 3 bodies have been found in seattle within the past two months, each killed with a blunt object and one thing taken from each"

"They each have one limb missing, each body had either an arm or leg missing" explains Spencer reading the autopsy report. Nodding her head JJ moved along with the slides.

"Each one a white male, between ages of 20 and 30" after going over victimology and other information the team set out for the jet.

As the jet takes off they begin talking, thought one member seemed distracted, that person David Rossi. As the team talk the man stared out of the jet window not answering when Hotch questions him.

"Dave? Dave you with us?" After being tapped on the shoulder he was shaken out of his thoughts, Rossi looked at the team as they stares at him.

"What?" He questions them, concerned for his friend Hotch looks at him concern in his brown eyes. "You spaced out on us Dave?"

"Yeah, you okay man?" Asks Derek, Dave shakes his head at the questions. "It's my son, he works at the station in seattle" gasps are heard

"You have a son?" Exclaimed Emily, as her and JJ whispered to each other excitedly. Spencer was as shocked as the rest of the team, knoeonr knew David Rossi had a son.

Apart from Hotch who had a neutral expression on his face. "You knew!" Yelled Emily pointing in the man's direction, Hotch just sighed. "Yes of course I do, I'm the kids Godfather!" More gasps where heard.

Then Penelope appeared on the screen. "What's shaken my loves" they all jump turning to the bright woman not realising she had appeared.

Pointing a finger accusingly at the man across from her JJ spoke "He just told us he has a Son!" She exclaimed, Penelope gasps throwing her hands to her mouth.

"You have a son! How did I not know this" she exclaims, everyone once again turns their attention back to the old man who wanted to die.

Clearing his throat he begins to explain about Y/N and his relationship. It had been years since he spoke to his son.

Rossi had never been particularly close with his son. It wasn't that he didn't love him, but their relationship had always been strained. They had clashed often, with Rossi's work as an FBI agent taking up most of his time and his son feeling neglected.

5hours later the jet lands in Washington Airport at 11.30am, once arriving the team make their way down to the Seattle police station.

once they arrived Rossi was filled with nerves as he was going to see his son again after almost 4 years of no communication.

Though a tinge of hope filled him as he made his way to the police department. Maybe he would run into his son, maybe they could finally have a chance to reconcile.

As the team walked in they were greeted by an eager looking young officer. "Hi! You must be the BAU I'm Officer buntly, Lieutenant L/N is in his officer" he exclaims his energetic puppy nature reminding them of a certain genius.

Hotch gives a strained smile. "Hello, nice to meet you Officer, yes that would be helpful if you show us the way" Nodding his head the young Officer showed them to the Acting Captians office.

Dave was surprised, his son acting Captain. As they approached the office, Officer Buntly knocked on the door. "Yes" cane a young male voice.

"Sir, the BAU have arrived" Yelled the Officer. "Bring them in" "See you later!" Waved the officer as he walked off back to his place. As he walked in Dave lost his words as his son stood from him desk.

The young man had certainly grown up since he last saw him, not longer having a found face filled with baby fat. Instead was a square jaw, a large frame built up muslin, dressed smartly in a suit no tie, top buttons undone slightly.

Once Dave saw those E/C eyes he was suddenly back when his son had been accepted into thr academy, wide E/C staring into his a proud smile on his face.

As the team gathered in his office Y/N stood up a smile on his face. "Hello thank you for coming down" he smiled at the team, thought expertly not looking his Father's way.

Hotch couldn't stop the smile appearing on his face as he saw how old his Godson had gotten. "Thanks for calling us Kid, it's been a while"Y/N offered up a smile.

Turning to the rest if the team he introduced himself. "Acting Captian Y/N L/N-Rossi, nice you have you here" he tells them, Dave was surprised.

"You do use Rossi as well as L/N" he couldn't help but speak, watching as the joy leaves his sons eyes slightly as thr young man turned towards him.

"Of course I do, though people forget most of the time" he let's a grins grace his face before they got started on the case.

The case was a tricky one, with little evidence to go on. But as the team delved deeper into the investigation, they found a lead that led them to a suspect who just happened to be in the city.

Rossi and the team quickly made their way to the address, guns at the ready.

Y/N and a couple of his officers join the BAU. Storming into the warehouse where the Unsub saws what he needs off his victims.

As the unsub turned around from victim number 4, he saw all the guns pointed his way and tried to run, before he could make it out the backdoor Y/N had him pinned to the ground.

"You are under arrest for the murder of 3 men" Yelled the H/C man, once the bastard was cuffed and read his miranda rights, Y/N put his gun away standing off to the side as the others took the unsub away.

Dave then walked over the young man. "So Captain huh?" He spoke, Y/N looked up a blush on his face. "Yeah, they didn't have a replacement yet and me being one of the best they told me to take it" he grimaced.

Rossi only grinned at the young man patting his back. "I'm proud of you son, so proud" he tells him, Y/N felt tears gather in his eyes. The few words he always wanted to hear from his dad.

Gripping the hand on his shoudler Y/N smiled. "Thanks Dad"

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot so sorry for the late update, sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes as usual.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1515

[em-prentiss]

I just reread I’ll ruin it all over, and over (like I always do) again and thought about how much I would love to read a second part. About Aaron and Emilys daughter and how she likes to play with the rings while Emily ist wearing them and sometimes stealing them to wear them herself.

I think this is quite possibly the cutest request I’ve ever gotten, I literally screamed yes when I saw it lol. I hope you enjoy <3

----

I’ll ruin it all over, and over (like I always do)

Chapter 2

Her hands shake as she touches another one of the rings. A row of tiny pearls in the middle is sandwiched on either side by gold bands. The pearls move when she touches them, sliding around smoothly between the gold. She spins them again and again, entranced by the movement.

Aaron notices Emily biting her nails, so he buys her worry rings.

Word count: 3.8k

----

Emily wasn’t surprised when Aaron proposed barely a year after her return.  They’d promised to take it slow, but there was an undercurrent of urgency beneath everything they did, always looking over their shoulders, anxious for another Foyet, another Doyle. Chaste dates quickly evolved to night-ins, and before long, half her closet had joined his.

Their wedding had been a quiet affair, their honeymoon an even quieter one. A ceremony at Dave’s house, a full two weeks of lounging around at home, content in Virginia. Emily hadn’t wanted the fuss of traveling; she just wanted Aaron, and Aaron wanted whatever she did.

Their first night alone had been slow, thick with love, Jack sleeping over at Jess’ house as they had the place to themselves, for the first time, as newlyweds. The apartment was quiet apart from Emily’s low laughter, Aaron’s soft murmurs, the intertwined sound of their gasps and their hushed I love you’s.

Between Aaron’s arms—in their bed, in the bath he’d drawn them later that night—Emily finally felt that she could stop running, that everything she’d ever wanted was fully in her hands. She was drunk on Aaron and drunk on the champagne and drunk on the sight of two rings on her left hand, her other bare fingers not striking any panic for once.

Sitting cross legged on the kitchen counter the next morning, dressed in Aaron’s shirt with a plate of their wedding cake balanced on her thigh, Emily thinks it’s impossible to top this moment. The house is so quiet she can hear the beat of her heart, but it’s not the kind of silence that makes her skin itch with its heaviness. It’s calming, like dunking her head underwater and muting all the noise of life, feeling the water fill her ears as the world around her dimmed to a hush.

Aaron steals a bite of her breakfast, his hand warm on her thigh to steady the plate. “We should probably eat some real food,” he tells her through a mouthful of chocolate and raspberry. 

His voice is low, because everything is infinitely softer in this pale yellow light. Emily glows despite the ungodly hour, her smile as real as it’s ever been since she came back. She reaches for him, lightly places her finger on his mouth as his eyes shine with amusement. 

Neither of them miss the glint of her rings in the sun.

“Shh, don’t ruin it, Aaron,” she scolds, though she’s sure nothing in the world could ruin this. She sets the plate on the counter and leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck. Aaron’s warm hands travel up her thighs and settle on her waist, lightly squeezing an apology through his shirt.

He hums out a, “Sorry,” into her cheek, but she ignores it. 

“You know what’s the one thing in the world better than cake for breakfast?” Emily asks, her eyes shining brighter in the soft sunlight.

Aaron smiles. “What?” He murmurs, his gaze dropping to a swipe of frosting on the corner of her lip.

That you’re my husband.

“We’ve got a two week vacation.”

****

“Aaron.”

The urgency in Emily’s voice forces him up from the couch. “Emily?” He goes to their room and finds her standing at her vanity, seemingly unharmed. “What’s wrong?” 

She’s frowning down at her left hand and tugging on the rings on her finger. Her fidget rings are strewn on the dresser, the red imprints of them fresh on her skin, but her wedding rings are still on.

“They’re stuck.” Her voice pitches higher as she tries to dig her nails beneath the bands. She pulls, but they don’t budge. 

Her chest caves as she breathes in sharply. “Will they have to be cut off?” Emily looks up at him, her lip trembling, “I don’t want to cut them off—”

“We’re not cutting them off.” Aaron says as he takes her hand in his. He grimaces at the tight skin around her rings, swollen and tinged an angry red. He tries tugging on her engagement ring but it’s lodged tight, unmoving. She lets out a quiet hiss.

Aaron swallows down a sigh. 

He told her to take them off days ago, all too familiar with this situation from his experience with Haley. She’s just a few weeks past her first trimester now, her stomach starting to curve gently over the waistline of her pants, and he saw this coming a mile away.

Emily had been shocked when she missed her period, despite all her OBGYN’s insistence that she should be able to have a relatively normal pregnancy. She’d never fully allowed herself to hope, not allowing Doyle to steal one more thing from her, always telling Aaron she’d be content without any kids, happy to be with just him and Jack. But the minute she saw the two pink lines, all pretenses were gone. 

So far, other than her alarming switch in moods, their struggles consist of near constant morning sickness and Emily ignoring all of Aaron’s hard-won advice—much to his dismay.

“Come on.” He tugs her to the bathroom and holds her hand under the tap. It takes some twisting and hissed curses, but eventually the water and a lathering of soap ease them free. The rings finally slip off and he washes the suds off them, shaking the water off before placing them on the counter with a clink.

Aaron gently dries the sore, red skin of her finger as Emily sighs in relief. “Thank fuck,” she mutters. She flexes her fingers and grimaces at the imprints of the rings on them.

“Be glad we didn’t have to break out the butter,” Aaron says dryly. He reaches for one of her lotions lined up on the sink and pumps a little on his skin before rubbing it into her finger. Emily hums as the cool lotion soothes her skin. “Will you listen to me this time?” He asks when he’s done.

She rolls her eyes. 

That’s a no.

“I hope that’s a yes,” he murmurs. “You can’t keep wearing them, Em.”

Immediately her face falls. She pulls her hand from his grasp and crosses her arms, her eyes suddenly going glassy as she looks down at the rings. “I don’t want to take them off, though.” Her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper.

Some part of her recognizes how ridiculous it is for her to be crying over something as insignificant as rings, but she can’t help it when the tears slip down her cheeks. She’s never allowed herself to get attached to materialistic things, but the rings are different. All the ones Aaron gave her; her wedding band, her engagement ring, the fidget rings in gold and silver. They’ve become part of her, extensions of her hands that she turns to whenever anxiety grips her, and the thought of not having any of them on makes her breathing a little tight.

Aaron wraps an arm around her shoulders, seemingly unfazed at the sudden change in her mood as he kisses her temple. “I know you don’t, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gently squeezing her arm as she ducks her head. “But it’s just temporary. You’ll wear them again when the baby’s here.” He attempts poorly at consolation, his words having no effect on his wife as her shoulders continue to shake.

Emily sniffles and presses her palms into her eyes to roughly wipe the tears off. “This is ridiculous,” she says thickly, her voice cracking. “They’re just rings, why am I crying?” 

“Maybe because of the human you’re growing inside of you?” Aaron suggests, somehow both dry and loving as he pulls her into a hug. He rubs gentle circles on her back and presses his lips to her hair as she sniffles, her hands tentatively hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants. “It’s not ridiculous, Emily. It’s perfectly reasonable for you to be attached to them.” He soothes, his voice soft. “Hell, I wouldn’t want to take my ring off for anything.” He admits.

That takes her by surprise. “Really?” She looks up at him, her eyes bloodshot and damp, the tip of her nose red.

He smiles and catches a tear as it falls. “Of course, Ems. It’s a reminder of you and I’d never want to let that go.” Gently, he wipes her cheeks to dry them from the salt.

More tears pool at her lash line and she presses her lips together tightly. “That’s sappy.” Emily clears her throat and steps away from his hold, turning to grab her rings from the counter.

Aaron chuckles as she avoids his eyes. “Sorry.” He follows her out of the bathroom. “Haley wore them on a chain when she was pregnant, you could do that,” he tells her, but she’s already way ahead of him as she rummages through her jewelry box and holds out a thin silver chain. Aaron smiles and takes it from her along with the rings, looping them through it and holding up the makeshift necklace. 

Emily chews on her lip and sighs in defeat, holding her hair up as Aaron comes to stand behind her. The chain is cool when he fastens it around her neck, her rings lightly hitting her chest and kissing the freckled skin above her heart. She brings a hand up to touch them, two of her fingers looping through each of the rings.

“Better?” Aaron asks, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

It’s not the same, but it’s similar enough. And the reason is more than worth it.

“Better.”

****

Olivia had always been fascinated by her rings. 

At 8 months old, the bright glint of them started catching her attention. At 11 months old she’d try to pry them off Emily’s fingers, a frown on her face as she tugged hard to no avail, Emily’s thumbs on the rings holding them in place.

A few weeks after her first birthday, on the second anniversary Emily foolishly thought would have no effect on her, Olivia toddled to her shaking mother and placed tiny, chubby hands over larger, trembling ones. Her sharp, too long nails had scratched against Emily’s knuckles as she clumsily spun the rings around, giggling and clapping when they twirled in a blur of silver light.

The air returned to Emily’s lungs as her daughter sat playing with her rings. Her had vision sharpened, focusing on dark brown curls and eyes exactly like the ones she’d fallen in love with. The twist of Olivia’s lips was just the same as hers, the slope of her nose a carbon copy, reminding Emily she was alive, alive, and Ian Doyle was not.

“’retty!” Olivia had squealed, a garbled nonsense of still softly forming words, and she slowly tethered Emily back to reality.

The breath she took rattled, caught in her throat, but Emily finally moved her hands and wrapped them around her daughter, lifting her up and bringing her into her lap.

Her tears had fallen on the dark hair tucked under her chin, the bow she’d pinned there earlier that day getting soaked with salt as Emily breathed in and out, felt the rise and fall of Olivia’s back as she breathed in with her. Her daughter’s hands found her rings again, and Emily shakily laughed into Olivia’s hair, the sweet stream of indecipherable babbles loosening the tightness in her chest.

At 2, seated on Emily’s lap and ignoring her brother as he kicked the ball into the goal, Olivia let out delighted giggles at the way Emily’s rings caught the sun. She spun them for hours, holding Emily’s hands hostage while she played—first the right hand, then the left, rendering Emily incapacitated.

Somewhere between 3 and 4, Olivia started begging her parents for rings and scowled in disapproval when Aaron and Emily would hand her ring pops, much to her dismay. “Like Mommy’s,” she’d insist with furrowed brows, but it was one thing they were steadfast about, even in the face of her huge puppy eyes. Sliding gummy ringlets onto her fingers and eyeing Emily’s rings with envy, Olivia paraded around with the candies on until the artificial coloring seeped into her skin—or, until hunger prevailed.

When was 5, endlessly stubborn and entirely unsatisfied with gummies, she began her journey of trying to replicate them. Rings of paper, pipe cleaners, and Play-Doh have come and gone, colorful shavings left in their wake, bits of clay finding their way under Olivia’s nails as she intently tried to duplicate her mother’s. To her dismay they never lasted long, no matter the type of clay her father bought her, no matter how snugly her mother tied paper straws around her fingers.

Finally fed up, at 6, she begins stealing the rings.

When Emily opens up her jewelry box and doesn’t find two of her gold rings, she has an inkling as to where they might’ve gone.

Or who might’ve taken them.

Sticking her head in her daughter’s room, she bites back a smile when she finds her sitting at her little tea party set, a plastic crown on her head as she fiddles with the two rings on her fingers. They match her princess Rapunzel dress, the one Aaron bought for her when they went to Disney World. 

Emily tries to keep her lips from tilting upward as she walks in. “Livvy, what did we say about taking other people’s things?” She asks, fighting to keep her voice firm.

Her daughter looks up at her and immediately sulks at the look on her face. “I always have to ask.” She drones through a pout as Emily crosses the fluffy pink carpet and steps over a sleeping Sergio, her gaze reprimanding.

Emily sits down and crosses her legs, struggling not to smile at the too-large rings on Olivia’s fingers. “Why didn’t you, then?” She brushes away the bangs hanging over her eyes, making a mental note to trim them soon.

“You were taking too long in the bathroom,” Olivia frowns. “I needed jewelry for my tea party,” she murmurs under her breath, tripping over the new word she’d learnt at school. Her attention is quickly stolen away as she spins the gold sun on one of the rings, her lips turning up in a smile when it spins smoothly in a blur of yellow.

Emily gently tips her chin up and gives her a pointed look.

“Sorry, Mommy,” Olivia mumbles. Her honey brown eyes boring pleadingly into Emily’s, twin copies of Aaron’s, and she feels herself melt.

Emily sighs. “It’s okay, Liv. You’ll ask next time though, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia nods vigorously. “Pinky promise.” She says, bright and solemn all at once, a seamless mix of both her parents. She sticks out her small finger and Emily wraps her own pinky around it, finally allowing herself to smile. 

“Okay then.” She kisses Olivia’s forehead, squeezing their pinkies together before letting go. Her eyes drop to the rings hanging almost comically from her daughter’s fingers. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

“Yeah! I like the flower.” Olivia presses her finger to the eight point sun, the light touch sending it spinning again.

Emily’s heart warms as she fiddles with the rings. It makes her feel bubbly inside, the thought that these rings that helped her through a hard time could also bring comfort to her daughter. Olivia always loved to play with them, even when Emily herself wore them. Countless times she’d sat her daughter on her lap and looked down to find tiny fingers spinning her rings, Olivia fidgeting with them with her tongue peeking out.

Wearing them has become habit more than anything, a sentimental way of keeping Aaron with her at all times. She hardly ever turns her anxiety to her cuticles anymore, the long instilled habit of twirling a ring around her finger efficient enough at expelling her nervous energy. 

She feels an irrational attachment to them, keeping her gold rings in her jewelry box even after Aaron had gotten her the silver set, something in her roiling at the thought of giving them away even though she doesn’t wear them anymore.

However, Emily thinks it’s possible someone could appreciate them even more than she does.

“Tell you what,” she murmurs now as Olivia moves a ring from her index finger to her thumb, “I don’t really wear these rings anymore, but I need to be sure they’re always safe.” She pauses, capturing her daughter’s attention again. The little girl’s eyes widen as Emily holds her hand and feels the rings against her skin, still cold, Olivia’s fingers too small to warm them up. “Can you hold on to them for me? Keep them safe?”

Her reaction is immediate. “Yes!” Olivia squeals, her eyes lighting up. “Thank you, Mommy!”

Emily chuckles as she catapults into her chest, the sound breaking off into a breathless grunt as Olivia wraps her arms tight around her neck. She hugs her back, getting a brief glimpse of the seemingly many years ago her daughter was attached to her hip. “You’re welcome, mon coeur. Take good care of them, ’kay?”

“Okay!” She beams. Slipping from her mother’s hug, she sits down on her lap, and Emily’s grin widens as her feet fall into the space between her crossed legs.

“Good girl.” She presses a kiss to her temple. “But you can’t wear them like this, they’ll fall off.” Emily unclasps her necklace and slides the charm off it, setting it on Olivia’s tea table with a clink. The sound makes Sergio’s eyes lazily slit open as she slides the large rings from her daughter’s fingers.

“I won’t lose them like this.” Olivia says as she watches Emily intently.

“Yeah, this’ll keep them safe.” Emily murmurs. “You know,” she muses as she slips both rings through the chain, “when you were in my belly, I got so big I also had to wear my rings on a chain.” Her lips twitch at the memory.

Her daughter gapes at her. “All of ’em?” She asks as Emily fastens the makeshift necklace around her neck.

Emily laughs. “No, silly.” She wrinkles her nose playfully, prompting Olivia to laugh. Once the chain is secure she shows Olivia her wedding rings.

“Just these two,” Emily says softly. Her lips turn up in a smile when Olivia touches them curiously, her small fingers searching over the diamonds. “These were the most important ones, you know why?”

Olivia’s brows furrow. She shakes her head.

“Because these two mean that me and Daddy are tied together super tight.” Emily whispers, taking her daughter’s small hand and linking their pinkies together. “Like a pinky promise.” She says. 

Olivia’s eyes widen. “And you can’t break a pinky promise.” She exclaims, her voice awed.

Emily nods, “That’s right. When you get married, you wear rings like these and they let everyone know that you and someone else are tied super tight, just like a promise. And nobody can come between the two of you.” Her lips lift up in a smile as wonder shines in her daughter’s eyes, pure and bright as a star. “They’re special, aren’t they?”

“Yeah!” Olivia yells, her voice excited as she untangles their pinkies and smooths her fingers over Emily’s rings again. “Can I get them too?” She pleads, her bangs falling charmingly over her eyes.

Emily laughs brightly and brushes them to the side. “When you’re much, much older.” She straightens her crown, slips her necklace charm into her pocket before Sergio can swallow it, and graciously accepts her daughter’s invitation to tea.

For the whole week, Olivia parades around with her new necklace hanging proudly from her neck. She doesn’t take it off even at Emily’s prodding, not at bathtime or school or before going to bed.

“I see someone’s been walking around with a new necklace,” Aaron comments one day as they’re in the kitchen, looking for a snack to quieten the kids’ hunger until dinner, “finally gave in to the princess of persuasion?” A knowing, annoying glint brightens his eyes.

Emily smiles wryly, “I figured this would give her less of a chance to practice stealing them behind my back. Plus, they’re too big.” She shrugs. “They couldn’t do much harm on a chain.” 

“Hmm, we could shrink them down.” Aaron ventures as Emily wraps her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to get closer. His hands circle her waist, comfortably finding the grooves that curve with his palms. “To say, a size three?”

She laughs. Of course his solution would be to alter them. “I don’t know about now, maybe when she’s older. She’s still too much of a baby to wear them yet.” Her hand slides into his hair and she sees the glint of her own rings, shining brightly between the dark strands.

Aaron hums and she feels it in her skin, “She turns seven in two months.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Emily drops her head on his shoulder, as if to hide from the reality. Nestling closer beneath his jaw, she sighs into his neck, her eyes fluttering shut as he sympathetically rubs her back. It seems forever ago that these silver rings had been gold, that her fresh wound had yet to scar.

“You ever wanna stop time?” She whispers.

“Always.” Aaron squeezes her gently. In the slow pace of their kitchen, warm sunlight streaming in through the windows and the laughter of their kids floating in from the living room, it’s more than easy to understand. “But each day I get to see our kids grow and learn,” he presses a kiss to her hair, inhales the soft honeysuckle scent he now associates with home, “and for that, I can’t be anything but grateful.”

He’s right, even if Emily can’t appreciate it at all times. Though she resents the slow ache in her body, the hidden gray hairs making an appearance as the years pass, she could never feel anything but love for the way Jack sprouts above her one summer, the way Olivia suddenly adopts Aaron’s chiding tone when she catches her sneaking brownies before dinner.

Before long she blinks and her daughter is at the restless age of 12, no longer content with her rings on a chain, imploring Emily to actually wear them. 

On her next birthday, Emily finally hands her the same white box Aaron gave her over a decade ago. Olivia’s eyes grow wide and she grins brightly, launching into her mother’s arms just as she had when she was six. As Emily squeezes her back, her eyes meeting Aaron’s over their daughter’s shoulder, she wonders where the time went, and how exactly she got this lucky.

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 157. brb x oc

a/n: 😬 well, it was getting too fluffy anyway (reblogs and comments are super encouraged <3)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff then um...well!

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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-

So

He was a bit wrong.

Mav didn’t faint but he did cry. Quite a lot, he stood up and hugged both of them while crying, literally sobbing. He was happy, very happy by the new pregnancy. Was it a bit shocking? Of course it was, but Maverick didn’t complain about it, he just said they’d do a great job…and that bring them back to the conversation Bradley wanted to have with Bea.

With Pete back home and the three of them alone, Rooster sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed with Nicole, Beatrice walking away to take her shower and get ready for the night, “Gorgeous.”

‘Yeah?”

“I was thinking,” he begins, playing with Nicole’s tiny hands and smiling as she gurgles at him and he leans back on the bed to keep her on his chest, letting his daughter sit on his stomach and hold onto his fingers, “Since I’ll…leave soon…we should go out. You know, on a date.”

There’s a sudden stop of any movement from the bathroom, Beatrice comes out wearing only her robe and with her clothes for the night in her hold, “Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since we did that.”

She chuckled in confusion, “So, the one week in Virginia wasn’t a date?”

“No, it was family time.”

“Hmmmm…” she squints her eyes suspiciously at him, ‘Do you have anything in mind then? Anything I should think about?”

“Not yet,since I don’t know when I’m going, only that’ll be soon.” he explains, watching her go back into the bathroom, leaving him and Nicole, ‘I want us to have some time with Nikki,” his daughter smiles, maybe she already knows her name? “And then I’ll spend time with you.”

“Aw,Brad, you are so sweet.” she says as the doors close just enough to leave a creak open so they could speak to one another “...well,okay, if it works for you. I don’t want you to worry about it, you know I’d love anything you give me.”

“I know.” he says, gently swaying Nicole side to side, as if she was on a beat and his little girl laughs harder, “But…let me pamper my wife.”

“As if you don’t do it already.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a pause. “...no.”

He smirks as he kisses Nicole on the cheek. Maybe this was a bit too much, but he couldn’t really deny he wouldn’t like it. The idea of spending time with his girls was too much for him to ignore, he loved them, desperately so and all he wanted was to have it, this moment, with them without worries.

So yeah, he can do that. Even better, he will do that. “Come on Nikki, let’s get you covered up.” he sits on the bed in one swift movement that makes her laugh even more. He smiles, nuzzling her neck as he takes her out of the master bedroom, ‘God I’ll miss that giggle.”

“Dada!”

“Yes, dada will miss you a lot.” he coos as he kisses her hands, then her little nose, “Dada will never forget you when he’s away, you’ll never forget daddy either,right?” Nicole gurgles, hugging his face and giving the ‘gummy kisses’ she’s so used to doing, making the pilot laugh as he brings her closer to his chest.

He opens one of her dresser’s drawers, pulling out a small seafoam colored coat with tiny ducks on it, “Are we feeling ducks?” he holds for her to see, making Nicole turn towards the garment and reach for it, grabbing it tightly in her small hand, “We are feeling ducks. Good.” he places Nicole on the changing table, his little girl already knowing how to sit was a feat he never grew tired of, in fact he loved how she had both of her hands on top of her lap like a little lady, watching him move around.

He slides the coat on her little arms, fixing the collar and rubbing his hand on the soft duck patches on the fabric, ‘There we go.” he smirks, keeping eye to eye contact with Nicole, ‘You look absolutely perfect.” she giggles in a high pitched tone, clapping her little hands and letting him pick her up one more time, “You know, I think I’m gonna surprise mama tonight, what do you think?”

“Aaa!”

“Since we are both staying, hm? We can go get her a little something.”

“Aaa!”

“Yes,I knew you’d like that.” he comes back to their bedroom only to find Beatrice already had her pants on and was currently putting on her earrings, muttering to herself as she walks around the room. She does notice them, giving the two a brief smile and then tugs the sneakers from under the bed, “Look.” he holds Nicole in front of him like she’s Simba, “Doesn’t she look adorable?”

Beatrice looks up from sliding her shoe and smiles, “She does,Roos.” she says, “Are you sure it’ll be okay for you to stay tonight?’

“I am sure.” he says, “Are you sure you will be okay?”

“I am.” she smiles even more, “Believe me,I have to tell Penny about it and tonight is the only night I can do so.” she explains as she’s finished, pulling her hair up in a ponytail, “Then, well, I think she’ll let me work until I reach…five months? Pretty much? Or less, last time it was like that, so…”

“As long you don’t get hurt or worry too much about it.”

Beatrice tilts her head at him, adoration on her face as she turns her body partially towards him, one hand on her hip, “You are too sweet.”

“I have to be.” he smirks, “Cause so are you.”

“If we continue with this I might never leave, so,” she grabs her bag to slide the strap over her shoulder, “Shall we?”

-

Nicole was sitting on the couch next to Rooster and the dogs, he was actually finishing some reports he chose to do when he got home since it wasn’t that hard to finish it up. He did flick his eyes from the paper to Nicole from time to time, her eyes locked on Dr.Chimp’s colorful episode, her little mouth slack as she supported her body on Eleanor’s large canine head, the white dog didn’t seem to care.

Rooster smirks, checking his phone briefly to see if Beatrice was alright - she hadn’t sent him any messages yet so he assumed the bar was full and she had no time…and he shouldn’t worry, that was going to be okay. He was going to be okay,right? He was, he had Nicole, he had the tv and the dogs and he had…a few reports to finish, so he should do it now. 

“Someone told me the amount of reports you did while in the Navy,” he mutters, “And I was dumb enough to not believe them.” he turns to Nikki who just looks back at him with her large green eyes, “You should always believe in people Nikki…well not always, but when it comes to a job you want, you should trust the ones who’ve been there longer, you hear?”

“Aa!”

“Damn right, baby girl.” he taps her nose with his index finger, “Damn right.”

Rooster returns his attention to the reports, focusing on the task at hand. The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm ambiance in the room, and the dogs curl up at his feet, providing a sense of companionship. As he delves into his work, his mind wanders to the upcoming deployment and the challenges that lie ahead.

He knows that being away from Beatrice and Nicole will be difficult. The thought of leaving them behind fills him with a mixture of pride and anxiety. But he's determined to fulfill his duty and return to them safely. They are his motivation to persevere through any obstacles that may come his way.

Was it going to be extremely hard no matter how often he thinks about it?

Yes.

Was he going to manage it?

…yes.

He frowns a bit, tapping the end of his pen against the pile of papers, rubbing his chin with his free hand. This…deployment seemed different, not only there were the new pilots and the seasoned ones, but everything was so hush-hush that Rooster didn’t know what to expect. The uncertainty gnawed at him, adding an extra weight to his already heavy heart. He knew he couldn't control the circumstances or the challenges that awaited him, but he could control how he approached them.

Rooster took a deep breath, pursing his lips as he taps the pen against the paper one more time. He glanced over at the wedding photos on the nearby shelf—the moments frozen in time, filled with love and laughter, he remembers that day vividly, and next to it were the newborn pictures of Nicole. She looked like a tiny little burrito…in fact, one of his favorite photos was exactly like that. 

He should know more about this mission, if he was to lead a team, he had to know more. He tried asking others about it, but they were as much in the dark as he was. He knew that the younger pilots’ presence could only mean that they were also there to learn…so would it really be that dangerous? 

As he closed his eyes, memories flashed through his mind—training exercises, difficult missions, moments of triumph and moments of loss. 

It could be very dangerous.

“Aaa.Dada.” Nicole’s gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts, her tiny hand holding onto his shirt and her big green eyes focused on him, “Buh buh, aa?”

“...what? Oh,” he checks the time, “Oh shit,we gotta eat,Nikki.” he was glad there was an excuse for him to stop filling those reports right now, picking Nicole up and taking her to the kitchen.

Rooster carries Nicole into the kitchen, a smile playing on his lips as she babbles and points at various objects around the room, she has no idea what they are but seeing them makes her very vocal. He sets her down in her high chair, making sure she's secure before starting to prepare their meal.

He decides that cooking tonight could be an even better distraction. As he rummages through the fridge, searching for ingredients, Nicole watches him with wide-eyed curiosity. She claps her hands and babbles excitedly, eager to participate in whatever her dada is doing. 

Rooster chuckles and hands her a plastic spoon to play with, knowing it will keep her entertained while he cooks. “You can’t help me yet, baby girl, but,” he leans down to meet her eyes, “When you are older, we can work on it.”

Nicole giggles as she shakes her spoon happily, bouncing a bit on the chair as Rooster goes back to the task at hand.

He begins chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filling the air and the lovely sound of Nicole babbling. It was just going to be a stir fry, because it was quick and he could have it with Nicole…and Beatrice loved it. The familiar scent of spices and herbs wafts through the kitchen, creating an atmosphere of comfort.

He needed that, just so he could push the thoughts aside, just for a second.Cooking has always been a way for him to find solace, he got that from his mother. During college he mainly lived off Cup Noodles and fast food. “...because I was heavily depressed.” he muttered to himself arching his brows up high, “Fuckin’ bad,I swear. Don’t eat noodles like that Nikki, it’s bad for you.”

“Aa?”

“Yes, bad for you…but they do taste good sometimes.” he is just trying to ease his mind…who else would wonder what this mission was about? Maybe…Jake? No, he doesn’t know. Payback? Nah…neither does Maverick, “I hate being kept in the dark like that, it doesn’t help during the mission.” he says, glancing over at his daughter, who is now happily banging the spoon against her high chair tray, "I know honey, it sucks.”

“Aa!”

“Anyway, while this cooks, what are you feeling tonight? How about,” he opens the fridge, looking around the space for a few seconds, “How about some…uhhhh carrot and sweet potato?’ he grabs the container and checks the label, “Seems nice,I think your nonna made this one, it’s…heavy.” God bless Beatrice’s parents because even like that they always wanted to help.

Rooster chuckles at Nicole's enthusiastic babbling, amused by her antics. He takes the container of carrot and sweet potato baby food from the fridge, inspecting it and reading the label before he heats it up in the microwave. He appreciates the effort put in by Beatrice's parents to help out, even if it means sometimes the food can be a bit heavy for his taste.

But it is pretty good, he did try it a few times with Beatrice.

He keeps an eye on the stove and on the microwave, obviously the microwave is faster and he’s able to grab it to take it towards Nicole"Well, Nikki, let's give it a try, shall we?" he says, scooping a small portion of the carrot and sweet potato mash onto a spoon. He blows on it gently to cool it down before bringing it towards Nicole's waiting mouth.

Nicole opens her mouth eagerly, her eyes fixated on the spoon, eyes crossed and little hands on the tray. Rooster carefully feeds her the first spoonful, watching her reaction closely. As she tastes the new flavor, her face goes from ‘what the hell is this’ to ‘oh this is not so bad!’. She smacks her lips and babbles happily, clearly enjoying the combination of carrots and sweet potatoes.

"Looks like we have a winner!" Rooster exclaims, smiling at his daughter's enthusiastic response. He continues feeding her, making sure to go at a pace that she's comfortable with, allowing her to explore and savor each spoonful. “You are just such a fancy little girl,huh? When your mom and I were kids? The shit we had should’ve been radioactive, but here we are.”

His own food is done by the time he’s still feeding Nicole and he can, amazingly, multitask. He does pause every now and again to make sure Nikki was enjoying herself - okay he does get one bite and blinks hard ‘holy shit, this shouldn’t be so good’. His brain is now less worried, the thought was still there but there was no way he was going to let it ruin his night with Nicole.

Maybe he could get some of the flowers from their garden and set it for Beatrice, “She’d hate it though, so maybe not.”

“Aa!”

“I know honey,I know.” he gives her another spoonful just as he takes another bite.Rooster continues to feed Nicole, savoring the taste of his own meal in between.

Rooster finishes feeding Nicole and sets aside her empty bowl alongside his in the sink, before coming back to wipe her mouth and hands with a cloth. He scoops her up once she’s clean and carries her with him out of the kitchen just after he turns the dishwasher on.

“There we go.” he sets her down back on her spot on the couch, surrounded by the dogs and he goes back to his reports, turning the tv back to Dr.Chimp. He sighs, continuing to file his reports with his head much lighter and his stomach fuller, thinking how he could surprise Beatrice when she gets home.

She needs something good, that’s for sure.

His line of thought stops when the phone rings, luckily it was close enough for him to reach it. It was strange to receive a call so late at night, but he does pick it up, ‘Bradshaw household, Bradley speaking.”

“...Brad?”

“Leo,hi. What a surprise.”

“...i-is my sister home?”

“Bea? No she’s working tonight, why?”

“Fuck,I forgot she had work! Shit!Fuck–”

He had never heard Leonardo so…distraught, almost in tears. He stands up straighter on the couch, ‘What’s going on?”

“Fuck.Brad…it’s dad. Our dad, he–h-he’s in the hospital.”

Rooster's heart drops at Leonardo's words, an unbearable silence taking over. The news about Rafael being in the hospital catches him completely off guard, so much he loses his voice for a few seconds. He struggles to find the right words to respond, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"What? Leo, slow down. What happened to him? Is he okay?" Rooster asks, his voice laced with urgency.

Leonardo takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line before responding. "I...I don't know all the details yet. Mom found him unconscious at home. She called an ambulance, and they rushed him to the hospital. They think it might be a heart attack or something... I'm on my way there now. I-I wanted to let Bea know,I contacted Mike and Mari, but…"

Rooster's mind whirls as he tries to process the news. Concern for his father-in-law floods his thoughts, and he can't help but feel a sense of helplessness being so far away.

As he stands there, alone in the living room, Rooster's mind goes back to the romantic evening he had planned for Beatrice. But now, everything feels different. His focus shifts to how he’ll break the news to her…and…during her delicate state, “....fffuck…fuck.”

“What?”

“...do you want me to take Bea there?”

“...i…yeah, it’d be nice. She…well, if– I can call-”

“No,no, no it’s fine. I’ll give her a call.” fuck how is he going to break that up to her? She was pregnant. How is he going to tell her that her father is in the hospital?? And while she’s at work? “Fuck-fuck, no it’s,I can call her.”

“...thanks Brad.I-I’ll keep you updated,okay?”

“Yeah,yeah sure. Thanks Leo…bye.” his hand feels heavy as he sets the phone down, keeping his palm on top as his eyes clench and his entire body feels heavy. This was not the surprise he was hoping to give Bea.

[hsgwrld-archive]

-JUST FRIENDS. P.SH

-pairing : best friend!Sunghoon x gn!reader

Genre : fluff ,, angst (?)

-inspired : just friends - Virginia to Vegas!

-wc: 1036!

Warning : mention of smoking ,kinda drinking (?)

Sunghoon being asshole at some point.

-100.flw masterlist

Note - big thank you to @redm4ri for helping me !!!. This is first story from 100followers masterlist !! Anyways I hope everyone who reads it enjoy this 😸feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻

taglist : @wanna-live-yn-life | @ddenoudepression

——-

“Friends?” It was exactly 2 years ago that Sunghoon asked you to be his friend. It was the start of high school, you met him through a mutual friend

Now everything is changing slowly. You developed feelings for him but just as a friend right? It was hard to understand. He treated you more like a lover, less than a friend.

And you're telling me you wanna kiss me

But we shouldn't 'cause we're just friends

“Sunghoon we shouldn't," You lightly pushed his face away from you with your hand, his face getting red with every moment as he stared at you. Walking together home from practice, you never knew Sunghoon would wanna kiss you. But you both knew that shouldn't happen.

“Why not y/n, tell me why not“ groaning Sunghoon said, looking straight into your eyes.

“We are just friends right?”

“yea we are”

Smoke a cigarette and talk shit about exes,

Take a couple shots and see where the night ends.

Another weekend, there you were, standing beside Sunghoon with a cigarette between his fingers. It was a chilly night. At a party Heeseung hosted. It wasn't a party but more like a gathering.

You believe Sunghoon saw his ex, at this point, He knew she hated seeing him smoking so why not show her that he doesn't care anymore? The only thing Sunghoon wasn't aware of was your feelings. You hated seeing him like this and it hurts.

“Have you seen her?” you turned your whole body towards him while leaning on the balcony railing. You crunched your face in disgust when Sunghoon exhaled the last blunt. The smell was disgusting. Sunghoon turned his face toward you.

"Yes, I saw her, but I don't care anymore. I'm glad I broke up with her. The rumours about her lately are disturbing."

Sunghoon let out a small chuckle. He threw the cigarette away and fully turned towards you.

"And y/n, you should forget about Jake, I saw you staring at him“

The second most thing you hated about this gathering was Jake, your stupid ex. He made you so happy, but it didn't last long. But at least you have Sunghoon now.

“Let's forget about them both, let's go take some shots and let's see how the night will end”

Tomorrow when it's over and we're sober

I just want to believe that you'll miss me

That shouldn't have happened. The kiss shouldn't have happened in the first place. It was a huge mistake, right? Everything happened too fast, from getting drinks at the counter to sharing a kiss on the couch. For you, the whole night was blurry, but the moment you both shared was stuck in your head.

You were regretting everything that happened. The question was what Sunghoon was thinking at this moment. Was he upset about it? Or did he not want to see you anymore? Days go by. You didn't see Sunghoon at school, you wished he missed you as you miss him. He didn't even bother to call you or text. You would be happy if you get a small text saying 'I hope you're doing okay' but you can only wish for that.

Hoping Sunghoon hasn't turned his back on you at this moment, and that he still sees you as his best friend.

Days still go by. That is, you thought two years of friendship was gone.

Going home from school, you were almost there. You never thought of seeing him in front of your door. Wait what?

There he was standing, with flowers in hand. Wait? Flowers.

“What are you doing here?” you narrowed your eyes at him. Almost four days went without him talking to you, and now he is in front of your house, smiling at you.

“I wanted to see you, and I missed you“ he smiled, stepping closer to you, and embracing you in a hug. You feel your cheeks heating up. Maybe you liked him more as a friend, but he didn't see you that way, right?

Sunghoon explained he didn't reach out to you because his phone was broken, and had family business to attend to.

Stop pretending like we're just friends

It has been a week since he showed up in front of your house. Something has changed. He treats you differently? More like a lover than a friend? You were sure of it this time. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead when you both hang out in public. It was giving you a headache. Confusion, everything he said was confusing.

Once again he was at your house. For the usual movie marathon you both have.

That is, you thought, you needed to ask him. Pausing the movie, what was going on in the background, turning full attention towards Sunghoon, who was sitting beside you on the couch.

‘“Hoon, what are we?”

‘“we are good friends y/n”

Friends? It was the biggest bullshit you have ever heard from Sunghoon. But this made your heart shatter.

Just friends? His words were stuck in your head.

Friends don't treat each other like we do.

Friends don't kiss each other randomly.

“You're lying to yourself and to me Sunghoon" you exclaimed, your voice breaking. Tears escape your eyes, taking your head between your hands. It wasn't your first time crying in front of Sunghoon. Failing a grade or a boy rejecting you, it was always Sunghoon who comforted you about everything but this time it was different. You were crying because of him.

Sunghoon understands your feelings, it hurts him too, seeing you like this. He knew to him, you weren't just a friend but something more. He was scared to hurt you. You two were too opposite. Sunghoon was a so-called cold type and didn't care about grades or others' feelings but when it came to you, He wanted to be the better version just for you.

Sunghoon wished to be more than friends.

Seeing you crying broke his heart more than ever.

Moving closer to you, putting his hand on your back and rubbing it. A smile broke on his lips.

“Maybe I am lying to myself, and we should stop pretending that we are just friends“

[starlightswitch]

Lost: Heirloom Ring

@flashfictionfridayofficial I did this sort of story years ago for Writer's Month and to my surprise it got more interest than normal for me; I wonder what will happen this time?

10:27PM You didn’t tell me you got home so I’m hoping that means you forgot and not that you were in an accident or something.

I got home

Okay

10:38PM I don’t even want to tell you this.

What?

10:50PM I lost the ring – It could literally be anywhere – What am I going to tell Grandma?

Okay don’t – Sorry I didn’t mean to hit send there. I mean this in the nicest way possible but don’t be dramatic. It couldn’t literally be anywhere.

I mean basically – I made the most stops possible on the way home – I got gas twice because the first place was expensive and I got a coffee so I needed an extra bathroom stop – It could be any of those places – I should have left it on my finger. Then I would at least know when it went missing

Or it could have fallen off your finger and rolled down a storm drain. Breathe, okay?

Grandma is going to kill me

Grandma is not going to kill you

She might disown me

Uh, no

She might hate me for the rest of her life and then come back and haunt me

Oh my god. Get back to me when you’re calm enough to remember what Grandma is like.

Ha ha ha ha – Can you at least kind of sympathize? I LOST THE RING

Yes I got that. I have an idea. Where were all those places you stopped?

The usual. The Wawa halfway, that Little River Coffee Co, the usual rest stop, and that last Sheetz before home. Don’t tell me to go back to all of them and look

Of course not

Grandma would call that a fool’s errand

That much driving? It would be a fool’s *quest*. Nope, I’m going to post about it and tag them all

Oh – How are you going to tag a rest stop?

I’m going to tag the Department of Transportation

Jess Kalin Monday, 8:15AM Yesterday, at brunch with my little sister Ella at the amazing Back Door, my grandma gave each of us a piece of jewelry that belonged to our mother (who you may know passed away a few years ago). To me, the pearl necklace she wore for her senior picture and graduation. To Ella, a gold ring studded with tiny emeralds– green being Mom’s and Ella’s shared favorite color. The ring was a tiny bit big for Ella, so she tucked it in her pocket.

After her seven-hour drive home, Ella found the ring was gone.

We are hoping against hope it can be found where she stopped along the way. I’ll drop the exact locations in the comments. @Wawa, @Sheetz, @LittleRiverCoffeeCompany, @VirginiaDepartmentOfTransportation can anyone help us?

Virginia Department of Transportation Not Responding to Comments About Missing Ring Monday, 3:51PM The Virginia Department of Transportation has turned off comments on a post on their Facebook page asking if they will help in the search for a missing ring.

Yesterday afternoon, the Department was tagged in a post by Facebook user Jess Kalin. Kalin’s sister, Ella, apparently lost a ring, a family heirloom that had just been passed down to her, on an interstate drive. The now-viral post led Facebook user Lisa Kowalski to post on the Department of Transportation’s page requesting they help with the search for the ring. The post garnered dozens of comments in a few hours…

7:16PM Hey, isn’t the Back Door the restaurant you really like with the pierogis on the brunch menu?

Yeah, why?

There’s this article about this whole thing with a missing ring and the DOT. I just thought it was interesting the ring apparently got given to the person in the first place at the Back Door (link)

Oh my god

Back Door Restaurant Monday, 8:27AM FOUND: Ring. By the table one back from the window on the wall by the parking lot. (Pic is of the table we mean.) Describe to claim. Please spread the news if you know someone who was here yesterday, it’s a beautiful ring and we’re sure the owner wants it back!

Missing Ring Safe and Sound, “Most People Want to Help” Tuesday, 12:01PM A ring thought to have been dropped somewhere on the long drive from eastern Virginia to western North Carolina has been found.

The ring was given to Ella Kalin by her grandmother, Betty Sorochman, at popular brunch restaurant the Back Door on Sunday. When Kalin arrived home that evening, she discovered the ring was missing and assumed she must have lost it on the drive, prompting her sister Jess to take to Facebook.

Jess Kalin’s plea for help went viral. The manager of the Wawa where Ella stopped contacted Jessica, promising to alert her if the ring was found there. The Virginia Department of Transportation’s Facebook page received an influx of comments asking them to search for the ring at the rest stop where Ella Kalin stopped; the Department did not respond.

However, the ring had never left the restaurant. Employees at the Back Door found the ring Sunday and made a Facebook post Monday morning asking their followers to spread the news to help find the ring’s owner. Marya Logan is the follower who recognized the possible connection to the viral post about the missing ring. She contacted Jess Kalin and sent her the Back Door’s post. Jess confirmed the ring must be her sister’s.

Betty Sorochman went to the restaurant to reclaim the ring, which she will return to Ella. The ring originally belonged to Sorochman’s daughter Kimberly, Jess and Ella’s mother. Kimberly (Sorochman) Kalin passed away in 2019. Sorochman says she would love the story of the lost and found ring. “Kimmie loved a good story, so it’s only fitting now there’s one about her ring,” Sorochman says. “And she always said most people want to help, so if she found out how many people stepped in to help find her ring, she’d say, ‘See, I knew it’.”

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 4

I don't know how it's possible, but we're already almost halfway through! You all have made this so much fun, and it's been an utter delight for me so far. 💜 If you're joining for the first time, you can catch up as follows: Day 1 Day 2 Day 3

As a reminder, there will be a post around this time (9pmish EST) every night through 2/14. And for those who are all caught up, welcome to day 4 of Love Letters, a 00q choose your own adventure! Congratulations, fellow nerds, you've unlocked the library. Day 4 starts below the cut.

His next stop should probably be to the library.

“Can I help you find anything?” A librarian with bright pink hair and a beard to match walked up to where Bond lingered in front of the new acquisitions shelf, trying to get his bearings.

Bond opened his mouth to decline, but he only had an hour and a half before he had to be back at MI6 for a meeting with the Budget Office, and not much idea where to start. Besides, he’d made sure nothing he borrowed could be traced to him, anyway. He’d taken out the library card in Mallory’s name.

“I don’t suppose you have any books on love letters?”

“Books about love letters? Or with examples of them?”

“Yes. Both. Either.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I pulled a few things that might be of interest for our Valentine’s Day display. It’s just over here.”

Bond followed the librarian, whose name badge read “Kai,” to a table decorated with construction paper drawings of candy hearts. They picked up a book called Indelible: Queer Love Letters through the Ages. “This just came in last month, and it’s gorgeous. Give it a look and see if it’s what you need.”

Bond took the book to one of the nearby tables and began to page through.

Before he knew it, nearly an hour had gone by. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, exactly. Perhaps that love letters from real people would be somehow less than the fictional letter Austen had written for Captain Wentworth—less profound, and more prosaic. There were mundane bits, to be sure, but somehow even they were suffused with light; enhanced, rather than diminished, by the love that brought them into focus.

“I just miss you,” Vita Sackville-West wrote to Virginia Woolf, “in a quite simple desperate human way…I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.”

And there was profundity, too, a humanity that banked itself like the embers of a fire against the darkness that threatened to overwhelm it. Near the middle of the book, Bond found the letters of Wilfred Owen to Siegfried Sassoon. 

“And you have fixed my Life—however short,” he wrote, almost a year to the day before he was killed in action, barely a week before the end of World War I. “You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze.”

“What do you think?” Kai asked, returning to Bond’s table.

Bond cleared his throat. “It’s perfect,” he said. “Could I check this out?”

“Of course. I’ll meet you at the circulation desk.” 

Kai took Bond’s library card and scanned it, saying as they did so, “You know, the editors of this anthology are putting together a companion version of contemporary letters. They’re asking people to send in copies of letters they’ve received, to show what love looks like now. If you’re fond of love letters, you should think about sending some in.”

Bond looked down at the circulation desk, rubbing ineffectually at a scuff mark with his finger. He thought of a flooded building in Venice, and all the hopes that had collapsed with it; of the dozens of married women and the handful of married men for whom Bond had been an excuse to pretend, for an hour, or an evening, or a week, that their lives were something more than a string of indistinguishable, empty days. He’d been happy to let them, at the time. He’d been using them for the same thing, after all. But there had been no love letters for him, either, even if he’d never felt the lack until now.

“No,” he said after a moment. “No, I don’t have anything I could send in.”

“Well, you never know,” Kai said, handing over the book. “Valentine’s Day is coming up. You might get lucky.”

“You never know,” Bond said, slipping his library card back in his wallet. “Thanks again.”

As he walked back to MI6, the book safely wrapped in his jacket, he thought, finally, that he might have everything he needed to write Q a proper love letter.

I made up the title of the book Bond looks through, but the love letters (and many more like them!) are real. You can find the letter from Vita Sackville-West here, and the one from Wilfred Owen here.

[puissantveil]

Live reaction to MK1 Story Mode, part Banquet (CW: alcohol and alcohol jokes)

Huh. Kitana's sitting at the head of her table (flanked by Johnny and Raiden, I might add) while Mileena is sitting off next to Rain. Kitana's probably the one who's fun at parties.

Regarding the food, I see...little rolls of bread, apples, a pomegranate, some sort of roasted fowl, and red wine. Wait, is Kung Lao still with the Shaolin? Buddhism forbids drinking alcohol.

WTF Kung Lao, don't just fucking tear a leg off the bird like a caveman, ask nicely. See, even Shao and Reiko are disgusted by your lack of table manners. The burp is the icing on the cake.

Kitana's cute as balls I adore her with those soft, slightly crooked lips and beautiful eyes, she's almost too cute to sexualize. Almost.

There's something super familiar about Rain's face, but I can't put my finger on it.

SHIT SHIT FUCK FUCK MILEENA NO OH GOD THE HUMANITY

It looks like some pretty gnarly reflux, but we all know what it really is

Rain stone cold does not give a fuck lol, what a great friend /s

you are not fine Mileena, you look like you're trying not to lose your shit while listening to the Klarvins* in the hah-tub

that Black-looking guy is wearing one of those little rounded caps. They're called kufi and are worn in many different parts of the African continent.

The twins are about ten thousand. Things have only been chill for one thousand. The royal house may have seen a lot more shit than I previously thought.

"My husband Jerrod believed that the future of our realms lay together" kinda like all the times you and Liu Kang lay together ayyyyyy

Kitana is actively interested in what Mama Sindel has to say. Which, tbh, is more than I can say for my parents sometimes.

"letting no secrets tear our bonds asunder" oho i see what you did there

"more that joins us than divides us" He's talking about the wine. The love of booze transcends realms.

C'mon Shao, he's trying to be nice. Don't try to undermine him.

"Earthrealmers are devoid of all-" Dammit Sindel, now we'll never know what we're missing.

"Perhaps I've enjoyed too much of this excellent wine." Nah man that's bullshit, you 100% meant what you were going to say.

Sindel is always a delight to watch. Yes, I am referring to her face and her boobs.

More fruit. Lots of apples and some passionfruit, to go with bananas and pomegranates earlier seen.

Sorcerer? You mean like Shang Tsung?

We've got a clash of ideals here: independence and integrity vs. peace and goodwill.

Excellent close-up of Sindel's disapproving face. Looks like something out of a movie, which I like.

Ending with Kitana and Mileena coming to see Sindel. I've watched this scene before and have a lot to say about it.

Sindel is so fucking good in this game, my god. Someone make a "Sindel not fucking around for x minutes and y seconds" please.

*Roger and Virginia Klarvin, played by Will Ferrell and Rachel Dratch respectively, are the subject of a series of SNL skits, wherein some poor sap has to listen to their flowery accounts of their sexcapades.

[feejee-mermaid]

Turn and Face the Strange

Read on AO3 | Written for the X-Files Flicked Switch Fanfic Exchange

My second ever fic. A million thank yous to @dsmulder4u​ for the prompt, and to @cecilysass​ for the incredible beta, feedback and advice 🙏❤️

A late night conversation - some truths are revealed. Missing scenes in the middle of 'Rush'.

“I spy with my little eye, something... chartreuse,” Mulder said, inching the Taurus forward. I-95 was a sea of red taillights.

“Come on, at least make me work for it,” Scully said. “Mountain Dew bumper sticker, Buick Skylark, three cars ahead.”

Mulder sighed. “This game’s no fun with you. I should start playing with Skinner.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try not to be so aware of my surroundings.”

“Please,” he agreed. “It's the least you could do.”

“I just thought, those details aren’t going to notice themselves. Silly me.”

“Downright absurd of you,” he said. “Stay in your lane, Scully. Leave the details to the details.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the time of David Bowie’s Changes, which was crackling softly on the radio.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was slow going,” he said.

They’d decided to head back to DC after leaving the police station and grabbing a bite to eat, anticipating the same bumper-to-bumper traffic Scully had crawled through that morning to get to the Pittsfield, Virginia morgue. Mulder had wanted to deliver the evidence locker surveillance tape to Chuck Burks ASAP, he’d said, so the man could work his spooky tech magic. Scully knew Mulder hoped Chuck would substantiate his theory – find hard evidence of a force, a specter, a poltergeist – whatever alleged entity was seemingly responsible for the theft of the murder weapon.

Scully didn’t know how the flashlight had vanished. But a terrestrial suspect was far more likely, and if she had to lay odds, one mired in the turmoils of adolescense, as her partner would say.

The case had intrigued Scully. And if she was honest, she was drawn to it simply because it felt lighter than their usual fare. Yes, the Sheriff's deputy had been brutally murdered, flashlight through the skull. Yes, a 16-year-old kid, whom she was inclined to believe was innocent, was terrified, in serious trouble and on the verge of throwing his life away.

But for once, there was no conspiracy. There were no alien forces at work. There were no cigarette smokers slinking in the shadows, no black oil, no toxic green blood, no bad remnants of a sci-fi b-movie, no fraught hospital bedside vigils. They were both clear-headed, whole, healed – as much as possible anyway – and by God, they were constantly smiling at each other.

And she was still remembering his lips, pressed flush and warm against hers at the stroke of midnight, ushering in a new millennium.

Well, she amended, not technically. 2001, etc, etc. But it felt like something new. It felt like the start of a possibility.

“Whatcha thinking?” he asked, crunching a seed he’d grabbed from the bag tucked into the car console and licking salt from his index finger.

From the passenger seat she watched his long, thick digit disappear into his mouth. God.

“Max Harden is bad news,” Scully said.

“Hmm,” Mulder said. “He definitely wants to play the bad boy. I’m not sure if that makes him a murderer, though. Maybe. Or maybe he’s just showing off for his girlfriend.”

Scully thought of Chastity and involuntarily bristled, then chastised herself for the juvenile feeling. She wasn’t sure she wanted to examine it very closely. The girl had shamelessly checked out her partner and Mulder had done a double take. She’d leveled him with a look, and he’d chuckled sheepishly, and that was that. But she worried about her reaction. She knew she had a possessive streak running below the surface, buried deep like a copper vein.

It tended to flare whenever he got appreciative glances from waitresses, rental car agents, flight attendants, or even the more overt come-ons from the Shelia Fontaines who seemed to inhabit every pocket of small town America. Wherever they went, women were undressing him with their eyes. Not that she could really blame them. She had eyes herself.

“You think so?” Scully said. “Just showing off?”

“Well, you know, the rebel persona – cliched as it sounds – when it comes to women, it has a certain appeal,” he said, clearing his throat. “Or so I’m told.”

Scully absorbed that token of information. She thought of what she privately labeled “Covert Ops Mulder” – black leather jacket, black turtleneck, two days worth of scruff and sweat – breaking into top-secret biotech facilities, jumping onto speeding train cars, eyes ablaze with recklessness, vengeance or virtue. She had to admit, it was hot. It was the same Mulder she imagined lying awake in the dark, save the glow of the TV, reclined on his leather couch surrounded by sticky VHS tapes, hand wrapped around his cock.

She flushed.

“Hmm,” she said. “Not speaking from experience, are you?”

He grinned. “Who, me? You know me, Scully, I’m like an altar boy on Sunday.”

She shook her head and smiled. She shouldn’t encourage him.

Mulder glanced her way, eyes playful. After a beat he returned his attention to the road.

“Hopefully Chucky can crack this one open,” he said, switching tack, punctuating it with a crunch of another seed. “Wanna grab dinner tonight? We can go over case notes at my place.”

****

They were slouched shoulder-to-shoulder on Mulder’s couch, papers and Thai takeout containers strewn across the coffee table.

He was chewing his nail, eyes scanning Tony Reed’s police statement for about the fifteenth time.

“Mulder, when Tony said he got to the woods –” Scully started, but got distracted by the pink flesh of his tongue running across the jagged edge of a hangnail.

“Huh?” he said, dropping the finger from his mouth and turning to face her. He was surprisingly close, his mossy green eyes looking into hers, their noses almost touching. She forgot the rest of her sentence. An inch forward and she could give him a bunny kiss. Which was not the kind of kiss she usually thought about when she thought about kissing him. Which was embarrassingly often.

She leaned slightly towards him, drawn like a magnet, feeling his gentle breath across her cheek. He radiated heat, and she could smell the notes of his cologne – woodsmoke and sage and sandalwood. She had the urge to play with his tie again – if he hadn’t flung it off hours ago – to grab it and pull him into her, pressing his perfect full lower lip to hers, slipping her tongue against his.

His cell phone rang. He leaned back, noticibly irritated, searching for the source of the sound, and eyed the device on his desk. He rose to answer it.

“Mulder,” he said.

Scully swallowed back both disappointment and relief. She sat up and started tidying the coffee table, collecting food containers and trash.

“Thanks a million, Chuck,” Mulder said into the phone. “We’ll meet you at the office first thing in the morning.” A pause. “Any hints?”

Scully made her way into his kitchen, depositing the rubbish in the bin under Mulder’s dish-filled sink.

“Right,” she heard him say from the living room. “Yes, that’s no problem. Alright, thanks again.” He clicked off.

“That was Chuck,” he yelled.

Scully walked back into the living room. “So I gathered,” she said. “He find something?”

“I think so, but he wouldn’t divulge much over the phone. He ran the footage through a couple of cool new toys – said the results were surprising. He’ll give us the full rundown tomorrow.”

She felt the weight of the day hit her suddenly, and the familiar urge to retreat after a charged moment. “Okay,” she said with a yawn. “Maybe I should get out of your hair then. We’ve gone over the file so many times I can’t really see straight.”

He shrugged, his gaze straying down her body and then back up to her face. “Stay for a drink.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in her gut. Against her better judgment, she accepted.

****

“What were you like in high school, Mulder?” she asked, sipping her beer.

It was late, and he was invading her personal space, face soft and open.

He took a sip of his own drink, thinking about the question.

“I was... coping,” he said finally.

“Most of the time I put my head down and buried myself in school work. Extra credit, honors curriculum – anything to get myself as far away as possible. I applied to schools all over Europe, schools on the west coast. I couldn’t put Martha’s Vineyard in my rear view mirror fast enough.”

“What about the rest of the time?”

“The rest of the time… I might not have made the best decisions. I was angry. I was trying to keep things together at home, keep my mom functioning. My dad was just silent, drinking, absent. I was furious with them both for making me be the parent. And I blamed myself for what happened.”

She swallowed back a wash of empathy and anger. God, everything he’d gone through – every person who had failed him. She wished she’d known him then. She would have held him to her fiercely, destroyed anyone who hurt him.

“Imagine we’d met in high school,” she said.

“You probably wouldn’t have liked me,” he said.

“I would have.”

He smiled. “That would have been something. Wow, a young Dana Scully.” He elbowed her gently in the ribs. “You definitely were a Betty, by the way. Some things never change. I bet all the boys fought over who got to be your lab partner.”

She snorted. “If they did, it was only because they knew they’d get an A.”

She thought of herself then – introverted, studious, desperate to be taken seriously, aching to make Ahab proud. Sneaking out with Missy to parties, secretly thrilled, feeling guilty about it for weeks afterwards and burying herself in books like an act of contrition. If Mulder had known her then he wouldn’t have given her a second glance.

Mulder shrugged. “I doubt that’s true. And if it is – well – boys are idiots.”

“And what about you?” she said. “You must have done alright yourself. All that angst, all that personal tragedy. Oxford bound, basketball and swim team captain – young Fox Mulder must have been beating them off with a stick.”

He laughed. “I might have been beating something off, but it wasn’t prospective dates,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink.

“Seriously,” she said. “No girlfriends?”

“There may have been one or two,” he said. “Nothing serious. Although when you’re sixteen, everything feels serious.”

“You mean no one seriously fell for that trademark Fox Mulder charm?”

He cocked his head. “I have trademark charm?”

“Come on Mulder,” she said. “You must realize the effect you have on people. On females, in particular.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she said. “I’ve seen it a hundred times over. It doesn’t matter where we are – you flash a smile and they… react. They get ideas. Like Chastity today at the police station."

Mulder rolled his eyes. “She’s a kid, Scully. I mean, flattering that I might inspire teen admiration, but a kid’s a kid.”

She waved her hand, conceding the point. “Yes well, that’s just an example,” she said. “I’ve got plenty of others. And you do lay it on especially thick when you want something. Why do I get the feeling that started at a young age?”

He grinned. “Did I just hear, on the record, that Dana Scully thinks I’m charming?”

She shook her head, a parade of women running through her brain, that same possessiveness roiling in her gut. That wolf woman, Bambi, Detective White. Detective White. That damned case, she thought. Mulder had been infuriating and insufferable and unprofessional and she had understood with a clarity she’d never known before how much she truly wanted to fuck him.

“I admit nothing,” she said.

“Does it work on you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she said. I see it coming a mile away.”

He nodded, scanning her face, a half smile lingering on his lips. “Especially when I want something,” he said.

****

They were both three drinks in and he was kissing her, really kissing her, his hot tongue plunging inside her mouth. Irresponsible, she thought. Thank God.

One of his big hands was cradling the back of her head, the other was holding her at the hip as his body pressed hers into the couch. She could feel him rigid against her belly. She was feverishly hot and out of breath and soaking wet and she should absolutely stop this right this second. She kissed him harder, snaking her hand around the back of his neck to draw him closer. She was out of her mind, blissed out, her nerve endings fried. And they still had all their clothes on.

Mulder pulled back first, coming up for air. He was panting, wild eyed, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ear. She saw questions in his face. But also something that looked like certainty.

“Wow,” he said.

She kissed him again, slow and deep, like taking the first drink of water after years spent wandering through the desert. If you drink too fast you choke.

He pulled back again, pecking her lips, kissing her cheek and her temple, and pressing his forehead to hers.

“Scully...” he started, then fell silent.

The enormity of the moment hit her square in the chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She frowned, pulling away, defenses poised.

“No, I just mean – this wasn’t the right time to start this,” he said. “We’re in the middle of a case, we’re meeting Chuck in seven hours, we’ve been drinking–”

Trust Mulder to choose now to be reasonable for the first time in his life.

“It’s the perfect time,” she said, eyes turning glassy.

“I just want to do it right is all,” he said, cupping her cheek. “It’s you.”

“It didn’t feel right?”

He closed his eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said. “Of course it felt right. It felt like the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“It felt unbelievable,” he said.

“This from the man who’ll believe just about anything.”

He smiled. She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. He lifted their hands, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“You – this – God, Scully, it means everything to me.”

She nodded, overwhelmed.

“I think… with us, Mulder… how can there be a wrong way?” she said. “There’s only forward, there’s only together.”

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. She rested her face against his neck, breathing him in.

“After the case is finished, let me take you on a date,” he said.

She chuckled. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said.

She had been everywhere with Mulder. He’d been the face across the table at a thousand greasy diners, he’d been asleep on the other side of countless motel room walls, he’d been next to her through endless road trips, hands steady on the wheel as their high beams pierced the dark. They’d played a million games of Rummy and Go Fish, biding their time in airport lounges, McMurdo station, quarantine.

He was there through cancer, through Missy’s death, her pillar through every one of her saddest and most terrifying moments. Beside him, she’d had the space to develop into her professional best. He’d given her agency and contributions the respect and value they deserved, and the work had been better for them.

He’d protected her, he’d saved her, he’d shouted at her, he’d infuriated her, he’d told her bad jokes, he’d told her the truth, he’d held her hand. And vice versa.

He’d shown her ghosts on Christmas Eve and a baseball diamond for her birthday, even though he was months early or months late.

She had absolutely no idea what a date with him would bring.

“Okay,” she said. “I’d love to.”

He dropped a kiss on her head, then pressed his cheek to her hair.

“Good,” he said, “good.”

They held each other for a few moments. She didn’t want to let him go.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” she said. “But Mulder – I’m not waiting another seven years to kiss you.”

He laughed, pulling back to look her in the eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips, and he cupped her face. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers firmly, with reverence and intent. A promise.

“Deal,” he whispered.

[softguarnere]

White Christmas

Carwood Lipton x reader

A/N: Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas @johnnymartin (@supervalcsi)! I'm your Secret Santa 🎅🏼 I hope that you have a very merry Christmas, and I hope that you like your gift 💕

Summary: The holidays are supposed to be about spending time with the ones that you love, but what happens when the man that you care about the most is called away during Christmas?

Warnings: None

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know . . .

The snow falling feels like it’s taunting you. Fat flakes fall in clumps, sticking to the frozen ground, making it slick, trying to trip you up as you walk. The temperature isn’t nearly as cold as that frozen Christmas back in Bastogne. But there is something besides warmth missing from this one, something that might have made this weather and the general stress of the holiday easier to bare: Lipton.

At least back in Bastogne you had each other. Huddling in the foxhole together, you had been able to create some semblance of warmth. When things looked bleak, Lipton was there to raise morale, and to take charge when Dike disappeared to . . . wherever it was that he constantly slipped off to.

Where the treetops glisten

And children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow . . .

Yes, even in that frozen wasteland, your heart had often felt warm as you looked at the First Sergeant, slowly beginning to realize that you had feelings for him – feelings that you soon realized he also harbored for you.

Feelings that led to a serious conversation in Austria at the war’s end, where you decided that the two of you made a good team.

Feelings that led to a pretty ring found in Berchtesgaden being slipped onto your finger as tears of joy overflowed from your eyes.

Feelings that had led you to say I do and ‘till death do us part in that little church back in West Virginia, your heart fluttering as you realized that you would never be separated again.

May your days be merry and bright . . .

Until this Christmas, that is, when Lipton’s company called him away on urgent business at the last minute, meaning that you have to spend this white Christmas – your first Christmas after getting married – alone.

And may all your Christmases be white . . .

“Ow!” Someone’s surprised yelp and the clattering of tools grabs your attention, pulling your gaze from the treacherous, frozen sidewalk to one of the yards ahead of you on the street.

Your yard, you realize with a start, as you notice the figure standing in it, trying to keep the ladder he’s perched on steady as he untangles a ball of bright lights. He’s already got quite a few strands decorating the porch rail and the edges of the roof, and as the darkness of the evening creeps in, he’s illuminated by his handiwork, looking like some sort of angel amongst the snow. And you can only think of one angel who would insist on putting up the Christmas lights all by himself.

You inch closer, trying not to scare him, but worried that he might disappear if you blink. “Carwood?”

The man on the ladder turns, his eyes brightening like the lights on the house the second he sees you. “(Y/N)!”

In an instant, he’s down the ladder and standing before you, looking rather sheepish. He glances between you and the house. “You weren’t home when I got back, and I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t realize that you would be back so soon – “

He’s cut off as you throw yourself at him, wrapping him up in the tightest embrace you can manage. Despite the cold outside, he’s warm. His chest rumbles as he laughs, wrapping his arms around you in turn.

“I thought that you would be gone – “

“Scheduling mistake,” he explains. “I was about to board my flight when I got the call from my boss. He hadn’t even finished explaining before I was running through the airport and hailing a cab to get home to you.”

Keeping your arms around him, you pull back just slightly so that you can look at him. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”

He smiles, the movement tugging at the scar on his cheek. “I am too. No one should have to have a white Christmas alone.”

“Or wrangle these lights alone,” you giggle, glancing at the tangle of lights that’s half on the roof, half on the ladder. “You need some help with those?”

Palm open, he offers you his hand. When you accept, he kisses your knuckles and leads you towards the ladder. “My love, I would be honored.”

[flarefoxxx]

Virginia's grandmother will be name Eleanor Wright. And New York's grandmother, Catherine Reeds.

I have been thinking sm about the grandparents that Ben had mentioned and I'm like, they need to be talk about but I honestly don't know how to go about it.

Like, he never said they themselves are immortals or mortals that just takes the states in as family but me personally, I'm kinda leaning in towards immortality cause come on, the states needs some sort of figure in their life.

Noted: This happens in the late 1590s after failing to find any Roanoke Survivors and declares him as dead.

Catherine wasn't expecting anybody this afternoon so she was confused when she heard her door knock. She place her knife down and made her way to the door, opening it, she was taken back when met a man she had knew and.... one point, had fallen for but that's for another story.

"James?" "Cathy...." The man smile softly, grabbing his hat and dipping his head before putting it back on. "Your daughter, told me you would be here." Catherine glance at the man, he is a tall, handsome man who's soft smile still manage to make her heart skip a beat, even to this day. She quickly shook those feelings away.

' No. Not now. '

"Is something the matter?" She ask. She knew the man. He wouldn't come here without a reason. He sigh softly, glancing at the women. "....It's my wife, Eleanor...." Catherine's eyes widened, feeling a dark pit in her stomach before taking a deep breath. "Did something happen to Eleanor?"

James sigh softly once again, looking away. "It's about....... Gosh, I don't know how to explain this but..... She...... She isn't do so well.... after.... what happen to our first grandson...."

She frown softly, letting out a deep sigh and glance down at the ground before back at him. She had hoped that her dear friend had moved on by now..... It has been three years, since the report of Roanoke and his fellow colonies, has gone missing at August, 1590. Eleanor, didn't took the news lightly and is still waiting for her fist grandson to one day come back, safe and sound.

Catherine could already picture the poor women, waiting for any news of Roanoke, a frown on her face that doesn't quite fit her on her pretty face, the dullness in her beautiful blue eyes.

Then again, Catherine couldn't blame her. She too would be in distrust if her daughter or grandson ends up missing. "I try talking to her Cathy, she wouldn't look at me or respond..... She barely eats or sleep..... She waits out there, hoping that he would come...... I can't bare to see her like that..... You're her friend and known her longer than I have.... Cathy, i beg of you.... Talk to her..... You're probably the only one who can talk to her."

Catherine drew in another heavy breath. "I'll try.... But I'll talk to her tomorrow morning." James sigh in relief. "Thank you, Cathy."

And so, the next morning, she did. She told her daughter that she'll be off to visit Eleanor. When she snapped her fingers, she landed straight outside the house of the Wright family and already, she sees Eleanor right outside the house but she isn't alone.

Four years old Virginia is on her lap, leaning against her chest before he notice Catherine at their front, tugging on his grandmother's dress and pointed at her.

"Mamaw! There is a strange lady in our front!" Eleanor glance up to see Catherine, who offers her a soft smile, walking over to the two. "Virginia, you know it's not nice to point, put your fingers away." Eleanor scolded him softly, Virginia did so, looking almost ashamed.

"Sorry Mamaw...."

Catherine chuckle softly. "No need to feel sorry, my name is Catherine, I'm a friend of your Mamaw." Catherine glance over at Eleanor, she almost flinch at the sight of her dear friend. She indeed looks like a mess. Her blue eyes that once held a spark, had long faded away, her hair slightly a mess and had developed dark bags underneath her eyes.

"A friend?" Virginia ask.

"Yes, she is a friend dear....." Eleanor spoke, glancing down at her grandson, combing his hair with her fingers. "Her name is Catherine Reeds, she is just visiting for a while..... But you can trust her..... she isn't like those untrustworthy British or Spaniards....." Eleanor's voice was shaky, almost choking back a sob, her tears threatened to come out of the corner of her eyes.

She cling on to her grandson, who yelped in surprise. "You'll be okay.... You'll be safe, You'll NOT disappear under my watch, you'll be okay, everything will be okay....."

"Mamaw! You're squeezing me!" Virginia squeaked.

"Eleanor......" Catherine call to her, Eleanor raised her head up, tears already spilling from her eyes, letting out a pained noise, Catherine can already feel her heart cracked into two. She place her hand on her shoulder and spoke. "Eleanor, I think it's time to finally talk about it....."

"Talk about what?" Virginia ask, his eyes held with curiosity.

Eleanor sniffed, glancing at her friend before at Virginia. "Ginny, sweetie, can you go up to your room? Mamaw is gonna have a grown-up talk with Cathy....." Virginia wanted to argue but held his tongue when saw his Grandmother's eyes pleading with him to go, he frown but agree.

"Okay." He slides down from her lap before heading back inside, closing the door behind him. Catherine watch him go before glancing at Eleanor, who was avoiding her eyes, her fists clutching her dress. "Eleanor, James had told me, you weren't eating or sleeping. How long have you gone without food?"

"..................I don't know....................."

Catherine sigh softly, opening a small basket that she had brought with her, picking up a small bag of food before placing it on Eleanor's lap. "Eat, you can't be starving yourself now." Eleanor glance down at the food in front of her.

"I made you your favorites. Oyster casserole." Eleanor took a piece with her fork, jabbing it and bringing it up to her lips, before taking a bite. She was chewing the food rather slowly but that's okay, as long as she is eating.

It isn't healthy for a personifications to go out without food for long. They may not be able to die like humans but staving yourself aren't also good.

"James had came to me...... Do you wish to talk about it, dear?" Catherine ask, jabbing a piece of casserole before taking a bite.

Eleanor made a pained noise once again, shutting her eyes right before glancing at her, her eyes spark with grief and pain before swallowing her food. "....... What is there to talk about Cathy? They haven't found any trace of him or the colonists..... England believes they might be......." She shut her mouth, glancing down with new fresh of tears streaming down her face.

Catherine frown softly, her heart aching for the women. "Nor....I heavily apologize for your news, it isn't easy to hear that........"

"What did I do Cathy? What did I do to have my grandson taken away from me?" Eleanor whimper, almost sobbing. "He was too young to go...... It should've been me on that boat, not him.... Not my Roanoke......"

"Eleanor......"

"I try to sleep Cathy.... But everytime I do, I keep seeing him..... In my dreams and everytime I try to reach him, he keeps getting away.....What did I do to have my grandson taken away?" She cried, glancing up at Catherine.

"Eleanor......"

"I........ His disappearance...... I feel like..... It's all my fault....... If I hadn't let him go, he would still be here...."

"Eleanor, stop it." Catherine said firmly. "Roanoke's disappearance isn't your fault. You had nothing to do with it." "But I did!" Eleanor wailed. "What kind of a grandmother I am to just let her grandson go to that island and make a name for himself!? I didn't wanna hold him back from being a colony...... He wanted to go and I just let him......."

"You're a wonderful grandmother Eleanor, the very best that he and Virginia had." Catherine said firmly once more. "Darling, look at me." She lifted her chin up to face her. "Roanoke's disappearance, the colonists's disappearance, is not and would never be your fault. If you had gone instead of him, Roanoke would be here blaming himself for his grandmother's disappearance. It would only be a loss-loss, dear. Nobody is off disappearing without a trace."

Eleanor whimper, letting the tears drip from her cheeks. Catherine brought her in for a hug, letting the Virginian women cry on her shoulder. People would say that Catherine seems like a heartless, emotionless women, but never to her friends and family and hearing Eleanor's sobs, broke her heart.

If there was any way to heal Eleanor's broken heart, she would do it. But this is the only thing she can do so far. She can feel her own tears start to form, but she held them back. "Let it all out dear, don't hold any of them back." She said softly, rubbing her back, Eleanor squeeze her shoulders, a sob escaping once more.

"Ronnie.... My sweet Ronnie...."

Catherine rocked her gently back and forth as she clings on, not caring if any snot or tears get on her dress. Let her cry, let all the pain, guilt, grief, anger, or any emotion come out. "Let it all out darling, let it all out." She whisper.

"I'll leave you some of the leftovers here with you, and make you some earl tea, you aren't alone, Nor, you can come to me if you need anything....... You are not to blame, darling." Eleanor's soft sniffles can be heard, letting out a shaky breaths before setting her face down against her shoulder, letting the last drop of tears flow.

She took deep breaths in attempt to calm herself down before pulling herself away from Catherine, glancing at her before attempting to smile softly but weakly. "I'm sorry to trouble you..... It must be a burden of you to come all the way---"

"You are NOT A BURDEN." Catherine hiss, but immediately calm herself down, taking a deep breath. "Eleanor, whatever issues you have, is not a burden..... I'm your friend, and if you need me, I'll be there to help you in any way I can. I wouldn't show up at all if I think otherwise."

Eleanor frown softly, glancing down at her dress. "I.... I know but it's just..... I can't help but feel I'm worrying James...."

"You are, due to you not sleeping and eating for a couple of days, but he is your husband, he is worried about you for a good reason! Eleanor, you're starving yourself! Not to mention, probably scaring your second grandson and worrying him to death!"

Eleanor glance down again in guilt. Catherine frown and sigh softly. "I didn't mean to get loud, but dear lord Eleanor, you're scaring your grandson and worrying your husband to death! If I had known you were doing this in the last two years, I should've came sooner!"

Eleanor chuckle pitifully, stroking her own hair. "I couldn't expect you to..... you have your own issues to solve and a family to care....."

"That doesn't I stopped or should stop caring all together, you're my dearest friend, and God forbids, If anything happens to you, I wouldn't forgive myself throughout the rest of my immortal life."

She sigh softly. "Roanoke is a good man..... a son anyone can ask for.....You didn't know the outcome of all of this, so don't you dare for a second any of it, it's your own fault Eleanor, you listen to me and listen good." She said sternly.

"You have done everything in your own power to raise this boy, he grew up to be a handsome man and let him go the moment he was ready to spread those wings. His disappearance is.... rather a mystery and one we probably would never know. But you had no idea what would've or could've happen and it's not you fault, like I have said, if it was you who had disappeared, who would help raise Virginia and Roanoke, cause god forbids, Englanddoes anything for his colonies. How would they have feel if their own grandmother had disappeared? And what about James?"

Eleanor frown softly, glancing down. "Roanoke is a good lad, a smart, caring, loving and a true definition of what a man is. I'm sure he would've been a real good colony at that too. He has a pure, gold-hearted soul." Catherine pause when felt something landed on her hand.

She glance down, a yellow butterfly had landed on her, fluttering those beautiful yellow wings. She took a moment to admire it's beauty before smiling softly, slowly lifting it up. "Through the good and bad times, what you once enjoyed and deeply loved, you can never lose."

Eleanor glance up, watching the yellow butterfly fluttering it's wing, beautifully glowing underneath the sun's light before it starts to lift itself off of Catherine's hand, fluttering away. Eleanor watch as it flies up to the sky, circling around. She could have sworn she had seen that butterfly before and after Roanoke's travel to what would be his new home.

Hell, even as a kid, the butterfly would still be around.

"For all that you love deeply, became a part of you. Roanoke may be gone..... But he is actually still here. With you. Inside there." She pointed to her chest, offering a gentle smile.

Eleanor glance back up again. The butterfly still hadn't left, once again landing on the hand rail before onto her hand now, fluttering it's beautiful wings. Eleanor cover her mouth, more tears threatened to escape. Catherine is right. Roanoke is here, with her. Always had, always will. Her Ronnie will always be a part of her.

The yellow butterfly had started to fly away, flying up to the sky before it actually starts to leave, the two women watch it go, Catherine turn to Eleanor, a smile on her face before glancing back at her. "I think you're right..... Roanoke will always be a part of me....." She took her hand, Catherine smiling softly.

"Thank you Cathy, you really are a good friend...."

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Footsteps of a Stranger

Written in 2019 to be part of an anthology that I don't think ever quite got off the ground. Spawned a good character, tho. Short story that I broke up into chunks for Tumblr. Inspired by the Noir Princesses art by Ástor Alexander.

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WC Total: 6289 -Part 1, 628 -Part 2, 1276 -Part 3, 1163 -Part 4, 686 -Part 5, 1851 -Part 6, 685

Warnings: Guns

Summary: A PI is on the case to discover who has been setting forest fires. A beginning investigation leads to more questions.

The smell of destruction still lingered, even days after the fire had been put out. The blackened heart of smoke had stained the trees, the nubs, the soil, and it seemed to cloud the very sky. Dragging my sickened stomach along, I stepped into the hollow husks and began to explore. The sprite in me twisted in turmoil as I walked, but I had to know. There was something here if that letter was right. Something I missed the first time.

I didn’t see it until I was well into the destruction. Bending down to inspect the forest floor, I spotted a different kind of broken limb; it looked human. Didn’t make sense; they had accounted for all the people in the area, dead and alive. So this was humanoid but not human. A quick examination revealed a bark-like texture along the skin, including small moss pieces grown from the skin itself. At least...that’s what it looked like under the burn marks.

So the ‘someone I recognized’ wasn’t a person. The letter was referring to a fellow earth sprite caught in the fire. Which shouldn’t have happened, as they are among the first to sense a threat to their forests and usually flee. Sprites are better at healing than fighting. I had to wonder why this one hadn’t had time for either.

Something clinked under my fingers−something metallic. Numbness shot up my fingers, and I jerked back, shaking my hand and peering at the spot. There was a metallic cuff wrapped around the wrist, scorch marks running up and down the broad sides of the cuff. I tapped it again with a curious finger with the same result.

I heard footsteps behind me and grabbed the arm, yanking the cuff free and stuffing it into my coat pocket. Just in time.

“Excuse me,” the tone was high-bred. British. Snobby. “I do believe this area is off limits.”

I stood and turned, taking in a white tailored business suit and shoes so clean they looked out of place. Something clinked as he moved, watching me with haughty superiority between his bushy eyebrows and a nose to rival an eagle’s beak.

“Excuse me,” I echoed his pretentious politeness, “but the forest is open to all.”

He smirked. “Not anymore. This land was bought by my company after the fire. We offered to handle all the restoration, and the city heartily agreed.”

“And what company is that?”

Instantly whipping out a card, he held it out. “Virginia Co.”

I took it with a glance. “And you’re what? The representative?”

“David Ratcliffe,” he answered with a sniff. “I own the company.”

My eyebrows went up. “The big boss, huh?”

“Yes. And you’re still standing on private property.” He held out a hand to direct me away, trying to both escort me and shoo me. I went with it, having no real reason to argue; the body hidden among this wreckage was a signpost of which trail to follow, and this Ratcliffe had given me footsteps in the mud.

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“David Ratcliffe,” I repeated the name to Thomas while sorting through my files. “Apparent owner of Virginia Co.”

“Oh,” he said, the pages from our mysterious tipper spread out in front of him. “They’re the land sharks that set up shop a few years ago...an offshoot of a company overseas, I think. And they’re the ones trying to buy up local farms.” He tapped me on the shoulder with a pile of papers.

Company reports. “So,” I mused, thumbing through them, “they’ve been putting money into buying up the land right outside of the city, including any farms still in residence.” I glanced at the location of all the farms that had been vandalized or had the owners suddenly die off and back at the Company reports. They had made bids that were ultimately rejected by the same farms. Suspicious coincidence, of course, but not enough for the local police to be concerned about.

“So...they’ve been buying up land and possibly committing crimes against those that won’t sell,” Thomas mused, thumbnail pressed between his teeth. “But what about the forest fire? And the sprite you found?”

I had been wondering about it myself. According to their records, all the places that suffered from wildfires had been bought up by the Virginia Company years before. The news articles in my own stores all boasted the Company declaring land preservation with each purchase. I was always bothered with big money buying up the forests inhabited by earth sprites, but had little recourse; very few humans knew about the world behind the curtain, and had proven they’d rather remain ignorant than admit they were at fault for a population’s decline. Both sides of my heritage were proof enough.

Regardless, it made little sense why they’d start setting fires on land they owned.

I shifted my seat and felt something shift in one of my pockets: the cuff I found. I turned my pocket inside out and let it clatter to the ground, catching Thomas’s interest. He picked it up and began turning it over in his hands, glancing up at me with eyebrows raised.

“What’s this?”

“Not sure; found it attached to the dead sprite. I think it might be the reason why it was dead.” Thomas dropped it with a startled look, and I shook my head. “No, not poison. I think it’s iron.”

“Iron? How can you tell?

“It blocks magic,” I explained, nudging it with a finger. Cold spread through the tip of my index up to my knuckle. “I’m not affected as badly, but it still gives me a chill the way no other metal does.”

“So someone put this on the sprite, and...it died?”

I shook my head. “No, but it kept the sprite from healing the forest. Probably kept it from healing itself after it was caught in the fire.”

“Which means whoever started the fire knows about sprites and how to stop them.” He said exactly what I had been thinking, which put a different spin on this whole case.

“Exactly,” I said, gathering up the papers and watching Thomas start to do the same. “I need more information.”

“What are our questions?” The response was automatic, and I was grateful. He was becoming a decent investigator−more of a partner than an assistant.

“The contents of the forests that burned,” I began, sliding the papers back into their folders. “What’s so important about them, about the farms that have been bought up. And, if we can, keep your ears open for humans that know about sprites and magic. We may be looking at something more serious than a human-on-human squabble.”

He nodded, standing and getting our coats. “I’ll hit the local spots. See if Meeks and Flint know anything.”

I took my coat, swinging it over my shoulders as I headed out the door. “Good. I’ll visit our friend in the forest and see if she can blow away some smoke.”

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[Part 4]

[lilicohirukoma]

YOU S4 EP2 LIVEBLOG

Here we go again

- I wouldn’t be too married to the idea its one of the new people here, could always be someone from your past (maybe the guy the Quinn’s send)

- Is this season gonna be Joe’s descend into madness/paranoia? I kinda dig that

- Oh wait an actual murder mystery party? Even more fun!

- But I still don’t get why they want him around so much, like he isnt rich so that can’t be a reason

- YOU KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT ABOUT WHODUNNITS MR GOLDBERG

- But then why would she conviently leave a voice mail about him being dead right in front of you?

- Shit okay he made that deduction too I’m gonna go cry now

- Kate’s being sussed out so I feel like its def not her and she might even die

- Ah yes hello Nadia you still exist, how convenient you love the mystery genre

- WHY ARE YOU CALLING ABOUT THIS IN A PUBLIC AREA IDIOT???? GO HOME AND THEN CALL how has Joe never been caught oh my god

- Don’t like being stalked huh Joe

- Delete the app/destroy your phone, clearly they want a game and if you try to deny it they’ll have to make measures to keep you in it and through those measures you could get closer to their identity

- Lady Phoebe is giving me some Annika vibes I love it

- Now hold on a minute... Phoebe might be a bit more manipulative than she looks

- I know Ralph is Ralph Lauren but who tf is Tom

- Liking the Soo siblings a lot and I think one of them will survive, my bet’s on Sophie

- No Kate’s the red herring move on from her

- Louis XIV for Sun King w Dagger? Makes sense for the rich entitled assholes theme the show is going with (as usual)

- His detective superpower is probably gonna he the fact that he’s a serial killer and can thus think like a murdering stalker

- I feel like we are gonna get more crazy stuff from Gemma and Blessing, I think the characters have more to offer

- When charged with a DUI one moves to London and starts an elite club obviously

- WHAT DID I SAY SUN KING LOUIS XIV BABY, thank god he was one of my biggest history hyperfixations

- How much did they pay Adam’s actor for that scene I got to know

- Hmmm why did that lady want a picture of Joe

- EWWWWWW NFTS GET IT OUT OF MY FACE. Kill Simon for me please

- I dont think exposing a piss kink equals murder and framejob

- Wdym Roald Joe smells of New York, Virginia, Vermont and those kinda places

- Do love this snake skin suit Adam has going on

- Yeah I don’t think it’s him either, he’s weird but that isnt a crime

- Red paint meant to symbolize blood I see whats going on

- And ofc Simon immediatly makes performance art out of it

- Didn’t you literally say to stop helping people? Why are you helping Kate out again fool? (Yes its bc hes in love w her I know)

- He sells NFTs of course he stole the other art works

- Nah, he’s an asshole but too casual and laid back to kill someone, frame a person and then fuck around on text about it

- Simon’s gonna get killed I can feel it

- So Malcolm was missing a finger and Simon an ear, both of those had jewelry (a ring and an earring) on those parts so that might be something

- Rhys is getting more and more suspicious but that might also be on purpose

- Kate is just reserved man, not every good act should be for public display

- I love Nadia, if she dies I’m gonna be so mildly disappointed

- OH FUCK YES LETS GOOO GET HIS ASS