#at this point we are concerned the fbi is going to show up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miley1442111 · 2 days

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Hi my love!

I'm sorry if this is a bother, but I saw you were taking requests and I really wanted to see this one written and you do such amazing writing.

Please don't feel pressured into writing this tho

So, we all know Derek is like, 6'2" is, right, so the girls he talks to are shorter than him, but I was wondering if you could write something with a female reader where she is almost as tall as him, and decided to wear heels to something, like a party or a gala or something, and she feels insecure about being so tall and he's just swooning over her because look at his tall woman, his amazing tall woman who works as an FBI profiler and can literally kick anyone's ass and just look how cool his girlfriend is.

Like, if you wanted to you could write about how some guy made a comment and Derek literally had to be held back because he was full on ready to throw hands for the reader.

Bonus points of she's like really fit, like she definitely hits the gym and you can see it

Again, you don't have to write it if you don't want to/don't feel comfortable, I just thought it would be cute

OMG I love this idea, it's so freaking cute! I had so much fun with this and istg I'm so sick of y/n always being some small fragile little thing in fics, it drives me crazy!!!!

Thank you for requesting my dear ! :)

my girl- d.morgan

a/n: intended for tall fem!reader but as per usual imagine what you like :)

summary: derek comforts you after something happens at the yearly award show

pairings: derek morgan x reader, (platonic) bau team x reader

warnings: insecurities, suggestive tones, crying, fluff :)

You loved your body, seriously you did. It was your vessel, your home. You nourished it and took care of yourself.

But sometimes you wanted to feel shorter. Being tall has its advantages, and yes, you knew you were more than conventionally attractive, but it didn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of your head, telling you it was weird that when you wore heels, your boyfriend was looking up at you, not down. Derek was 6’2. You were 6’2 ½ with these heels on. You were taller, which was fine, but it played in your mind more than you had wanted it to for the entire night.

Derek on the other hand? When he saw you in that perfect dress he didn’t think he’d have the willpower to actually stop himself from fucking you before the event. He felt so lucky. His beautiful, ass-kicking girlfriend was wearing a dress that he’d bought her and she looked fucking delicious. He knew you were gorgeous, especially when he was regularly graced with the image of you naked, but this was another level. On your latest mission you’d taken the unSub down on your own and he swore he’d never been more turned on. The way you just overpowered him, getting his knife off him and cuffing him. You were the most beautiful person in his eyes, you always would be.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking into the gala, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, gripping and pawing at you, kissing you constantly. Though, he could see something was wrong. Was this gala too much for you? Did you want to go home early? He wouldn’t have complained.

“You alright baby?” He asked as another award was announced.

“Fine,” you sighed, staring into your plate of food as you just moved the mashed potatoes around.

“Baby,” He placed his hand on your thigh, grabbing your attention. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

Derek frowned. You weren’t usually one for keeping things from him. “Baby-”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced to the table, and stood up. You avoided Derek’s concerned eyes and he got up to follow you.

“How’s the weather up there?” A drunk asshole asked you and he saw the way your face subtly contorted into upset, trying to hide tears.

He saw red.

His eyes darkened and his fists balled at his sides. “You wanna say that again?”

The drunk asshole sobered slightly after seeing the seriousness on Derek’s face.

“Derek it’s fine-” you pleaded, wanting to sink into the floor.

“No it’s fucking not. Say it again.”

David and Aaron got up from the table, stalking over before Derek swung at the guy.

They were too late.

“Derek!” You shouted as the other two pulled him off the man. Other tables were starting to stare and you felt perpetually worse. You should’ve just worn flats.

“You can shut up next time, yeah?” Derek jeered at the bleeding man as Aaron and David held him back.

“Calm down,” Aaron ordered cooly, and Derek instantly pulled himself out of their arms,brushing them off.

“I’m calm,” he said. He was not calm. No one got to insult his girl.

“Can we just go home?” You whispered through shaky breaths. Derek’s attention was all on you.

“Of course we can.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive home was silent, his hand on your thigh as you attempted to calm down.

Derek was wracking his brain for why you’d been off all night but came up empty.

What was wrong?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You kicked off your shoes, practically running to the bathroom and locking it behind you. Derek sighed to himself as he set down the keys, deciding to grab himself a beer.

You took off your makeup, your dress, and showered, trying to wash your insecurities away. You knew you were pretty, you knew Derek loved you the way you were.

Sometimes insecurities just get the better of you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sheepishly walked into your bedroom and saw Derek on the bed, waiting for you.

“Can we talk?” He asked and you nodded slowly. “What’s wrong?”

And with that, the floodgates opened. You pushed your face into his chest, crying against him as he comforted you. “I just… I know I’m ‘pretty’ and all but… sometimes I just-”

“Hey, you are pretty, so goddamn pretty baby,” he smiled at you and it eased some of the hurt in you. “But I get that you don’t always feel like it, which is fine too, y’know why?”

“Why?” You snuffled out, looking up at him through running mascara.

“Because I can alway remind you, my pretty girl,” he smirked, and sealed his statement with a kiss.

You felt better, knowing you had someone who loved you no matter what.

It’s not like Derek minded, he was so head over heels for you you could’ve had two heads and he wouldn't have cared. You were his.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist:)

#derek morgan x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan x you #derek morgan imagine #david rossi #elle greenaway

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swampthingking · 21 days

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andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

#pr manager is like: andrew… this is the last time i’m gonna tell you #andrew: whats the point of democracy if i can’t exercise freedom of speech #pr manager: andrew it’s no longer about your image #at this point we are concerned the fbi is going to show up #andrew: neil has connections. i’m fine #they thought marketing andrew on social media would be good #they were sooooo wrong #because now andrew has a place to share every insane thing he’s ever thought #for instance—a tweet that just says ‘an alien googling: human clothes’#he’s on there advocating for lgbtq+ youth you KNOW HE IS #he’s cursing and mildly threatening members of congress for imposing these disgusting bills #one day he tweeted ‘does mitch mcconnell know he’s dead yet’#when mitch mcconnell stepped down from senate andrew tweeted ‘hopefully next he steps down from life’#unsurprisingly: this endears him to some people and makes others fucking hate him #and he’s such a shit. he does not care either way #he’s kind of just like: pr manager. you gave me a twitter and told me to tweet. i’m just doing what you asked me #they’ve threatened to change his password so many times #they actually did once but andrew reported the account so many times for defamation and fraud that it got suspended #and he made a new account out of pure spite #his pr manager is like: andrew nobody is going to want to sign you because of your public image #and andrew is like: ?? ok. they can lose every game then #(he knows he’s the best goalie)#ok i think that’s enough for now. however i will probably be back #andrew minyard #aftg #tfc #trk #tkm #the foxhole court #all for the game

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ginkgo-phyta · 2 months

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I'm back again 😅

Hopefully, I'm not the only person with this opinion, but how do you think Spencer would react if his significant other told him that they thought he looked hot with his bulletproof vest on? 👀

omg is this injured spencer request anon?? I NEED TO KNOW im so sorry if it's not tho, whoever you are thank you so much for coming back!! i love you with all my heart you should use a special emoji as like ur own lil signature! :D

okay so i wanted to try blurb(?) format but mmm okay not really cuz just a wall of text was stressing me out but this is def more informal than my other work (look no capital letters!) and because i love you so much i present two scenarios for you :P... i cant fight this feeling anymore guys he rlly is so hot in his vest im becoming my most feral self grrrrr RAH RAH ALRIGHT hope you enjoy, my love!

OKAY SO SPENCER REACTING TO YOU TELING HIM HE'S HOT IN HIS FBI VEST gn! reader, fluff, second scenario a little steamy in tone but nothing explicit just h*rny vibes, no other warnings

if you weren't a profiler: you'd never thought about it before- spencer in his bulletproof vest. sure, you knew that his job required him to go into sticky situations where the prospect of gunfire was imminent and he would have to wear proper equipment, but you never put two nd two together. you never even thought of a kevlar vest as something that could be hot...until you saw a picture of him wearing it.

"what the hell is that." you blurt out, voice serious with hints of concern.

"huh?" spencer's as clueless as ever, a little worried about your reaction. he was just showing you random photos his team members had taken over the years, all printed out for easy viewing courtesy of the ever-so-accommodating penolope garcia. someone had taken a pic of a beautiful lake where the bau had saved yet another victim, the sun dipping below the horizon line of pine trees, painting the sky purple and pink. "um...the sunset?" spencer was confused, "i guess maybe it was kinda a weird time to take a photo, but no one was hurt and we caught the unsub and the sky really did look-"

you cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, eyes never leaving the photo in front of you, "no, no...what's that." you point to what you were talking about, a figure standing off to the side.

spencer takes a minute, becoming even more bewildered "...me?" in that moment your world changed.

"oh my god... "you whispered in a daze, firmly pulling the picture out of spencer's fingers and into your own, "what...what are you wearing?"

"honey what's wrong? it's just my bulletproof vest. i know it might look a little funny, but it, y'know, keeps me alive..." he scratches the back of his neck. a couple seconds of silence pass, but to spencer it feels excruciatingly long.

"spencer," you look at up at him deadpan "you look so fucking hot." to say your boyfriend was shocked would be an understatement.

he was absolutely blown away by your response, so much so that the way his face contorted looked borderline disgusted. "wha-what?? huh? what?" he clamored, eyes flitting over your face to find any sign you were joking.

"seriously, baby, you look so good. oh, my God!!" you almost shriek, gripping the picture tighter, the widest, dumbest grin pulling up your cheeks as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

spencer smiles at your reaction, still a little perplexed "you really think so?" the notion begins to sink into his bones, making him giddy.

you very enthusiastically nod your head, "are there any more pictures of you like this?" you rip the rest of the photos out of spencer's hands, scouring through them at light speed. out of nowhere, spencer laughs out loud, his nose scrunching in delight.

"i...don't know what to say. i'm flattered you think that," a wonderful blush shimmers over his cheeks, "but no i don't think there are. sadly." he playfully adds.

you stop all movements, slowly turning towards him, suspiciously calm. "well then," you grab your phone and suddenly stand up "looks like i'll just have to ask penelope for some!"

"wait! wait, no!" spencer calls after you as you start speed-walking away, your shirt barely escaping his fingertips. he yells out your name, his serious tone interrupted by a giggle of his own as he begins chasing you, "get back here!" he knows: garcia can never ever find out about this...

if you were a profiler: you had seen spencer don his FBI branded bulletproof vest hundreds of times over the years. although you had pined over him for years and were now finally in a relationship with him, seeing him like that didn't make you feel any type of way really. sure, you thought he looked strong and handsome, but most of the time you were too caught up in the case or situation at hand to focus on how he looked. until now. something had shifted in him in the last few months, not just with his ever-changing haircut, but within the way he held himself; more confident, more sure of himself, even more cocky, if you will. whatever it was, it drew your eyes to him in his tight little vest like a lightbulb draws in moths- instantly and continuously. it all came to a head when you caught the unsub responsible for drowning and resuscitating his victims until they couldn't be brought back to life. spencer dove into the lake with emily to apprehend the killer while you had helped the kid he had hostage reunite with his mother. you smiled at the scene in front of you, the teenager running into his mother's shaking arms, her holding him close in a tight embrace. another good ending, you thought to yourself before turning back to watch your fellow profilers make the arrest. suddenly, you mouth goes dry. there spencer reid stood; soaking wet, clothes sticking to his skin, chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his hand pushing his wet hair out of his face. and that stupid, goddamn kevlar vest. oh, fuck. the others walked away from the dock to situate everyone and themselves in respected vehicles that sat back on the road a few hundred feet away from where you currently were. as spencer moved to follow behind emily, hands trying to flick the water off of him, your gaze stopped him in his tracks. he stood there, a bit confused as to why you were walking towards him, seemingly entranced, instead of beelining behind everyone else.

he spoke out your name, but you remained silent, stopping just a couple feet away from him. you took him in one more time: the way his shirt became translucent, granting you with peeks of his skin; his sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms; the way his soaked pants choked his thick thighs. you became woozy with desire. spencer watched as your eyes dragged over his figure, drinking in every inch of his dripping body. "oh, baby..." you voice drawled out as soon as your gaze landed on his bulletproof vest, "you're absolutely soaking wet." spencer's eyebrows shot up his forehead at the suggestive twinkle in your timbre. you approached him further, chest just inches away from his. if he wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, he would have been a bit more cautious of lingering teammates. your hands came up to ghost over his vest, "did i ever tell you how good i think you look in this?" you looked up at him through your lashes.

spencer chuckled, "in the bulletproof vest?" you nodded in response, but spencer still couldn't really believe it. "uh, no, actually, you haven't." his eyes glinted at the way you bit your lip, his hands moving on their own accord to rest on your hips. you could feel droplets of water seep into the material and lick your skin, but you didn't give a rat's ass.

"well, you do." you whisper, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips, "really, really good." your mouth moves enticingly with his.

"oh? is that so?" he whispers against your lips, diving back in, his fingers digging in your hips. he graciously kisses you for a moment before it dawns on him that you're both still at work- in an active crime scene, at that. "mmh, mmh!" he vocalizes between kisses as he tries to move his head back a smidge. his eyes peak open just enough to see if anyone else was around. your lips are addicting, rendering him unable to fully tell you to stop, unable to fully pull away himself. he's relieved when he spots no one. still, he know this is far from appropriate. spencer's hands move up your body to wrap around your wrists behind him, pulling them away from him and the same time he pulled away from you, "okay, okay!" he breathes out with a chuckle, "i believe you now" he tries to catch his bearings, but your pouting face causes him to laugh again

"spencerrrr," you groan at the loss of your beloved's kisses and he turns you around and pushes you towards the spot where the others vanished, walking behind you with his hands on your shoulders, your body held at an arm's distance.

"let's go, angel." his words brought out a hmph! from you. "we can do more of that later at home" he whispers, leaning in ever-so-slightly.

you turn your head back to get a glimpse of him, your eyes and smile equally wide with excitement, "can you bring the vest with you?!"

A/N: OKAYYYY lemme stop myself before things get filthy LOL do yall know which episode im referring to in the second scenario? that end scene will always get me my eye are GLUED to spencer the entire time GODDAMN. okay anyway i hope you liked this anon!!! pls tell me yalls thoughts <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds fic

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reiderwriter · 7 months

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♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️

Chapter 8 of That's What You Get

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Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!

You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.

“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.

“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.

“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.

“I married Reid in Vegas.”

“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.

“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.

“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”

“You were never a scout.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”

“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.

“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.

“Oh god…”

“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.

“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.

“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”

“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”

“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.

“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.

“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.

“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.

“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.

“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.

“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.

“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”

“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”

“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.

“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”

“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.

“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”

“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.

“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”

“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.

“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.

“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.

“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.

“It’s bad, right?”

“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.

“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.

–X–

Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?

You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.

“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.

Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.

You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.

He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.

“It’s about yesterday-”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.

“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.

“You did?”

“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.

“Oh. Those memories.”

“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.

“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.

Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.

–X–

Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.

Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.

He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.

But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.

“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.

“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.

“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.

“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”

Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.

“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.

You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.

You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.

“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”

Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.

–X–

To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.

He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.

The ball was firmly in your court.

“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.

“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”

“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.

“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”

“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”

“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.

“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”

“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”

“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.

“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.

“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds self insert

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cecilysass · 18 days

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Shine On (16/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 16: Crazy Diamond

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Two hours later

It turns out that Bunny Man Bridge is just a bridge. And okay, it’s a little creepy-looking—a one lane road going into a yellowed concrete tunnel under a train overpass—but not very eventful on a sunny, late winter afternoon. There aren’t signs of apparitions, dead bodies, or even Satanic graffiti. Which Jackson finds kind of disappointing after all Mulder’s talk.

Mulder drones on about the telltale hallmarks of paranormal activity, but since most of them would have involved interviewing human witnesses, they don’t seem very promising to investigate. There’s no one around but Jackson, Mulder, and Scully. And interested squirrels.

Still, Jackson is enjoying the outing. He and Mulder scramble up to the top of the bridge and look around the railroad tracks for any clues. Scully watches from the road below, leaning against the car, smirking to herself. After a few minutes Mulder begins to call for the Bunny Man like a lost dog— “here, Mr. Bunny Man, come on, boy”—which makes Scully cover her mouth with her hand and laugh.

Mulder looks down from the bridge at her with this goofy little smile, a whole lot like he’s an eighth grader pleased with himself. Jackson tries hard not to shine the man’s mind, as he’s thinking a surprising quantity of inappropriate thoughts for an old guy.

He gets the basic gist, though—the important highlights. They’re back together.

Jackson can’t help but feel happy for them. Mulder’s hope is contagious. It’s everywhere in the man’s mind right now, even in the dirty parts. It’s inescapable, Mulder’s hope. Like an annoying mylar balloon that keeps floating into your face. Even shining him a little makes Jackson’s own emotions begin to feel lighter, too.

“Is the investigation over?” Scully calls up to them. “I’m hungry.” She cocks her head strategically. “We could go pick up fresh bagels.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows. “I could eat.”

“I think we’re just about wrapped up here,” Mulder calls back. “It’s going to be kind of a drive for bagels though. We’re in the country, Scully.”

She shrugs and smiles. From her pocket her phone starts to buzz, and she rushes to pull it out, sliding into the car to take the call. As Jackson understands it, she’s finishing up odds and ends of her hospital job before she goes back to the FBI.

Mulder regards Jackson seriously. “I’ve got to tell you, Jackson—I’m not noticing any classic signs,” he says, gesturing around them. “No change in temperature, no strange odor.” He points to the birds chirping in the trees around them. “I still hear local wildlife going strong.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says with a sigh. “Maybe the Bunny Man really does only show up on Halloween.”

Mulder’s eyes light up. “Well, possibly we could come back—” He stops himself, but it’s too late. Jackson knows exactly what he was going to say, and he knows exactly why he stopped.

They don’t know where Jackson will be at Halloween. That’s eight months away. He could very well be locked in a juvenile justice facility. That reality hasn’t gone away, however much Mulder and Jackson want to forget and play ghost hunter. Everyone keeps acting like Jackson is just going to stay here and play pretend son, but that’s just not the case.

Jackson has to turn away from Mulder now. Sometimes other people’s hope is painful.

They have to be careful on the way down; the embankment down the side of the bridge is steep. Jackson’s feet, skidding out of control, stumble the last few steps down, and Mulder grabs his arm to steady him.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackson mumbles.

Mulder’s thoughts are a burgeoning swell of concern, and Jackson knows he’s probably been doing a little shining. “Listen, Jackson—”

“You’ve actually seen ghosts before, right?” Jackson interrupts. He looks around at the wooded area around the bridge, then back at Mulder. “Not just read about them?”

Mulder considers him a moment. “I have, yes.”

“Who were the ghosts?” Jackson asks.

“The ghosts themselves? You mean in life?”

“Yeah. Did you know them?”

Mulder thinks about his answer. “One time it was a couple,” he says. “A couple who died together on Christmas.”

Jackson thinks about that for a moment, a couple who died together and spent eternity together, too. It seems like that might be good. Not entirely unhappy. He gets little visual flashes from Mulder’s memories, but he pushes them out—he’d rather make up his own little story about these ghosts.

“You never met the ghost of anyone you knew when they were alive?” Jackson asks. He hesitates. “Like … your own parents, maybe?”

Mulder’s head turns sharply to him. His gray-green eyes are sorrowful, then shift infinitesimally into sympathy and pity.

“Jackson,” he says, his words subdued, “you won’t get your parents back by searching for ghosts.”

A bird trills nearby, and Jackson’s gaze follows the sound. “Yeah,” he says.

His eyes again fill with tears. This is one of those things he knows he should know better about. Something he can see is a delusion—an idea gullible kids hold on to— but he wants to believe anyway. He wants to think that one day he might see his mom and dad again. How stupid, to imagine friendly ghosts who might pat him reassuringly on the shoulder and tell him it’s okay.

They both stand facing the steep bank of trees, saying nothing.

A very clear sentence runs through Mulder’s mind. If he were staying with us, I would make sure he got a new therapist.

Jackson can’t help but smile, wiping his tears. “If I were staying with you, I’d probably really need one.”

“Yeah.” Mulder snorts a laugh. “You probably would.”

***

Back in the car, Scully is sitting in the driver’s seat, unmoving, waiting for them. The radio is on, turned down very low, a murmur of voices.

“No ghosts,” Jackson informs her as he slides in the back. “Mulder says we can try Gadsby Tavern in Alexandria next time.”

“You all done with your call?” Mulder asks her, giving her a curious look. “Was it the hospital?”

“It wasn’t.” Scully says in a strange voice. “It was Skinner. He had news.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of news?”

“There’s been new evidence in the Van De Kamps’ case. Apparently a … witness remembers seeing a man wanted in Colorado in the neighborhood that morning, leaving the scene.”

“What?” Jackson inhales.

“The charges against Jackson have been dropped. He’s considered a missing child now. The Rawlins police are having a press conference, so it will be hitting the media today at some point.”

“A witness emerges from nowhere?” Mulder asks.

“Yes,” Scully says, and Jackson watches her eyes latch on to his. “And Skinner says the name of this witness has been strangely hard to come by, even for the Bureau.”

“This is good news though,” Jackson insists. “Right? It means I’m free. It’s good.”

He looks from Scully to Mulder. They both turn to him in the backseat, their faces blooming in simultaneous smiles. They’re both holding something back, but they’re not insincere.

“It is, Jackson,” Scully agrees. “You’re right. It means you have a lot more options.” He senses her worry simmering underneath. Something wrong here. Another shoe about to drop.

“Maybe I can call people now,” Jackson says, his eyes darting hesitantly between them. “My friend Louis. Maybe my uncle Wyatt.”

“Probably very soon,” Mulder says, nodding. “I’d like to wait until we know … just a little more.”

“You’re both worried,” Jackson observes softly. “You think something is weird.”

There’s a silence in the car as Scully starts the engine.

“We’re cautious,” Mulder says. “Happy, but cautious.”

***

When they get home from their bagel pick up—and Mulder was right, it was kind of a drive to get to the place with good bagels—Jackson is washing his hands in the kitchen when he feels Rose’s tiny nudge into his mind.

Apparently she’s back at home now, wherever that is. She tells him to pass on some messages. He’s happy to hear from her. He badly wants to tell her his good news, but he thinks about what Mulder and Scully said, and he decides to wait a little.

Jackson can hear Mulder talking on the phone outside. Actually, he is apparently taking a break from talking to whoever is on the line to discuss something back and forth very animatedly with Scully. Neither one of them really holds back their opinion, he’s noticed.

He’s started to put together a few more pieces about them. For one, he’s been curious about how Mulder pays his bills. Jackson’s parents always were very careful about money—clipping coupons, thinking through monthly budgets—but Mulder thinks about money much less than most adults.

Jackson knows that Scully is a doctor, and Jackson understands that doctors make high salaries, which explains her nice car and nice clothes. But Mulder hasn’t seemed to have a regular job for years, and Jackson doesn’t think FBI agents make enough to retire decades early.

When they came home with their dozen bagels, Mulder and Scully went to call this lawyer right away, both of them very determined. From what Jackson can gather, it seems to be a lawyer associated with Mulder’s family. So, Jackson infers, Mulder comes from some kind of family money. He wonders why Mulder doesn’t use it to buy a fancier house or car.

As he selects another bagel, he wonders about Mulder’s family. Who were they? How did they get rich? He wonders about Scully’s family, too. What’s her mother like, the one who is still alive? He could probably ask them all of these questions now that he isn’t a wanted man. Maybe he could even meet the mysterious grandmother now.

Outside Mulder and Scully still seem deeply invested in talking to the lawyer, so Jackson plops down on the couch with his cinnamon raisin bagel.

Chewing silently, he remembers what Scully said about the media getting the story soon. He searches around for the remote and turns on Mulder’s TV, pressing buttons to find a news channel.

When he does, he can tell instantly: the story is public.

A blonde reporter clad in a bright blue coat stands on a snow-covered street in downtown Rawlins, with the words “New Development in Wyoming Murder Case: Police Apologize to Runaway Teen” sprawled underneath her. Jackson is so shocked to see the familiar storefronts of his hometown on the national news he can barely focus on the words.

“...police believe that the victims’ son fled out of fear, and they hope Jackson Van De Kamp will be found safely.”

One of the police officers who’d been at Jackson’s school that horrible day—Davis was his name, Jackson remembers—stands in front of a microphone, looking gray and stricken: “We admit when we make mistakes, and this was a mistake. Mr. Van De Kamp is innocent of all wrongdoing. In all likelihood, he’s a scared and grieving kid. If you can hear this, Jackson, buddy, we want you to come home.”

Jackson stares at the screen open-mouthed, clutching his half-eaten bagel tightly. The rest of the report seems to slide right past him.

“Was that it?” Scully says sharply from behind him. The news has moved on to something else. “Was that the story about you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, his voice sounding like a small boy’s.

Scully walks around and sits down next to him on the couch. She picks up the remote and switches the TV off.

She peers at his face. “Are you okay, Jackson?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “The police … uh, begged me … to come home. To Wyoming.”

Scully’s eyes are so wide, so icy blue—exactly like Rose’s. They run all over him, as if studiously taking in every detail.

“Do you want to go back?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, blinking.

She picks up his plate off of the coffee table, offering it to him. He sets his bagel down on it dazedly. She replaces the plate on the table.

“You have some decisions to make, Jackson,” she says, her voice gentle. “Not all of them right away. But you do have some decisions to make.”

Mulder appears behind her, his hand reaching for her shoulder. He’s watching Jackson closely, too.

“We spoke to the lawyer about the … custody possibilities,” Scully says. Jackson recognizes suddenly that she’s very nervous. He can feel fear starting to roll off of her in steady waves. “It’s most likely a relative has official custody of you now. Probably your uncle Wyatt?”

Jackson nods slowly. He can’t think of who else would.

“We can talk to your uncle about other possibilities,” Scully says carefully. “Living with us. Short term … or longer term. There are a range of options in the kind of relationship you could have with us. You could just do visits. We could have some kind of shared custody. There’s, uh, more permanent arrangements. Like legal guardianship. Adoption.” She swallows. Her fear is pulsing around Jackson now like a heartbeat. “I don’t know how your uncle will feel about any of this, but we thought we’d check with you before pursuing anything else. We want you to be the one … in the driver’s seat.”

Jackson reaches out his hand to rest on her arm. He doesn’t want her to be so terrified. It’s stupid. Unnecessary. Of course he wants to live with them. She stills at his touch, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want to see Uncle Wyatt—like, for visits. He’s family. But I’d like to stay here. If that’s possible, I mean.”

Scully seems unable to suppress her initial reaction: she bursts into a pink-cheeked smile; she exchanges a quick, amazed look with Mulder. Her hand covers Jackson’s, and he can feel her intentionally calming herself down. “We’re happy you feel like that, of course. But that was … a fast decision. Are you sure? You can think about it. All the time you need.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” He tries to make his own tone sound casual, breezy. “Uncle Wyatt has too many dogs and goes to a crazy church,” he says with a shrug. “And I don’t think he’ll argue with you too much if you say you want me to live here. I broke his big screen TV once, and he thinks I’m annoying.”

Jackson doesn’t say everything he’s thinking. That he would actually really like to see what it would be like to be part of their family. That he’d like to know what love felt like, everyday, with them. That he thinks it would be easy, somehow—much easier than he might have expected. That he thinks he understands now that this new relationship with them has nothing to do with replacing his parents.

Mulder’s smile is so wide that Jackson suspects he eavesdropped. “We’d love to have you, Jackson,” he says.

“We’ll talk to your uncle,” adds Scully. “We can be more specific about your options after that.”

“Rose said she could teach you more about how to block me, you know,” Jackson tells them tactfully. “So you wouldn’t have to worry as much about… not having privacy. You know.”

Scully flushes, and Mulder hides a smile. “That might be nice,” Scully says.

“She also said there was a really good STEM high school in Alexandria,” Jackson suggests with more feigned disinterest.

“Rose is full of advice,” Mulder observes wryly.

“Yep,” Jackson agrees. “I got a message from her, by the way.” He eyes the bagel on his plate again. “When you all first went in to call the lawyer.”

“Really?” Mulder says. “A … psychic message?”

“That sounds kind of overdramatic,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes and picking his bagel back up. “But yeah. She said she was home.”

“Good,” Scully says. “That’s good.” She throws Mulder a glance.

“She also said to tell you something, Scully.”

“She … did?”

“She said to tell you that they listened to her.” He looks at Scully to see if that’s meaningful, but her face looks blank. “Rose said that … she told them what she wanted, and they listened.”

He shrugs, deciding it doesn’t matter that much, and he takes a big bite of the bagel. Scully has a point about getting them fresh, he decides. They taste so much better this way. You could only get bagels in a bag at the grocery store in Rawlins.

A plummeting feeling from the pit of Scully’s stomach makes him look up.

“What?” Mulder asks her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Scully’s face has lost color. “No. I just …”

“Who listened to her?” Mulder insists. “What does that message mean?”

“I asked her … if the Walled Garden leaders listened to her,” Scully says in a low voice. “If they respected her.”

Jackson swallows part of his bagel so he’s able to talk. Through a mouthful: “You think she asked the Walled Garden for something she wanted?”

Mulder stares at Jackson, and then turns back to Scully, his eyes widening. “You think she asked them for something she wanted,” he repeats in a low voice, realizing. “Oh wow.”

“This morning, she said she was going home to take care of something,” Scully whispers, her eyes on him.

Jackson swallows his last mouthful. “What?”

“So she goes home,” Mulder says in disbelief to Scully. “And within a few hours…”

“Is it possible, Mulder?”

Jackson finally gets it. “You think she asked the Walled Garden to make sure the charges were dropped against me. Don’t you?”

Scully and Mulder are still looking hard at one another. “It happened so fast,” Mulder says. “All in less than six hours. If it was really the machinations of the Walled Garden…”

“They have an alarming amount of power,” says Scully. “Over multiple entities of government. An amount of power comparable to…”

“The Syndicate.” Mulder sits next to them on the couch, puts his head in his hands. “Can this be true? I don’t know what to make of an organization like this. They’re not even… strictly human. But they may be involved in… it’s overwhelming.”

They don’t say anything for a moment, looking dazed. Jackson watches them both in profile, unsure what to say.

“What do we do, Scully?” Mulder says.

She looks away, towards the window. There are entire worlds—entire universes—in Scully’s eyes. Jackson feels weirdly like his shine is lost in something enormous.

“I guess it’s fortunate there’s an investigative unit of the FBI qualified to keep an eye on them,” Scully says slowly and resolutely at last.

She turns and picks up Mulder’s hand. He lifts his head out of his hands and meets her stare.

“And keep an eye on Rose, too?” Jackson says incredulously.

“Yeah,” agrees Mulder, a strange finality. “And keep an eye on Rose.”

A fierce undertow of worry from Scully. But is Rose on the right side? How could we convince her? What if Rose were involved with something fundamentally wrong? What about any other members of the Walled Garden Mulder might feel connected to?

They’re frighteningly powerful anxieties, and Jackson doesn’t even understand some of them. They’re shot through with the stinging, luminous heat of her love. But weirdly he doesn’t feel himself getting drawn into these anxieties right now, even though he’s prone to worrying himself.

It’s just the more overwhelming emotion coming at him right now is what’s coming from Mulder. This ridiculous hopefulness. Bigger and more buoyant than ever. It fills up, expands and crowds out all competing feelings.

Jackson isn’t sure if Mulder is essentially being like a gullible kid—if he wants to believe things that aren’t true just to comfort himself. If that’s true, he is much, much better at it than Jackson. Because every cell in his body seems to be singing the same song: somehow, this will be okay. Somehow, what's wrong is going to get better. Jackson decides Mulder feeling like this is a good thing, even if it's not an entirely logical or sane thing.

As Mulder draws Scully into his side, and suggests they watch his favorite movie—some old movie about space that Scully protests vehemently—Jackson notices the influence of Mulder’s hope beginning to work on her, too. She’s arguing back, but she’s starting to relax, too. She’s got this little smile on her lips. Her anxieties are receding, falling into the background.

Jackson pulls his knees up at his end of the couch and stops listening to their good-natured argument. He wonders how it would be received if he asked if his friend Louis could come visit some time. He has a brilliant idea about splashing red paint around the inside of the Bunny Man Bridge and freaking the shit out of Louis. It would be hilarious. Also, he’d just like to see Louis. He misses him.

Mulder and Scully want Jackson to be the tie-breaker in deciding the movie. They both look over and ask him, with curious faces, what he wants to watch.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Finding Nemo,” he suggests at once. “Or The Incredibles.”

“Aren’t those kid movies?” Mulder asks suspiciously.

“Not ... entirely,” Jackson says.

“What are they about, then?”

Jackson considers his answer a minute and lands upon the right words. “They’re about doing crazy shit for your family.”

He wins.

***

Y'all, thank you so much for reading. I’m truly grateful for all of your encouraging, supportive notes and tags. You have no idea what they mean.

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

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specialagentlokitty · 2 months

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Hannibal lector x reader - unravelling

Part 1:

Sitting down on the back of the bench, you rested your arms on your knees as you glanced at the man next to you, taking the coffee cup from him to drink some.

“You know we can’t survive on coffee alone, when are you going to actually eat a proper meal?”

“Shut up Kyle.”

He grinned a little at you, taking the coffee cup back to take a sip from it.

“You coming by later?”

You nodded your head, grabbing his arm so you could take a look at his watch.

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“So you’re not blowing off your boss? Or your therapy?”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even go into it.”

“I won’t, but I reckon those three might.”

He pointed to the side and you turned to look at the three men walking over and you sighed heavily, snatching the coffee cup from him, downing the rest.

“Come on! That was mine!” Kyle whined.

“I’ll buy you another, I’m going to need it trust me.”

He hummed a little bit, standing up, holding his fist out to you.

“Catch you on the other side.”

You nodded, tapping your fist against his, and he mock saluted to three that had stopped just in front of you before he walked away.

You turned to the three that had came over.

“What?” You asked.

“Hannibal says you’ve been avoiding your therapy sessions.” Will frowned.

You shrugged a little bit, running a hand through your hair, climbing down from the bench in front of them all.

Crossing your arms, you turned your attention to Jack, narrowing your eyes a little bit.

“Told you I’m not part of the FBI anymore, stop getting involved in my life.”

“We’re concerned, we’re your friends, we want to make sure you’re alright and we can’t do that if you keep declining all of our calls.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve thought about that before you sent me on a case alone without backup.”

Walking past, you stopped by Hannibal, offering him a small nod of your head.

“Doctor Lector, I’d appreciate if you cancelled all future appointments.”

“Perhaps we could talk about this beforehand?” He asked.

You didn’t say anything as you walked away, making your way to the bar you had began to call a second home, sitting yourself on a stool.

“The usual?” The woman asked.

“And a cigarette if you’ve got one Anna.”

She smiled at you, sliding a glass over to you, and you took a sip from it, taking the cigarette she had just lit.

You took a drag, and pointed to a few of the bottles behind her.

“Might wanna hide them.”

“Doves?”

You shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket to show her all of the missed calls and texts from everybody.

She nodded, placing all the things under the counter, and she leant over it, taking your phone so she could read through everything.

“You ever thought maybe therapy could help?”

“With that? It isn’t going to lead me to the person I’m looking for.”

She gave a small nod.

“Maybe not, but come on (Y/N) we all know what you’ve been through. It could help make everything clear. You’re so hell bent on this you’re going to get yourself killed doing it.”

You glared a little bit at Anna.

“I don’t care, the asshole that fucked my life deserves the same amount of shit that I’ve been through.”

She sighed softly, pulling at your longish hair a little bit.

“Can I at least give you a haircut, this is getting out of hand and you look like you live in the wild.”

“What you thinking?”

She hummed a little bit, walking around the bar and stood in front of you with her hands on her hips as she tilted her head to the side.

“I’m kind of thinking a mullet, you know like shave around the sides, you can still style it however you want. Plus I really want to see if it’s gonna grow back white or (H/C).”

You laughed a little, shrugging your shoulders.

“Go nuts Anna, do whatever.”

She grinned brightly, and dragged a chair over to the middle of the bar, and you sat on it while you waited for her to finish with your hair.

You were just having a small talk with her while she cut your hair, and when she finished she ruffled it, handing you a mirror while she cleaned up.

You looked at it, brushing your hair aside to look at the shaved sides, and you stood up, setting the mirror on the chair.

Bending your head down, you ruffled your hair for a few seconds before standing up, brushing it back with your hand.

“I like it, it’s refreshing to have a new look in a way.”

“Wasn’t a hairdresser for years for no reason.”

“It’s still weird you decided to open a bar for ghouls instead but you do you Anna.”

She laughed, going back behind the bar and held up your phone that had started to ring again.

“It’s your therapist.”

“Decline it.”

She hung up on Hannibal, and you stayed there for a few hours, meeting Kyle there for a little while before heading back to your apartment.

You went for a shower, and stood in front of the covered mirror as you dried your hair, tossing the towel aside as you pulled a sweater on, trying not to look at the large scar across your stomach.

Leaving your bathroom, you went to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee, and you walked to the living room to turn on the Tv while you waited for it to be ready.

“Hey.”

You turned to the front door, looking at the slightly beat up man that walked through.

“Doves?”

“More and more out each day. Here.”

He tossed your a neatly wrapped package in brown paper, and you caught it, heading to the kitchen to put it on a plate.

You grabbed your coffee and plate, sitting down to eat while you watched whatever was going on with the world at the moment.

Finishing the food you were given you set the plate down, picking up your coffee cup, taking a couple of sips as your roommate came back out.

“Seriously don’t leave that shit laying around.”

He took your plate, going to wash it for you.

“Sam?”

You heard him hum a little bit.

“Anna said I should stop hunting the man who did this to me.”

“Do you think you should?”

He walked out from the kitchen, leaning against the doorway, crossing his arms.

“No. I mean come on, if he did this to me then who knows how many he’s already done this too, or how many more he’s planning.”

Sam nodded his head.

“Do you think he’ll do it again?”

“You’ve got to be seriously fucked to put ghoul organs in a human just to see if it would work.”

Sam sighed a little bit, walking over to sit in front of you on the table.

“All I’ll say is don’t act rashly (Y/N), with the doves crawling about, on the hunt for ghouls, trying to track down members of the hell hounds. Which means you’re in twice as much danger.”

You sighed, nodding your head as you slumped back into the couch.

“Look, I’m going to do whatever I have to do Sam, plus you didn’t have to follow me.”

“Considering you’re still pretty new to our world, and you’re currently running ranks in the biggest ghoul organisation in the state, and you just took over three wards of the city, I’m going to say I did.”

You smiled a little bit.

“You’re a good friend.”

He shrugged a little bit.

“It’s easier to pay rent with you living here, so can’t exactly have you dying on me.”

“Wow, okay and I thought we were friends.”

He scoffed a little bit.

“Yeah, liked I’d be friends with a once human. That’s gross.”

“Aw come on Sam!”

You reached out to hug him and he pushed you back down on the couch, standing up as there was a knock on the door.

“Get away from me.”

You chuckled a little bit, watching as he went to answer the door, and you got up to go make yourself some more coffee.

You took a deep breath, and froze slightly, turning your attention to the doorway as Sam and Will appeared.

“Visitor.”

“Thanks Sam. Coffee?”

“Going to the bar.”

You nodded, turning to Will, gesturing to the coffee and he nodded his head so you made him a cup as well, handing it over to him.

You walked back to the couch, sitting down, and he sat down where Sam had been sat a few minutes ago.

“You cut your hair. Why?”

“It was about time, it was getting in the way. Why’re you here Will?”

He set his cup down.

“Because you need help, your accident was nearly two years ago (Y/N), you quite the FBI just over a year ago, now you’re abandoning your therapy?”

“I don’t need therapy, I’m fine.”

“You went missing for three months.”

“Needed time away.”

You took a sip of your coffee.

“You moved apartments, changed your whole friend group, appearance. I know you (Y/N), I grew up with you and this isn’t you.”

“Look Will, I got my life you have yours. Leave it at that.”

He shook his head.

“No. No something is off about you. Different.”

“Yeah, I was in an accident were I was in a horrific car accident. I think that kind of shit changes people Will.”

“That’s why you need to talk to Hannibal, come on please. The FBI are paying for it, so you don’t have to worry about that. You won’t talk to me, so please talk to somebody.”

Will looked at you, white hair, emotionless (E/C) eyes, you looked paler and skinner than the last time he had seen you a few months ago.

“I don’t recognise you anymore…” he whispered.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s for the better.”

You downed your coffee, and went back into the kitchen hoping that he would get the hint and leave, but he didn’t.

He walked into the kitchen, standing against the counter.

“Please just come by Hannibal’s office tomorrow evening. Think about it (Y/N), we all want to help you.”

Will gave you a small smile and he left, leaving you to think about what he had said.

You spent the whole night awake thinking about it as you sat at your desk, going through your medical files like you did every night.

Nothing ever changed, you never saw anything different, but you kept looking just in case.

You didn’t leave your room at all the following day, your phone kept lighting up with texts telling you to meet Will and Hannibal’s office.

As evening rolled around, you finally left your room, making your way into the living room where Sam was sat on the couch.

“Some dude came looking for your earlier, told him you weren’t home.”

“Will?”

“Jack Crawford. Wanted to talk to you about the accident.”

You hummed a little, grabbing your jacket.

“Going out.”

Sam pushed himself up, grabbing his own jacket as he trailed after you, hands stuffed in his pockets as he followed you out to the street where you melted into the people walking by.

“You don’t have to follow me.”

Sam didn’t say anything, and you glanced back at him before going back to walking about.

“Seriously? You called Kyle?”

“Not letting you walk around undefended in this state of mind.”

“I have to agree with hardass here.” Kyle said.

You sighed a little, crossing boundaries into the ward that had been overrun by ghouls.

It was mostly abandoned by people now, and as you emerged on the otherside of the alleyway you pulled on your skull mask, pulling on your gloves.

A few ghouls stopped to glance at you but didn’t do anything, and you carried on walking to the old fountain, and you sat down.

“Don’t often see you around these parts.” Someone spoke.

You flicked your gaze up to the hooded figure, and you shrugged a little bit.

“Have you found anything?”

“Nothing new, got some inside intel about the doves wanting to do a takedown of this ward, but they can’t organise a task force big enough. They’re spreading into the fourth and fifth wards though.”

You nodded your head.

“Keep away from them, don’t interact unless you have too. Got it?”

“That’s no fun.”

You stood up, turning to face him.

“Listen to me, do. Not. Interact. Got it?” You said lowly.

He grumbled a little bit but nodded his head, agreeing with you.

“Whatever you say Grimm, I’ll pass the message along.”

“Good, if I heard about anyone fucking with the doves on purpose I’ll personally deal with them.”

“I expect nothing else.”

You carried on wondering around for a little while until you finally left the ward, hiding your mask in your jacket again as you made your way back into normal public.

Kyle and Sam were still close behind you, and you turned to Kyle.

“Can you ask Anna to keep an ear to the ground?”

“Yeah, will do.”

He wondered away, and Sam stepped in line with you.

Neither of you said anything, but when you went to walk back home he grabbed the back of your jacket, directing you down a different path instead.

“What the hell?”

“Get your ass into that damn therapists office, I can’t be having them coming by every day.”

He pushed you into the building and you sighed, walking to the office you had been avoiding and knocked on the door.

After hearing Hannibal call for you to come in, you pushed the door open, walking in with Sam behind you, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall.

“I see you brought a friend.” Hannibal said.

“I see you brought two.”

“We just want to talk, that’s all.” Jack said gently.

You turned around to look at Sam, and he left the room, leaving the four of you alone and you walked over, sitting down in the chair Hannibal offered you.

“What is there to talk about?”

“Your spiralling path into self destruction.” Jack sighed

#Hannibal #hannibal x reader #Hannibal x you #hannibal imagine #Hannibal lector #hannibal lector x reader #Hannibal lector x you #Hannibal lector imagine

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

The Washington Tales

Request from anon: Could you perhaps write something about how the reader is Spencer’s kid and they don’t like how he always gets up and goes on cases and they’re stuck alone or with a babysitter so they try to make a point by running away and Spencer has to rush home?

Spencer Reid x teen!reader

Summary: Spencer's busy schedule leaves you feeling lonely. You run away, finding company in an old friend.

A/N: Alright if I'm gonna write Spencer I'm writing full on super-nerd-dad Spencer. We all know that this man is a total dork and i'm running with it. Only real ones will understand the title reference.

CW: reader feeling lonely, running away, nerd level is through the roof.

---

Spencer heard his phone ringing insistently behind him. He had already let it go to voicemail twice and the sound of the plastic against the table was beginning to interrupt his concentration. He turned away from the evidence board and moved towards the table to see who needed him so desperately while he was working.

“You better have not given my number out again, Morgan,” Reid said, recalling their past prank war.

“I never use the same prank twice, pretty boy,” Morgan said, not looking up from his files.

When Spencer saw that the number was your school he automatically became concerned. Your teachers were worried that you were beginning to fall behind on your assignments. They wanted to set up a parent conference with him, but the team had been so loaded with cases he simply didn’t have the time. He didn’t even have time for this phone call if he was being honest, but he picked it up anyway.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he said, still in professional mode instead of dad mode from working on the case for so long.

“Dr. Reid,” the lady on the phone started. “We’re calling because your child, (Y/N) Reid, never showed up for school this morning.”

“Pardon?” Spencer said.

“They’re absent from school today,” the lady told him.

“Okay, thank you.” He hung up the phone and went to dial Garcia.

“What is it?” Morgan asked.

“(Y/N) didn’t go to school this morning,” Spencer told him. Morgan gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ve reached the FBI’s office of supreme genius, how may I serve you today?” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, can you track (Y/N)’s phone. They didn’t show up to school today,” he said.

“Sure thing… annnddddd they’re at your apartment.”

Spencer sighed. “Thanks, Garcia.” As soon as he hung up he called you, but you didn’t answer. He tried again, just for good measure, but he didn’t bother leaving a voicemail. There was a real possibility that you hadn't charged your phone- another bad habit you had fallen into recently. Instead, he texted the babysitter- you were old enough that you didn’t need one, but he hired a nice lady to check on you in the evenings just to make sure you were okay. He let her know the situation and to tell you to call him when she saw you that night.

---

When Spencer’s phone rang again he was still looking at the evidence board, trying to piece together the case. He averted his view from the crime scene photos to answer the call.

“Dr. Reid,” the babysitter sounded panicked and upset. “Dr. Reid, they’re gone.”

“Wait, slow down,” Spencer said as calmly as possible. “What happened?”

Now it sounded like the babysitter was close to tears. “I came into the apartment to check on (Y/N) and they aren’t here! They just left a note that says “Farewell, I am gone.” signed with their initials. Dr. Reid, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer felt a strange feeling bubble in his gut- a note could mean a million things. “It’s not your fault,” he told the babysitter. “But I need you to send me a picture of the note, okay? As clear as you can possibly get it.”

“Oh-okay.” She sniffled and Spencer heard rustling on the other end of the line before receiving the picture.

“Thank you,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. Go home and get some rest.” He hung up before she could reply.

He didn’t want to tell the babysitter that a note usually meant one of two things- either you’d been kidnapped and coerced into writing something to make it seem as if you had run away, or you had actually run away. And it didn’t take an expert in handwriting analysis to see that the note you had left was freely written.

“Damn it.” He wanted to say some other words as well, but Hotch had just walked into the room.

“What is it, Reid?” he asked.

“(Y/N) ran away.” Spencer looked desperately between his phone and the evidence board. Now, instead of his brain being too preoccupied with work all he could feel was worry. Anything could have happened to you and you had obviously been gone since this morning, but there was a chance that you had fled after the babysitter left you alone the previous night. You could have been anywhere.

“Go home,” Hotch told him. He tossed him the keys to one of the SUVs. “It’s about a seven hour drive back to Virginia. Get Garcia to help you.”

Reid thanked his boss and got into the car. He had never been one to speed, much less speed and talk on the phone at the same time, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Garcia looked through everything- people you could have called, public transportation you might have taken, even going as far as to hack into the security cameras at your favorite bookstore- but the only trace you had left was that you had pulled some money from an ATM.

Spencer drove straight to the apartment and looked around for any clues you may have left about where you were going, but there was nothing except the note. You hadn’t packed a bag and the amount of money you had wasn’t enough to sustain you for very long. You couldn’t have gone far. It wasn’t like his mom could take care of you and surely if you had showed up at one of your friend’s houses their parents would have called him. His brain was working at a million miles an hour, trying to think of where you could have possibly gone.

“Reid,” Garcia said, sympathetically, “I know I’m not a parent and I’m not a profiler, but have you ever stopped to think about why (Y/N) ran away?”

“I-” He paused, thinking about your behavior in the past few months. It wasn’t just the trouble at school- it was also not wanting to watch TV with him when he was home or even making dinner for yourself and not waiting until he got home to eat together. The team had been so busy that he had pulled away… and you had pulled away from him too. “I’ll call you back, Garcia.”

Spencer ran out of the apartment and back down to the car. He knew where you had gone. It was where he would have gone too.

---

You weren’t sure if there was a place you loved more than the Library of Congress. The building itself was glorious; looking as though someone had carved it all out of one massive slab of stone. The columns stretched tall and strong, supporting arches painted like tiles. Grand floors were patterned with shapes that fit together like a mosaic.

But it was the soul of the building that you really loved- being surrounded by hundreds of thousands of books that each had something to teach or a story to tell. You remembered coming there with your dad when you were younger and him telling you that as long as you had a good book in your hand you would never be alone. So of course when you felt most alone you went somewhere full of things that couldn’t possibly make you feel lonely- but the your heart still felt as empty as the apartment. At the moment, your only friend was fiction.

“Oh, (Y/N) dear, we’re closed!” One of the librarians rushed up to you. She had known you since Spencer began taking you there as a baby. She had watched your taste in literature change from picture books all the way to helping you find a copy of a research paper you had wanted to write about for school.

You looked down a bit sadly. “I know visiting hours are up, but can I stay just a bit longer? My dad is away on a case again and I could use some company.”

The librarian smiled at you, the lines in her face far more prominent than they had been when you were little. “Of course. As long as you put your favorite friend away when you’re done.” She winked at you behind wire framed glasses and walked in the opposite direction.

The library was large enough to get lost in, but you knew where you were going like the back of your hand- It was the same book that you pulled out every time your dad was away. Not wanting to go all the way to the reading room, you sat down on the floor before carefully flipping through the book’s pages and beginning to read through something you so badly wished was being read to you instead.

---

Footsteps echoed through the library, coming slowly up behind you. You expected it to be a security guard, telling you that it was time for the library to rest for the night, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the echoing stopped and you heard your dad’s voice.

“Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon/Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free.”

You turned to look at your dad. He was still wearing his work attire, his hair a tangled mess of brown curls, but even in the dim light of the library you could see the small smile on his face.

You scowled. “Though there was nowhere one so busy as he/ He was less busy than he seemed to be,” you retored and went back to your reading.

You heard Spencer sigh before walking up and taking a seat beside you. “I’m not busy now.”

“It’s a bit late for that, dad.” You didn’t take your eyes off the pages, but you were no longer reading the words, tears building up in your eyes.

Spencer gently pulled the book from your hands and closed it. “You know,” he started. “When you were little, Garcia bought you a box set of Dr. Seuss books. I thought you would be so excited to see all the fun pictures and colors, but every time you were given a choice, you always asked me to read you this.” He held up the book- The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. "Please tell me what's going on," he said quietly.

You turned away, not wanting your dad to see that you were crying. “I miss you, dad. You’re never around anymore and I get really lonely without you.”

“(Y/N),” he cooed, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged a little helplessly. “You catch criminals and save people. I can’t just ask you to stay home because I’m sad you’re gone.” It came out a bit sarcastic, but the tears were still real.

Spencer took a handkerchief from his pocket and softly dried your eyes before offering the book back to you. “Page 549, paragraph 2, last sentence.”

You carefully took the book from his hands and turned to the page, tracing your finger down to the location he had told you. As you read the line in your head, your dad said it outloud:

“Amour vincit omnia: Love conquers all.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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flowering-thought · 1 year

Note

Dante NSFW HCs???? Can we spare some Dante HCs??????

Of course Anon! I gotchu babe-

Honestly been wanting to do Dante as he just loves on my mind rent free <33

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, public sex, slight blood mention, mentions of toy use in public, oral, praise kink-

⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚.

Dante Morelli

NSFW Headcannons

• Oh boy, I pray for his darling-

• About 8 inches (20 cm), not too fat but fat enough that your fingers can barely wrap around his girth. Has a Jacob's ladder as well. Also a frenum and public piercing- (look it up if you want your fbi agent to be concerned-)

• Stamina? Well honestly could go all night if he's extra riled up but if he's tired he'll last maybe 2 or 3 rounds.

• Not even going to lie the man has a public sex kink. He can get away with a lot as both a CEO and mob boss. And a random meeting where he has you facing him, cockwarming his cock while his leg bounces against your ass, making that little buzz of his dick inside you make you want more.

• Definitely gets off on watching how embarrassed you get. But all of his men know better than to look at you like that. As much as he likes showing off he doesn't like people looking at you in a lewd manner so expect rough thrusts when he gets angry at someone's gaze.

• He can't help it honestly. It's the first time he's ever wanted to flaunt his power and show you to people that there's no chance in hell they can have you.

• A big believer in praise as well. Loves calling you a good girl and complimenting your pussy. Does it in front of others as well and loves to see your face blush-

• A slightly soft Dom. He's not a virgin and he did take care of his urges with random girls but when he met you he felt like he couldn't get it up for anyone else after that.

• Loves it when you're clinging to him and digging your nails into his back. He adores it entirely and if you leave scratches on his skin that make him bleed he always gets this smug smirk on his face ♡

• He doesn't mind if it ruins his tattoos either, he'd rather have the scratches you gave him than give a damn about a tattoo he got to become the boss of the company.

• He loves your moans. Something in him loves to slowly thrust hard to hit that particular spot just to hear you moan. And if you attempt to cover your mouth he gets agitated and grabs your hands to pin them above your head. When he does this, his free hand reaches for your thigh and begins to push under your knee to spread your legs and start thrusting faster.

• Honestly also loves to eat you out. He loves to overestimate you and lick you till your legs are shaking. Honestly, if he suffocates between your legs, it makes him get hard. A slight masochist but not too much-

• And gets super loving when you blow him. Loves to slowly drag his cock in and out of your mouth, and if you can throat him loves going even more slowly when he can feel his length sliding down ♡

• Not a big breeding kink. Honestly, the idea of kids frightens him as he wasn't treated too well as a child and he doesn't know how to treat children. But sometimes when he sees his cum leak out he can't help but wonder what you'd look like swollen with your legs spread.

• Likes to use toys when he's tired and sometimes out in public. Might use them as a punishment depending on how jealous he is.

• Absolutely addicted to kissing you. Can't help it when your lips look so cute when swollen from him latching onto your lips.

• Also has a thing for tits. Doesn't matter the size he just loves sucking on them. If you have nipple piercings he might just suck on them more or buy some jewelry for you that he thinks would look cute.

• Honestly loves coming home to you. His once boring and mundane life turned into a passionate and lust-filled one. Sometimes when he gets home to you he needs you no matter what you're doing or where you are. At this point, he's probably fucked you in every room including the terrace and porch.

• But even if he's jealous he always lets you cum. He can't help it cause he loves the way your face looks. He's a man who loves making love to you, even if that love is a little rough sometimes-

So don't let him get away okay? He'd be so terribly lonely without you and if he has to he'll fuck you dumb till there's no thought of leaving him in your head ♡

#.dante_morelli_♡#yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #soft yandere #yandere imagines #chubby reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere male x reader #yandere male #tw public sex #tw praise kink

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crowleysgirl67 · 5 months

Text

Unexpected

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 3250

Parings/Characters: BAU Team, Reader x Hotch, Alexandra (OFC), Jack Hotchner,

Warnings: Show warnings, nondescript case, idk

A/N: Song is Older by isabel larosa the sped up version.

A woman jogging alone on a forest jogging path in the early morning mist. She trips on what she assumes is a tree root. After hitting the ground she rolls onto her side to see what she has tripped over. A scream echoes through the forest as the woman sees she has tripped over a body barely off the jogging path. The feet of the dead woman sticking out on the path just enough to trip the jogger.

***

“Locals have asked for our help with this case.” JJ said handing Spencer his paper file as the rest of you use the tablets to look at information. “Three young women ranging from eighteen to twenty-four have been murdered in the last six months. All have had their vocal cords cut from their bodies.”

“The latest victim Kendra Montgomery was found early yesterday morning by a jogger.” Garcia adds.

“Two of the three girls were white while the other was of Asian descent. So that kinda rules out a preferential reason. Or at least race isn’t a determining factor of how the victims are picked.” you state looking through the pictures.

“We can deliberate on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.” Hotch stands up.

Everyone disperses to grab their bags, leaving you and Hotch as the last ones to leave the room. Your heels click on the floor as you go around putting chairs back into place. You could feel him watching you as you did. Hotch and you had met about a year and a half earlier and had a one-night stand. Which was highly unusual for him but enough alcohol and loneliness can influence anyone. You hadn’t spoken to him since, until you transferred into his unit. He was shocked, but you both agreed to be professional.

“See you on the plane.” you said softly. He nodded in response and left to presumably go call his son.

“The time between his kills is getting shorter. Kills victim one, Andrea Kemp, six months ago. Then victim two, Mei Vuong, last month. Less than a full month between Mei and Kendra.” Emily points out.

“Doesn’t seem like he’s concerned with forensics. Plenty of fibers and things found with the bodies.” you say, looking over the forensic reports.

“No hits in any database so he’s not offended before or hasn’t been caught offending.” Reid muses.

“Let’s interview the families. Reid go over the girls records to see if you find anything. Dave, Morgan start with the crime scene and then go see Andreas' family. Prentiss, JJ take Meis' family. (Y/N) with me we’ll see the most recent victim, Kendras family.” Hotch divvies out what needs to be done.

***

“How sure are we that Nathan Benson is going to strike again so soon?” you ask

“He’s devolving. He needs to.” Reid replies

“So why are we waiting for him to take an innocent person? Why not give him what he wants?” you question.

“He already knows Prentiss and I are FBI.” JJ says.

“He doesn’t know me. I was never in the bar or did any interviews with him. I can go in, get his attention.”

“Have you done undercover before?” Morgan asks.

“Guys I get I’m new and you're skeptical but I got this.” you pulled out a bag and touched up your makeup, putting on some bright red lipstick. You took your hair out of the ponytail and messed it up to give it a stressed sex look. Tugging your skirt up to mid thigh, you set your badge and gun down. “There’s an alley about a block away. I can walk by that, it’s the perfect place for him to want to kill. One of you can hide out there.” you said as you un tucked your blouse and tied it up exposing your midriff. You popped a button at the top exposing more cleavage. “Who hasn’t had interactions with him beside me?”

“I haven’t and neither has Hotch.” Morgan answers.

“Ok. Give it five and one of you can follow me in. And for heaven's sake if it’s you Hotch lose the ‘I’m an agent look’ yeah? Just a regular guy in a bar.” you hopped out the back of the surveillance van.

Morgan stifled a snicker, “We’ll see you in five.”

You gave a thumbs up and sauntered on in. You walked up to the bar and leaned over whispering in the bartender's ear to give you coke on the rocks, before surveying the establishment. You spotted Nathan back by the door to the kitchen. You made yourself comfy on the stool closest to him before striking up a conversation.

“I hear you have a nice karaoke thing going on here.” you smiled as you accepted the drink from the bartender. “Is that like a local thing? Or can out of towners join.” you purr, sipping your drink and batting your lashes at him.

“Anyone can join.” he smiled charmingly. “You like to sing?”

“Been doing it since I was little. How’s the selection?”

“Why don’t I show you?” he pushed away from the wall and showed you the music available.

You debated music as you flirted with him before finally choosing a song.

You went up to the mic as the music began, “Think I need someone older. Just a little bit colder. Takes the weight off your shoulders. Think I need someone older.”

You made eye contact with Hotch as he walked in. “Baby, am I your little secret? 18, I'm old enough to keep it.”

You finished the song, avoiding looking at Hotch again. He’d shed his suit coat and tie and had his sleeve rolled up to his elbows. Looking at him again would just prove to be a distraction.

‘Focus (Y/N). Now is not the time to be thinking about your baby daddy boss.’ you thought as you shifted your thoughts back to the task at hand.

You pretended to be more and more intoxicated as the night wore on before ‘stumbling’ out of the bar and headed in the direction of the alley. You teetered about as you walked, to keep up the appearance of being intoxicated. When you got to the alley you stopped and bent down putting your hands on your thighs, appearing as if you were about to vomit.

Nathan grabbed you then and dragged you into the alley. He brandished a knife and got a swipe in before you kicked him back and Morgan jumped from the shadows gun drawn.

“Drop it Nathan. It’s over.” he ordered as Hotch rounded the corner with the others.

“(Y/N) are you alright?” Hotch glanced at you holding your bloodied arm.

“Tis’ but a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.” you waved him off as you walked out of the alley. Your arm was the least of your concerns. You leaked through your padding and you didn’t need the embarrassment nor questions about your now wet shirt. It’d been a few hours since you’d been able to slip away to pump and you really should have done it sooner, but with everything going on it’d slipped your mind.

You made it back to the cars and grabbed your bag. Hopefully you could manage to cover up at least until you could get a moment to fix the issue.

“(Y/N).” JJs soft voice and hand on your shoulder startled you. You hadn’t heard her approach as you grabbed a sweater from your bag.

“Geez JJ.” you pulled the sweater to your chest.

“How old is your baby?” she asks, getting straight to the point.

Well so much for getting away unseen. “She’s six months old.” you replied softly to avoid being overheard.

“Do what ya gotta. I’ll cover for you.” she smiled softly but you knew she’d be asking you about it more later.

“Thank you, I just need ten minutes.” you climbed in the back of the SVU. JJ shut the door and stood outside it waiting.

“Where’s (Y/N)? The medics are here. I want her to get checked out.” Hotch asked, approaching the car.

“She’ll be out in a minute. She’s changing her shirt.” JJ answered.

Luckily you were just finished pumping. You put everything away quickly and tossed on the clean sweater leaving your hurt arm exposed for easy access, and climbed out of the car. You gave JJs shoulder a gentle squeeze in thanks.

Hotch escorted you over to the medics. “You’re lucky it wasn't worse.”

“I know. But it’s not like I did this alone. You guys were backing me up.” you winced at the alcohol put on the wound to clean it as the medic patched you up. A couple of steri strips and a bandage was all it took. “See? I didn’t even need stitches.”

“Still.” he narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it.” he said so softly you almost missed it.

“Aaron..” you trailed off as Rossi came over.

“Good job kid. How ya feeling?” he asked

“Stings a little but I’m alright.” you tuck your newly bandaged arm into the sleeve of your sweater.

Everyone went back to the hotel to gather things and meet on the plane. JJ met you by your room with her bag.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a kid?” she asked, following you in as you started packing.

“It’s in my file.” you shrug.

“Only Hotch and Rossi can read those.”

“Oh well that’s good to know.” you finish packing.

“What's her name?”

“Alexandra.” you smiled softly and showed JJ some pictures on your phone.

“She’s adorable.” JJ smiles.

“Thanks. She’s getting so big.”

“If you don’t mind me asking; where’s her dad?”

“He doesn’t know about her. She was a result of a drunken night.” you followed her out of the room.

“Oh. Well if you have a name we could always help you find him.” She offered.

“That’s sweet of you to offer but I’ll tell him.”

“You know who he is?” she asked, surprised.

“I’ve seen him again recently.”

“Seen who?” Reid asks as you meet most of the others in the lobby.

‘Well, might as well drop this bombshell’ you thought as you didn’t see Hotch. “My daughters father.”

“You have a kid?” Morgan asked.

“Why is that surprising to everyone?” you chuckle “Do I not look old enough for a kid or somethin?”

“Just you don’t talk about having a kid.” Emily pipes in.

“Hotch doesn’t talk about his kid much either.” you point out.

“That’s different, at least we know about Jack. You’ve never mentioned your kid before.”

“Touche.” you concede to her point.

“So tell us about her.” Morgan encouraged.

“Alexandra is six months old. Full head of black curls.” you smiled and pulled her pictures up to show the rest of them. You let them pass your phone around to look at her pictures.

“Wow you weren’t kidding about that head of hair.” Morgan chuckled.

“Look at those big beautiful brown eyes.” Emily gushed.

You smiled, it was cute watching them fawn over her pictures.

“What’s going on over here?” Rossi asked as he approached, with Hotch.

“(Y/N) is showing off pictures of her daughter, Alexandra.” Emily passed him the phone.

You avoided looking back, you could feel Aarons stare burning a hole in the back of your head.

“Cute kid.” Rossi chuckled while showing Hotch. “How old?”

“She's six months old.” you replied, finally turning to face them. You watched Hotch take the phone for a better look. He was keeping a neutral face but you could tell he was calculating her age and factoring in your encounter. The phone shrilled in his hand and he gave it back.

“Pardon me.” you took it and answered walking a few paces off.

The others chatted amongst themselves, but Dave looked between the two of you. “You wanna tell me what that’s about?” he asked softly, careful to not be heard by the others.

“I’ll tell you later.” Hotch replied.

Hotch cornered you by your car after arriving back in DC. “We need to talk.”

“Great, get in the car. You can talk while I drive.” you tossed your bag in the back seat of your car. “Alex has a fever and I need to get home.”

His brow furrowed, “Fine. But I’m driving. Give me your keys.”

At this point you were too tired and stressed to argue so you tossed him your keys. He helped you into the passenger side before climbing in himself. “Directions?”

You gave him the way to your house and sat back waiting for his barrage of questions.

“Is she mine?” he asked after several minutes in silence.

“Yes. You were the first person I’ve slept with in awhile. I didn’t sleep with anyone after either so she’s definitely yours. We can get a DNA test if you want.”

He glanced over, “I believe you.”

Nothing else was said as he pulled into your drive. Danika, your nanny, was waiting on the porch with a screaming Alex. You hopped out of the car before he had it in park and jogged up the steps.

“Danika, how long has she been screaming like this?” you took Alex from her.

“About ten minutes Miss. Her fever is down to 99.3 from the 100.5 it was earlier. I gave her a dose of tylenol about 4 hours ago. I was gonna give her another but I wanted to wait for you.” she replied.

“Ok. Thank you. I've got it from here. I’ll see you in the morning.” you rocked Alex. “It’s ok baby. Mamas here.” you soothed her and took her inside Hotch on your heels.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course She’s your daughter too.” You passed her to him and went to get her some medicine. When you got back she wasn’t screaming. She had stopped and gone down to a small fuss. “I’ve got her meds.” you held them up.

He looked up, “See? Mamas got the feel good stuff. You’re ok.”

You tried to ignore the feeling running through you at him calling you mama, and walked over. “Do you want to give it to her?”

“Sure.” he smiled and took the meds from you. He gave her the meds as you watched him with her. He was so soft and gentle, it was a sweet surprise. Complete contrast to his usual behavior.

“What’s her full name?” he asks as he rocks her.

“Alexandra Haley Hotchner. I did remember your name.” you said softly.

He swallowed and looked back down at Alex. “Why did you choose Haley as her middle name?”

“A feeling I guess. I can’t really describe it. The name just kept floating around in my head for weeks.”

“Hailey was my wifes name. Jack's mother.” he said softly.

“I’m sorry Aaron. She’s young enough, we can always change it if it hurts too much.”

“No. No, it's perfect.” he smiled as she held his finger.

“I guess it was meant to be then.” you smiled softly.

He stayed up with you talking about Alex. How you were going to coparent. How to explain this to everyone and how to introduce Jack to Alex. It was really late by the time you finished.

“Do you want to spend the night? It’s late and we took my car here.”

“That’d be great. Thank you. I’ll let Jess know I’ll be home later.”

You showed him to the guest room before taking Alex and putting her in her nursery. You checked her temperature, which thankfully had gone down again. After making sure the baby monitor was on you left the room. You checked on Aaron one more time before going to bed.

It took a few weeks but you eventually introduced Jack to Alex. You’d be meeting Aaron at his house so it would be comfortable for Jack.

“Does this mean you’re gonna get married?” Jack asked Hotch as he waited by the window.

“Uh.. no bud. (Y/N) and I aren’t going to get married.” he answered. He wasn’t about to explain the complicatedness of this whole situation to a child. Jack was too young to understand.

“They’re here!” Jack shouts excitedly.

“Alright. Remember your sister is still a baby and so you need to be gentle and not so loud ok?”

“I know dad.” Jack hops down from the couch by the window.

He chuckled as he opened the door to greet you. “Hey (Y/N) come on in.”

“Hey.” you smiled and stepped inside.

“(Y/N) this is Jack. Jack this is (Y/N).”

You passed Alex to Hotch and knelt down to greet Jack. “Hi Jack.” you held out your hand.

Jack glanced up at his dad, who gave him a slight nod. He shook your hand, “Hi.”

“You’ve got a good handshake there bud. Did your dad teach you?”

Jack nods enthusiastically and you smile. “Are you ready to meet Alex?”

“Yes!”

“Well go on then.” you nod to Aaron who's gone and sat on the couch with her.

He ran over and stood in front of them. You smiled watching Aaron introduce them. Alex cooed and squirmed in his arms as Jack giggled.

Over the next few weeks you spent a lot of time with Aaron and Jack letting them get to spend time with Alex.

“(Y/N)?” Jack looked up at you from the floor where he was playing by Alex.

“Yeah bud?” you looked up from your book.

“If Alex is my sister, does that make you my new mommy?”

“Come here bud.” you put your book down and picked him up and set him on the couch. “Your mommy will always be your mommy. Just like I will always be Alex’s mommy. I am not here to replace her. I’m not your new mommy but I would like to be your friend.”

“Do you want to be my mommy? You can marry daddy.” he looked up at you.

“Oh sweetheart.” your heart ached for him. “Your daddy and I aren’t getting married. We aren’t even dating.”

“Do you want to date my daddy?”

“I like your dad very much. Sometimes adult stuff is complicated. You don’t need to worry about those things, ok?”

“Ok.” he nodded and hopped back off the couch to continue playing.

You racked a hand through your hair, and turned when you heard a sound. Aaron was leaning in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. You got up and went over to him.

“Are you alright?”

He ignored the question, “So you really like me huh?”

“You heard that? Yes I like you.” you answered. “We wouldn't have a baby if I didn't like you.”

He’d been in the middle of a sip when you said that and choked a little on his drink. You covered your mouth to stifle your giggle. He had a little coffee dribble so you took the baby rag from your shoulder and dabbed the corner of his mouth to clean it up.

“I need to put this down.” he rasped and went to the kitchen, you followed, still snickering. He set the cup down and gripped the edge of the counter to compose himself.

“What do we do now?” you asked.

He took a breath and turned to face you, “I’d like to give us a try. Jack likes you, I like you. You like me. So (Y/N) would you go on a date with me?”

You smiled, “I’d love too. We skipped that the last time.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds #hotch x reader

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Note

Can we get some angst with Matt?

I mean… always. spoilers for season 3 of the show if you’ve not caught up. I’m currently watching season 3 hence the scene choice

matt murdock x f!reader

summary: he should have just lied.

[part of the mm sleepover]

++++++++++

He anticipated that you’d know he was back before everyone else. Even if you’d avoided him.

But, even he hadn’t expect to find you in the church. Sat in a pew.

You weren’t religious. Hated it all, in fact. But, you were upset and he guesses it was a driving force for what made you enter.

You’d always had a weird gift for knowing where he was—if he was close. He knows he shouldn’t have gone to your apartment, sat on the fire escape just to listen to you sleep.

You had a special sense when he was concerned, and he had a soft spot for you.

Something neither of you could ever explain.

Both fighting it until the last moment, falling together in a blitz of desperation and passion which resulted in him being permanently changed.

For him, you could have been it. If not for Elektra. If not for loving her and you at the same time.

But then you whisper his name, saving him from his thoughts. Pulling him back to the present, to the church.

He’s unsure what to expect when he sits beside you. Half-bracing for a hug, an abundance of emotions. And then he listens, really listens.

Finding you trying to manage your emotions as you face forward, hands together on your lap, awkwardly squeezing and un-squeezing as his knee meets the side of yours.

“Nice of you to let me know you’re alive, Matthew.”

He doesn’t reply immediately. Unsure what to say, do, except answer with: “The person you knew is dead.”

You snort. Small. Sharp. “Well, that answers that then. I guess I’ll move on.”

He can taste your bitterness. Practically feel the waves of annoyance. Your head not turning to face him. Not yet. Your back straightening, body tensing. He can hear it all, each muscle in your body preparing to not give in.

Matt is overwhelmed by the memories too. The good times, the way your nails feel in his hair when he sunk to his knees to bury himself in your thighs. The way you moaned his name, the way your hips twist and move when you rode him. The way your perfume lingered on his skin.

“You should move on.”

You snort again. “I’ll get right on that, Matthew. Up until now I’ve just been carrying a torch for you, creating a shrine—“

“—Look, I get—“

He doesn’t need eyes to know how sharp your glare is.

“I don’t think you do,” you spit, tone sharper, less controlled. “For one, I didn’t run into a building to save my ex without as much as an explanation. Secondly, I didn’t spend months prior to that trying to woo you, only to go and do point one. And thirdly, I didn’t then fake-die for months—leaving those around us to pick up the confused pieces.”

You have a point.

Even deep down. Under grief, under pain and under anger caused by Fisk. He knows it.

In fact, he rather hates that you have a point and are currently handling it with as much grace as you normally do. Your tone levelled, as much as you can—so not to disturb the few others in the church.

“Did you avoid seeing me because I have nothing to exploit or because you were trying to spare my feelings?”

“Would you believe me if it was the latter?”

You don’t smirk. Your heart doesn’t even jump a beat like it used to.

Instead, he hears you clear your throat. “The FBI is very much on to you.”

“I know.”

“Your putting your friends in an uncomfortable position.”

“But, not you?”

It’s only then do you turn. Your eyes brushing over him. He can feel them. They’re like the sun on a warm day, they always have been.

You lick your lips. “No. I know what I signed up for when I kissed you.”

He wants to reach out. Wants to brush a finger over your cheek, to even pull your head onto his shoulder.

Just for a moment.

To pretend to himself nothing is different, even if everything was far from normal.

“Are you in danger?”

He smirks. “Always.”

“So am I in danger?”

He doesn’t know how to answer. Especially when he knows you already know you are. But you like confirmations. Like facts. Not make-believe.

“Tell me you don’t… didn’t love me.” He turns his head as you shift, heart rate increasing. “Lie, if you have to. I don’t have your particular skills to know if you are.”

Your name falls from his lips in a whisper.

“Just…” you sigh, your well-presented front shattering. “I hate you.”

And you move, practically flee as his hand moves to comfort you. Those three words landing like punches to his already bruised body.

Made that much worse by just hearing you hold your tears back until you reach the exit.

Despising himself.

Because he should have just lied.

Should have said he didn’t love you. He never had.

Instead he whispers, “I still love you.”

To no one.

Mainly for himself.

Because he wishes it was different. Wishes that he had said he hated you too.

Especially because soon enough he’ll learn the worst kind of person is inside your apartment. A person you’d once known, brought back into your life because of him.

Someone who is not a friend, but a foe.

A person who steals Daredevil outfits and pretends to be your friend.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you

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novamariestark · 6 months

Text

Hacked Hearts

Summary: When a series of hacks originate from your laptop, the FBI take you into questioning. Little did you know that this whole ordeal would lead you to the man of your dreams.

Warnings: age gap, kidnapping, mention of handcuffs (not detailed) lmk if i missed any, don't think I have.

Word count: 4095 (This one is longer than I expected)

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Alden Parker x fornell!reader

The way you met wasn’t something you’d want to happen again. The cybercrime investigation had led Parker and Fornell to an unexpected and delicate situation. Hacks originating from a particular IP address had pointed them directly to a dorm room at Georgetown University.

Fornell knocked on the door. Beside him, FBI Agent Alden Parker stood ready, their badges in hand, prepared to reveal their official credentials to the person on the other side of the door.

After a moment, the door swung open, and there you stood, a smile on your face. "Hey, Uncle Toby," you greeted warmly, the smile fading as you notice the badges in their hands, "Who's your friend?"

“Y/N? W-what?”

You raised an eyebrow in response to his reaction. "I live here," you replied, your tone filled with confusion, "What's going on?"

Parker took charge of the situation and spoke with a firm but gentle voice. "We need you to come with us, Y/N," he explained. Your smile fell as you realized your uncle wasn’t there for a social visit, "We also need to confiscate your laptop," he added.

Your expression shifted from confusion to concern, your gaze flickering toward your uncle. Fear and worry etched across your features as you nodded "Okay," you replied, your voice slightly tremulous. "It's on the desk." you gestured toward your friend's desk, where your laptop rested.

Alden nodded, appreciating your cooperation, "Thank you," you stepped aside to let them in. The agent, Parker, you think his ID said, walked over to the desk and picked up your laptop. It was then placed into a see-through bag. An evidence bag. What the hell is going on?

The car ride was quiet. All you could think about was what was going to happen. What is happening. Your fingers danced restlessly in your lap as you gazed out the window, the passing scenery a blur of buildings and people.

As soon as you arrived at the building, Parker escorted you to the interrogation room. He then left for a moment, presumably to talk to your uncle. You took a look around the small, square space as your fingers absentmindedly skated over the smooth metal table. Under the table, your leg was bouncing nervously. Was this because you hadn’t taken the 2 cents back to the coffee shop when they gave you the incorrect change? You had been meaning to take it back, but you hadn’t had the chance.

You jumped when the door suddenly opened, and Parker came back in. You looked behind him, but saw no one. You slumped back into your seat. You supposed it made sense, can’t interrogate family.

So, Parker took the lead. Your uncle stood on the opposite side of the one-way glass, watching on and hoping to God you didn’t have anything to do with this.

You looked at him as he sat across from you, his expression serious as he began his questioning. "Y/N," he started, his voice firm but composed, "we traced a series of hacks back to your IP address. Can you explain this?"

You met Alden's gaze, your eyes showing genuine surprise, "Hacks?" you repeated, a hint of disbelief in your voice. "That doesn't make any sense. I would never..."

The interrogation continued, as Alden delved into the details of your digital footprint and the cyberattacks in question. You answered his questions as best as you could, explaining your activities and the security measures you had taken to protect your laptop. Each piece of evidence that Alden presented seemed to cast a darker shadow over you, intensifying the feeling of entrapment. Your head buried itself in your hands as the situation became increasingly worse for you.

As the questioning continued, your frustration was palpable as you defended your innocence. "I don't understand how my laptop could have been used for these attacks. It's always with me, I have a password, and it's secure, and I've never lent it to any—"

You paused, a sudden realization dawning upon you. "Anyone," you finished, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Your mind raced back to your dorm room. "It was on her desk."

Alden leaned forward, his elbows resting further on the table, "Her desk?" he questioned.

You nodded, your eyes focused on his hazel ones, "My roommate," you started, "I let her borrow it. She asked me a couple of weeks ago if she could use it for a school project. I didn't think much of it at the time."

Alden nodded, his gaze shifting toward the one-way glass. After a moment, he turned his attention back to you, "We need to speak with her. Do you know where she is?"

You quickly checked the time on your watch, then looked back at Alden. "Yeah," you confirmed. "She's in class for the next 9 minutes, and then she's free. You'll most likely find her at the coffee shop around the corner."

"We're going to have to keep you here, Y/N, for the time being," he said, his tone apologetic. "It's a precaution."

You offered a small nod. "It's okay," you replied with a shrug, "You're doing your job."

With that, you settled into the seat. Accepting the idea of being temporarily detained as part of the ongoing investigation, hopeful that they’d be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.

***

As the investigation into the cyberattacks progressed, you were eventually cleared of any involvement, as security footage from the bank and various other places confirmed your presence during the time of the cyberattacks. This evidence had exonerated you.

Their focus shifted to your roommate, Ciara, who had been tipped off about the FBI's interest in you. Now she’s on the run.

Now knowing for sure that you were innocent, they enlisted your help to track her down and counteract her new and current attacks. Each of you play a critical role. Your skills as a computer tech became an invaluable asset in the hunt for your roommate. Alden and your uncle, on the other hand, were busy uncovering who Ciara might have been working for and the motives behind her actions.

As the hours stretched on and the screen before you displayed the ongoing digital battle, your attention remained laser focused. You couldn't afford to look away for even a moment.

At around 2am, Alden brought you some food and coffee. He placed it on the desk beside you, “Thank you,” sending him a quick smile before turning your attention back to the screen.

Suddenly, the barrage of cyberattacks ceased, and you let out a sigh of relief. You leaned back in your chair, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. You looked around and noticed your uncle slumped in his chair, fast asleep, while Agent Parker still pored over old case files. The sound of the pages turning is a constant hum in the background in an otherwise empty office.

Whilst you had a moment to yourself, you take the time to look at Parker. You begin to notice the small things that he does, the way he concentrates on the papers in front of him, furrowing his brow in deep thought. You watch as he sips his coffee, noticing the way he licks his lips after each sip.

His soft grey hair was practically inviting you to run your fingers through it and a dance between an autumn forest, where the warm, earthy browns collided with the vibrant, sunlit greens eyes that made the most beautiful set of hazel eyes that you’d get lost gazing into. Every time he spoke, you found yourself lost in his voice, which was deep and smooth, like butter melting over hot toast.

As the night wore on, he moved over to sit next to you. You talked and got to know each other, sharing stories and laughing at each other's jokes. You found yourself opening up to Alden in a way that you never had with anyone else. Then it happened. Alden leaned in and kissed you.

For a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you and nothing else mattered. It was a kiss so gentle you thought he was afraid of breaking you. Every other kiss you’ve had with a guy was never this gentle or patient. Every guy seemed to be in a rush to shove their tongues down your throat. But then, just as you were about to move to deepen the kiss, Alden pulled away, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened," he said, backing away. "We should get some rest."

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed. All you knew was that it was a good thing the attacks had stopped because right now, all you could think about was the softness of his coffee flavoured lips and the way his darkened moustache tickled your nose.

He left to go home but you opted to stay, to see if you could find a trail your ex-friend/roommate had left. You continued working through the night or what was left of it. It didn’t seem long before people were filing in, practically on auto pilot as all of them headed for the coffee machine in the corner break room that apparently had the “best coffee,”

You had managed to track her down. You thought that since she didn’t have access to your laptop anymore, she’d need to get one somewhere. So, you checked internet café’s and sure enough there she was. She had been smart enough to use cash whilst paying for things but not smart enough to avoid security cameras.

You told your uncle and Parker where she was, and they went to arrest her. When they brought her back to the office for interrogation, you had to fight the urge to go and smack the shit out of her.

You sat back down at your temporary desk, awaiting to hear about her excuse. Soon, Fornell came over, planting himself on the desk with his arms crossed. You looked up at him and smiled.

“You did good kid,” he said, you looked down, smiling at the compliment, “You ever think about joining us?” he asked, you opened your mouth to respond but before the words came out, he continued, “As a computer expert, not in the field, I won’t allow that,”

You rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, “I’m sure I’d do a better job than you, old man,” you retorted playfully.

“Who’s an old man?” came a voice from behind you. You turned to look at Alden and smiled.

“Uncle Toby here says that I should come work with you guys, just not in the field,”

“We’d be lucky to have you,” he smiled back, god that smile is beautiful, what you’d give to see that smile every day.

You nodded towards where the interrogation rooms were, “So, what did she have to say?”

It turned out, your roommate was hired to hack into the FBI to find out details of an upcoming court case. She didn’t know which one they were specifically after, they just told her that she’d “know it when she saw it,”

“So, I can go back to uni now?” you asked, looking between the two of them, “Not that I haven’t enjoyed almost being arrested for cyber crime and then fighting said cyber-crime,” you quickly added when your uncle gave you his best hurt impression, “I just missed a few classes, is all. I suppose you’ll need to keep my laptop for now,”

“You can use mine,” Alden immediately offered. Your head snapped towards him. Alden's immediate offer to use his laptop caught you by surprise. You use his laptop? The one lucky enough to feel his fingertips dance along it? You appreciated the gesture, but it felt like an intrusion on his personal space.

He walked over to his desk, picked up a sleek, plain silver laptop, and extended it towards you, "You sure?"

He smiled, "Well, I trust you will take good care of it,"

"I will, I promise," you said, your tone expressing your gratitude. As you took the laptop from him, your fingers gently grazed his. You looked down, wishing you could just hold that hand in his, but he made his feelings clear last night. You obviously weren’t his type. Sure, he was older than you, but you didn’t care about age. You hadn’t trusted someone so easily before, one day together and you were already telling him things that your best friends don’t even know about.

You looked at your watch, 7:14, “I gotta go,” you announced, hoping to get back quick enough to have a shower before heading to your first class, “I’ll get this back to you as soon as possible,” you told Alden before turning to your uncle. You placed a kiss to his cheek and began heading towards the exit, “See you soon, Uncle T,”

***

Sleep was very inviting, and you thought as soon as you saw your bed, you would be compelled to sleep. That however didn’t happen when you saw the state your room was in.

What the fuck?!

Both mattresses were flung of the frames of the beds. Drawers hung half-open, their contents spilled across the room, evidence of frantic rummaging. Their search for something had left no stone unturned. Desks were turned upside down, their contents scattered haphazardly, and chairs lay toppled on their sides.

You searched for some answers - but little did you know that two men had quietly slipped into the room behind you and were now watching your every move.

Suddenly, the men pounced, easily overpowering you and pushing you up against a wall. You screamed as loud as you could, but it was too late. They grabbed you and tied your hands with rope before covering your mouth with tape. Someone would see this right? They can’t get you off campus without someone noticing. Surely. The men barked orders at you, telling you to shut up and cooperate or else.

Someone did notice. A security guard. He tried to intervene but got shot. You screamed as best you could, but the tape muffled your attempts. The strong odors of musty fabric and stale air filled her nostrils as you looked around the dark space.

After god knows how long of nonstop driving, the van finally stopped and the backdoors flung open. You heard a sharp voice ordering you out. You carefully jumped out, your legs shaking. Before you could even register your surroundings, you felt a strong grip around your arms dragging you away.

You were led to a room, a small room with no windows, no furniture. Nothing but a desk, a chair and a laptop.

Soon, you found out why you’d been taken. A man who you assumed was the leader of the group stepped forward.

“We need you to help us with something, Y/N. You see, your roommate was working for us, and she was helping us hack into the FBI. But then she was arrested. I assume you had something to do with that,” he said, his hand reaching to grab your face to make you look at him, “She said you are top of your class,”

You scoffed and tore your face from his hand. It hurt but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, “I’m not going to do a damn thing for you,”

He chuckled, causing a domino effect as the rest of the group laughed. He the pulled out a knife and pressed it just below your eye, “You think we’re messing?” he then pulled out a picture. A picture of a young girl with ginger hair. You immediately recognised her, “You see, Ciara told us every little detail about you.” He said putting the photo on the desk beside you, “You help us, or,” he paused, only to stab the picture, pinning it to the table. He moved his lips beside your ear, “Or we kill your cousin,”

You nodded, tears flowing down your cheeks as you turn to look at the computer. Your heart was racing as you began to type furiously. You couldn't believe you were actually hacking into the FBI. It was something you never thought you would do in a million years. But you had no other choice. You would do whatever it takes to keep Emily safe.

You felt like you were betraying your uncle by hacking into the agency he worked for. Would he be disappointed? He would, wouldn’t he?

“What happens to me after I do this?”

He chuckled again. He placed his hand on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the side, “I’m afraid we’ll have to kill you,” his hand creeped lower down your back, his touch made your skin crawl, “Shame, beauty and brains. Such a waste,”

You gulped as you continued tapping away on the keys. Once you got in, you started to search for the files that they wanted and download the necessary information. As you navigated through the intricate system, you encountered various firewalls and security, but you managed to bypass them all. After hours of searching, you finally found what they were after and quickly extracted it from the system. You knew its was no use, they wouldn’t get there in time, but you left clues along the way for the FBI computer experts to pick up and your uncle especially. You purposely used the wrong password few times, knowing it would show up on their system what was inputted. Diane and Emily’s birthday. To the men in the room with you, it’d look like random numbers, but to your uncle, you hoped he’d notice.

While you were at it, you disabled the security they had on the laptop that was bouncing the signal around the world, so instead they knew exactly where to look. You expect to be dead by the time they got there though. But maybe, just maybe, your last action was to take them down.

The leader went over to the printer, grabbing the information you had just stolen. He read through it, then looked up to his men and nodded to the door. They left the room, leaving you and the leader alone.

“I’ll make it quick and painless,” he smiled. He then grabbed his gun and pointed it at you. You closed your eyes and started counting to yourself. Then, there were sudden gunshots from the next room. Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt relief wash over you. You heard footsteps, voices, and the sound of a door opening, but you didn’t dare open your eyes.

You felt yourself being yanked up from your seat by his strong grip on your hair. He quickly placed you in front of him as a shield, pressing the cold metal barrel of his gun against your temple. Your breathing was heavy, and your heart was pounding against your chest, beating uncontrollably in fear.

You opened your eyes to see your uncle and Parker stood in front of you, their weapons pointed at the man.

Your uncle’s voice cracked as he sternly spoke, "We won't hesitate to fire if you don't surrender."

“You can’t kill me without killing her!” he yelled. “You’ll miss!” you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling as though your fate was sealed.

Then it came, the sound of a gunshot. You let out a scream and waited for the pain, but it never came. You opened your eyes to see the man on the ground, a bullet hole in his head and blood pooling around him.

You immediately ran across the dark room and into the arms of your uncle. He enveloped you with a tight hug and began stroking your hair. “Shh, you're okay,” he said, his hand gently stroking your hair. You cried into his chest and listened to his soothing words.

He led you outside, taking you to the ambulance to get checked out, ignoring your protests. You were still trembling as you stepped outside, the cold breeze dancing along your sweat painted skin.

Your uncle left you with a paramedic to call Emily and let her know you were okay.

"How are you feeling?" a voice suddenly asked. You jumped and quickly looked in that direction. Parker mentally slapped himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,”

You smiled faintly, “It’s okay,” you closed your eyes. “It's been a crazy day,” you said, your voice soft and fragile. “But I'm glad to be alive. I don't know what I would have done without you here.”

He gently squeezed your hand, and tears began to run down your face. “It's alright,” he said, bringing you into a hug. Your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around you and at that point you knew you were safe.

It’s just a friendly hug, you told yourself. You wished it was more, but you knew it was unlikely to happen. But then he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You lifted your head from his chest to look up at him, only to find him already looking at you. He looked down into your eyes once more and moved in closer, until your lips were almost touching. Your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours. You saw him hesitate, not letting his lips fully touch yours. You don’t know where your surge of confidence came from but your hand moved to interlock around his neck as you closed the gap between you. Everything else faded away.

You felt as though you were floating, every anxiety and worry evaporating from your body with this one kiss.

His fingers traced the paths those tears had taken, tears that glistened like crystal drops on your skin. You leaned into his touch, your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat a steady, reassuring rhythm beneath your ear. His arms encircled you, providing a sense of security that had been sorely lacking.

The sound of your uncle's voice shattered the fragile bubble of your moment together, "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a mixture of surprise and discomfort in his tone as he approached the two of you.

Your heart raced as you reluctantly disentangled yourself from Alden's embrace. You met your uncle's gaze, struggling to find the right words to explain, but none came willingly.

You cast a quick glance at Alden, trying to read his expression. His eyes held a mixture of concern and something more profound, but it was difficult to figure out his true feelings. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, if the sparks that had ignited between you reflected a mutual attraction, or if it had been heat of the moment.

Needless to say, the attraction was mutual. He took you everywhere and anywhere. But you didn’t care as long as he was there. You loved how he would go out of his way finding new pastries for you to try and the childlike smile he has on his face as he awaits your reaction. You love how he plays piano. Sometimes he plays a soothing melody to help you relax after a long day and other times, you’ll wake up to a gentle melody, dancing through the air from the other room. Every day he’d do a million small things for you, no matter what, and it made you fall for him.

Now six months into your relationship, much to your uncle’s dissatisfaction, and you still couldn’t believe that all it took to find the man of your dreams was to be accused of cybercrime. Sometimes you’d joke that if he ever got bored of you then you’d know how to get his attention back. He never finds this funny but this time you replied with something that shocked both of you.

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about putting them handcuffs on me,” you whisper into his ear before placing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Alden raised his eyebrows and looks at you, “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you,” he laughed, no way his sweet innocent girlfriend just said that to him. Sure, you two have slept together but you had never been kinky.

“I’ve thought about it,” you said, your fingers unbuttoning his shirt as your lips attached themselves to his neck. Soon your actions were stopped, and Alden took over. Before you knew it, you were handcuffed to the bed and about to get the best sex you’ve ever had in your entire life.

[A/N] Been working on this for over a week. I wasn't going to post it because I don't feel too confident about it but I just thought post it anyway

#reader insert #female reader #alden parker #alden parker imagine #alden parker x reader #ncis x reader

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wonderinglostsoul · 6 months

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Criminal Minds Fanfiction Chapter 8

Long chapter ahead !

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You are an FBI agent with a past and you were about to enter the BAU.

Trigger warning: BAU stuff like killing, snipping, torture, hazing, suicide

Master List:

You arrived at the meeting room at Quantico. Hotch changes to his tie and suit. He leaves Jack to his aunt. The rest of the team also changes to their normal office outfit.

Hotch started the briefing by showing the pictures of the victims. They were 4 men on various age range. All of them has bruises on there face. They were found on a vacant lots which are mostly the dumpsite of the body.

"What is the cause of death?" JJ asked.

"Renal failure" Hotch answered.

"They were beaten to death?" Reid asked

"Yes. The beatings caused for there kidney to fail." Hotch detailed.

"There are multiple unsub on this." You suggested.

"How so?" Hotch squared his shoulder and folded his arms. He was trying to contest your suggestion. It was rare to identify this information at the early state of the investigation.

"Because of the bruises on the face." You said standing up. You pointed out on one of the victim with bruises on the left cheeks. You circled it out with your hand and explained. "All of the heavy punches are on the left side of this victim. On mirror image this is my right side, so the assailant should be a right handed. But this" You pointed on another victim. "This is on the right side so the assailant is a left handed."

"But the unsub can use both of there hand to punch the victim." Morgan said.

"Yes, but they are mostly using their dominant hand. Wait," You said looking for a way to explain it. The only way you can think of is to demonstrate and Hotch is the only person near you.

"Excuse me sir. " you said holding both of his shoulder to face you. He let go of his folded hand. When he was facing you, you jab your right hand but you make sure that Hotch was not hit. "The impact of the punch will be heavy on the dominant side

"They can use there left hand but the impact is lesser than the one on the right so bruising was lighter." You said. You switch side again trying to hit the left side of hotch face with your right hand.

"The unsub can use his dominant hand to hit the other side of the victim face." You swing your right hand but you were not able to control it so you brushed Hotches face.

"Oh god!" You exclaimed, retracting your hand as soon as you felt Hotch's skin. You mumble your apologies while trying to soothe his face by touching it. Hotch said it was fine and he was not hurt but you are so concerned until you both realized that everyone was watching. You both glance at your audience. JJ and Penelope was trying to hide their laugh. Reid was curious. Morgan and Rossi has an ear to ear smile. You retracted your hand immediately and said.

"Well, you understand what I meant" and hurriedly back to your sit.

"Alright" Hotch said clearing his throat "we need to check more details on this when we arrived at the location. Wheels up in 30." Hotch wrap up the meeting and left. He tried not to look embarrass.

Penelope and JJ started to tease you. You were asking them to stop but they wont. They only did when suddenly Hotch went back to the room and ask Garcia to give him the case file.

You, JJ, Reid and Morgan went to the plane first. Rossi stay behind, waiting for Hotch. After a few minutes Hotch arrived and they both walked to the elevator. While waiting. Rossi asked Hotch.

"Hotch, what do you think of [Y/N]?" Hotch was puzzled with the question but still answered it.

"She is actually quite good with analyzing forensic evidence. She learns easily but pretty much stubborn" Hotch said, with a little bit of a joke. Rossi gave a quiet laugh while nodding. The elevator dings and opened. Both gentleman went in. During the ride Rossi asked Hotch a follow up question.

"How about personally?" He paused then added. "What do you think of her as a woman?"

Hotch knows what Rossi meant with his question. But he cannot grasp the idea of dating a colleague.

"I dont know. I dont want to think about it." Hotch answered. The elevator dings again and they were at the lower level.

"Is that why you waited for everyone to go first to the plane?" Rossi added, Hotch inhaled deeply. "Are you not ready yet or are you just stopping yourself to feel again and be happy." Rossi asked. Hotch did not answer for a while. Rossi thinks he hit a nerve so before they embarked on the plane he called Hotch again.

"Hotch, I am sorry, I dont want to meddle..." He continued but Hotch suddenly turned around to face him. He was surprised and stopped talking.

"I have so many things to consider, Dave. Not just me. There is Jack, there is my job and I dont want to jeopardize any of those for now." Hotch said, with a little pain in his eyes. Rossi nod, and said I understand. He went closer to Hotch and squeeze his shoulder in sympathy and then go on to embark the plane. Hotch followed behind.

As the plane flew to there next location, Hotch continue with the discussion of the case. Since the victims has different age range, different race, different social status, establishing the victimology is hard at the moment. So Hotch asked Reid and Rossi to go to the colonel and check the bodies for clue. Then he asked you and Morgan to interview the family of the victim. You were surprised by this, since the last time you are still under probation.

"Me?" You asked surprised. Hotch narrowed his eyes and answered "Yes, you"

"Really? I am not under probation anymore?" You cannot believe it.

"Why do you still want to be strapped by my side?" Hotch asked, one eyebrow raised and sounded a little bit irritated. The rest of the team catch it as well.

"No." You said seriously. " Thank you for your trust sir." You added. You see his eye rolled.

"JJ, come with me at the station" Hotch said and then he stands up to go back to his sit. Everyone disperse and went back to there sit as well. You were puzzled why there is a change in his behaviour all of a sudden. Your face cannot hide the frustration.

"Dont worry too much of Hotch, he is like that sometimes" Reid told you in a low voice.

"Sure. " You nod and get your case file.

When you arrived, you joined Morgan to talked to the victims family. They all say that the victims does not know each other and that they do not have enemies that wanted them dead. So no leads on that. However, the latest victim's brother told you that someone was recruiting his brother to join a group. Unfortunately, he does not know the name of the group.

All of you went back to the station to consolidate the information that you've got. Morgan mention the organization.

"This could be an initiation rights." Morgan said. "You know when you want to participate on a fraternity or a sorority they do this kind of stuff like paddling there members."

"Hazing?" JJ said. "There is an anti hazing law here and it is punishable by law."

"Thats right. But some old organization has tradition that they cannot simply let go. So most likely there were founding members at the top of these organization."

Hotch said. All of you nodded in agreement. "We're ready to give the profile"

You all gather the officer of the police station. When everyone is present, Hotch started to give the profile.

"There are multiple unsub on this killings. We think that they are part of an organization that was doing an initiation rights."

"Hazing?" One of the officer asked.

"Yes, hazing. They were punching, paddling, hitting the victims with a specific number of times based on there tradition. Since the hazing law was passed, we are looking for an organization that was establish before the anti hazing law was created. We should also look for those that still has there founding members as there official." Morgan added.

"If you can provide us with the list of groups, fraternities in the area then we can have a look at them. We are hoping for your cooperation. Thank you!" JJ ended the conference. You were studying the attendees and see the animosity when Hotch said that the killings can be part of an initiation rights.

"Hotch!" You called out to him.

"What?" He said, you hear a hint of irritation on his voice but you just let it pass. You move a little closer to him and whisper.

"I noticed something, can we talked in private." You said in a low voice. Hotch called out everyone to have lunch. When everyone was outside, Hotch gathered the group.

"What is it [Y/N]" He asked you.

"I noticed that some of the police officer changes there expression when they hear that this crime must be related to initiation rights." You told them.

"I noticed that too. Especially with the police chief" Reid said. "Could they know something?"

"They might be a member of the said organizations themselves. I mean fraternities would mostly include those in the community." Rossi added. Morgan dialed Garcia's number.

"Baby girl, can you find out if anyone in the local PD has any ties with any fraternities?"

"Oh hi my big chocolate knight. You did not even let me speak. But you are my love so sure! I'll send you a list in a bit. Ciao!" Garcia said without pausing.

"Lets grab something to eat. And be careful everyone. Make sure you do all your task together." Hotch warned. "Especially you, Agent [Y/N]. Dont go running around alone."

"Yes Sir!" You answered him.

While eating, Garcia sent you all the list of officers that was a member of fraternities. There were alot but most of the organizations are from another town. The chief of police was a member in one of the fraternities.

"I think we need to talk with the chief about this" Morgan suggested. You all went back to the police station. Morgan asked where the chief is and one of the officer said that he have left with 3 other officer. Rossi asked if they are aware that the chief was a member of a fraternity. The police officer hesitated and looked around. He said yes and the other 3 police officer was a member as well.

Hotch talked to Garcia to look for the headquarters of the fraternity and he said there is a Frat house near the house of the chief. Hotch knows that the rest of the police officer there might not cooperate because this involves there comrades so he called a swat team to assist. Also, he asked Morgan to still brief the police and asked for back up. They can see the hesitation on some of them but they still follow.

Morgan, Reid and JJ went to the Chief's house. While you, Hotch and Rossi went to the frat house. The three of you went to the door. You bang the door and shouted "FBI! Open up" No one answered. The three of you unholstered your gun, Hotch positioned himself in front of the door and break it down. When you enter the house, no one was inside. Hotch asked you and Rossi to check upstairs while he checks the ground floor.

You and Rossi swept the rooms. There were bunk beds in most of the room except for one. It looks like the chiefs room. There are alot of documents related to the members. Rossi checks it and saw some of the victims. He ask you to tell Hotch what you discovered so you hurried down. You saw Hotch in the Kitchen looking at the floor.

"Hotch!" You called but he hushed you. Slowly you, you went on his side and look at the floor as well. There is a trap door. Both of you look at each other. Hotch was about to open it when you hear gunshot. Hotch opened it up and went down holding his gun. You followed him. As you descend you saw the police chief. He was holding his gun. Infront of him is the lifeless body of his 3 men. He turn around to look at both of you.

"Chief, put the gun down" Hotch told him.

"I know how this ends" he said. "You'll arrest me, put me in jail and if the prisoners knows that I am a cop they will make my life a living hell."

"Then why did you do it why did you kill all this people" you asked.

"It was an accident! They were not strong enough to be part of this organization" he answered angrily

"You know that hazing was prohibited now why did you still do it" You continue to ask.

"Because its tradition! We have been doing this since we started this brotherhood. No one died but this three idiots took it too far!" He shouted. Pointing his gun to the three lifeless body behind him. "They were my responsibility. I was supposed to look after them but I failed" he continue saying with sadness in his eyes.

"Put the gun down." Hotch said all of a sudden

"I failed my brothers. " he started crying now. "I failed this brotherhood." Then all of a sudden he raised the gun. Put it in his temple and fire. Rossi run down the basement with the rest of the team who just arrived. Hotch put down his gun and went back upstair. You all followed him. When you arrive at the ground floor, the forensic team is already inside.

At the plane home you were thinking about confronting Hotch. Why he is such a jerk to you lately. The sudden change of mood from Jack's birthday party to the plane ride going to the crime scene and then every time that you were talking to him alone his mood was different.

You saw Rossi standing up going to the pantry. You know that he will get a scotch for him and Hotch so you followed him.

"Rossi?" You called him in a low voice.

"Hmmm?" He responded while he pour the scotch.

"Do you mind if I bring the scotch to Hotch?" You asked him. He looked at you and smiled.

"Of course not." He handed you the two glasses. "One is yours." You know he's teasing you. You walked down the airplane aisle. Hotch's back was turned on you. You took a sip of the scotch and continue. He was working on the case file when you handed him the drink,

"Thanks Da -" He was about to say but when he glanced up he saw you. "Oh!" He exclaimed while accepting the glass. He knows that you wanted to talk so he put the case file aside. You sit in front of him. You drink the rest of the scotch then set it aside. You put on your fierce face and look at him directly in the eye. Hotch did not budge as well. His face was serious too. You lean forward resting your elbow on the table, intertwining your fingers together. You rest your chin on your intertwine fingers and ask Hotch.

"Is there a problem between the two of us, Hotch?" You asked seriously. "It seems that you are upset of me and I dont know why." You added.

You are waiting for an answer so you looked at him directly in the eye. But he just stares at you back. All of a sudden, you saw his face suddenly changes. His eyes softened. You can see that there was longing in it as it stares at you. You were taken aback. You retrieve your hands. Your serious, fierce faces is now puzzled.

"I'm sorry. Its just, there are so many things happening lately." He said. "At one point, it was Jack's birthday and then all of a sudden I am on a plane for a 3 hour ride to another state. I cannot even finish one day without leaving him." He added.

"But you still cant stop?" You asked. He nod, smiling at the foolishness of the thought.

"I am so attached to this job that I let go of my wife and have her killed and now I abandoned my son on his birthday." He said.

"Its not your fault, what happened to your wife. It was the unsub's fault not yours. He is a coward who does not know how to stop you so he uses the people that you love. He is a coward." You told him, trying to comfort him. "And Jack? He understand. He is a smart boy, Aaron. He knows that you fight the bad guys for him. He understand."

Aaron smiled.

"Thank you! And thank you for the scotch" He said raising his glass. He took a sip. "And I'm sorry if I let out my emotion to you." He added sheepishly.

"Just talk to me first, may be bent out so your not being a jerk to me or anyone else ok?" You teases him. He chuckled and nod.

"I surely do." He said with a hint of smile in his tired eyes.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #jj jareau #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #hotch x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch

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skelavender · 3 months

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Mulder’s eyes are locked on Scully. Living, breathing Scully, who is not in a hospital bed. Instead, Modell is the one who lay dying in front of them, head bandaged and tubes pumping oxygen and whatever else into his body. He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own. She doesn’t grab him back, but allows for the touch. “I say we dont let him take up another minute of our time.” Scully squeezes his hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go home.”

read chapter two of shelter on ao3, or below the cut!

February 1996

“Mine or yours?“

Mulder looks up to see Scully lingering by the door with her long jacket folded over her arm, clearly on her way out.

“Mine,” he answers simply, “I’ll head out soon, I want to finish reading this first. I should be back by the time you get there if you’re stopping at home first. You have your key?”

“Yes. See you soon, Mulder.” She offers a smile, and she’s gone.

It’s become a habit, staying at each other’s houses. They’re both sleeping much better, and are therefore less likely to take mid-workday naps.

After Scully had shown up in the middle of the night, Mulder had invested in a bed. Crazy concept. If Scully was going to keep showing up to sleep – which, apparently, she was – he wasn’t going to make her do so on the floor or couch.

She does beat him to his place, despite stopping by her own apartment to shower first, and when Mulder enters he is greeted by the smell of vanilla — the body scrub Scully uses at the end of a particularly long week. Given the case they’re in the middle of, he thinks it’s warranted.

Between the disaster of Modell’s arraignment, Holly attacking Skinner, and the deaths of multiple law enforcement officers, things had been stressful to say the least. Mulder was happy to be guaranteed a solid night’s sleep tonight, thanks to Scully’s company.

He knows Scully needs both the proximity and the rest just as much as he does. When they had been informed that Modell had pulled Mulder’s file, she had immediately been most concerned about him having Mulder’s address. He could basically see the images flashing in her mind, Modell invading his home like Eugene Tooms and Duane Barry had through hers. She wasn’t going to leave him alone right now, and he didn’t exactly cherish the idea either. There was no point in avoiding the apartment, though. If Modell wanted to find them, he would.

Scully’s in the kitchen, pajama-clad and leaning over a steaming pizza. She turns to greet him with a soft smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, “If that’s from Caprotti’s, I might have to marry you. Again.”

“You better dig your tux out then.”

Mulder slides his hand onto her lower back when he approaches her, “God, you’re the best.” He lays a kiss on her temple before grabbing a slice.

They eat over the counter, chatting idly around the real concerns for their safety. Eventually they crawl into bed, Mulder on the right, Scully on the left, as always. They fall asleep with hands clasped in the space between their bodies, holding on for dear life.

***

Here’s what the gossip mill of the FBI, with all their teasing names and idolization of profiling skills, doesn’t know about Fox Mulder: he’s a fucking klutz.

Even Scully didn’t notice it until she started spending significant time at either of their homes with him. He takes his contact lenses out as soon as he gets home, but only remembers to put his glasses on to compensate for the fact half the time. The result is many bruises blooming on limbs that have bumped into furniture, door frames, hell, even Scully had acted as an accidental obstacle on more than a couple occasions.

At the moment, the both of them sitting against the headboard of Scully’s bed as they wind down for bed, Mulder has miraculously managed to get a pair of glasses on his face. However, the pair he’s squinting through while trying to read the book propped against his knees aren’t his own.

They’re Scully’s.

Her backup pair, that is. The ones from a couple years ago, which are out of style and the prescription is slightly too weak. That means, of course, that they are far too weak for Mulder. Hence the squinting. She doubts that he’s even managing to read any words on the page. Not that Scully's any more focused – she keeps glancing up to the mirror across from her bed to look at Mulder, to take in his relaxed posture, the furrow between his brows, the press of his lips together.

She doesn’t know how they got so… domesticated, so comfortable in each other’s presence that they can just borrow each other’s stuff with such ease. She loves it.

Her eyes run down the reflection of Mulder’s neck, his arms, how his fingers are curled around the book. As if he can feel her gaze dance across his skin, he squirms, revealing a patch of skin just below his elbow. A very purple patch of skin.

She turns to him, “Did you bump into the doorframe again?”

“Hm?” Mulder tears his eyes off the book and looks at her through her own glasses.

“Your arm,” She gestures to him, “Did you hit it on the doorframe again?”

“Oh,” he twists his arm and looks down at it. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Let me see.” She places the bookmark on the relevant page and sets it on her nightstand before opening her hand to summon Mulder’s elbow. He offers it, and she inspects the skin.

“I don’t know how you manage to do this to yourself so often,” Scully murmurs.

“I swear, Scully, they move. We ought to open an X-file on the ever-changing layout of doorways in the DC area.”

She shakes her head with an affectionate smile, and pivots to rustle through her nightstand drawer. She removes a tube of arnica she had started keeping there for this exact reason, and reclaims Mulder’s elbow.

“Scully, it’s fine, really.” He protests, but doesn’t reclaim possession of his elbow.

“Which one of us has a medical degree, Mulder? Let me help.” She squirts an appropriate amount of gel onto her own index and middle fingers, rubs them against her thumb to decrease the sting of the cold, and applies it to Mulder’s arm. She lets her fingers dance in circles across his skin until the stickiness has faded, and she can’t justify the contact any further.

When her eyes lift to reach his again, he’s already staring at her. “Thanks, Scully.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

“About time for lights-out?”

“That sounds good.”

They both turn off their bedside lamps, and settle into the bed. Within minutes they’ve met in the middle of the bed, and Scully doesn’t bother trying to find an excuse to touch him.

***

He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own. She doesn’t grab him back, but allows for the touch.

“I say we dont let him take up another minute of our time.” Scully squeezes his hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go home.”

Over the years, they’ve started referring to just about anywhere as home. “Mulder, let’s go home” could mean a motel room, DC, his place, her place, the office, anything. He’s not sure which home she means, but he knows wherever they end up, home will be an apt descriptor. As long as Scully is there.

Scully all but pulls him out of the hospital room, leading him by the contact of their hands. They walk all the way to the car with their hands linked, and don’t let go until they need to.

Home, as Scully had used it, turns out to be his apartment. Mulder lays awake with his partner in his arms, mind racing.

He had almost killed her. There was a bullet in the chamber and his finger on the trigger, and he had almost killed Scully. His partner. His wife.

There would have been no going back from that.

He thinks it must have been intentional, Modell must have put the bullet in the third chamber knowing he would make Mulder turn it on Scully, shoot her, kill her. He wanted to do as much damage to Mulder as he could on his way out, and knew exactly how to do it. Mulder would never be able to live with that guilt. He would, and did, sooner point the gun at his own head than Scully’s.

Instead, Modell would be the one spending the rest of his life in a hospital bed with a bullet in his head, the one meant for Scully.

He hadn’t hesitated when Modell told him to turn the gun on himself, but the potential of losing Scully, the potential of being the one responsible for ripping her from this world, had made him strong enough to resist. That, and Scully’s encouragement, her unwavering faith that he would be able to shake Modell’s influence.

There hadn’t been any doubt, per se, in his mind that he loved her before this whole ordeal. But such a close brush with death, just those few minutes of sharp, intense fear of having to live in a world without her… it was some of the worst pain he’d been in. Some of the worst grief. The same, bone-deep and all-consuming pain that Samantha’s absence had brought. To have such a large, gaping hole inside him, nowhere for the love to land. It’s a very different type of relationship, yes, but the grief tastes the same.

Mulder’s fingers dance across Scully’s hair and he lets the repeated motion, along with her consistent breathing, soothe him. She’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s in his arms. He can see that she’s safe, feel her breath against his shirt, press his palm to her back and let it rise and fall with her. He just can’t get the what-ifs out of his head.

He shudders, and holds his partner tighter. Unconscious, she does the same.

***

When Mulder wakes a couple days later, Scully is already awake with her head on his chest, eyes open and staring off into space. His face is buried in her hair, and he presses a kiss there to let her know he’s awake.

“Hey,” Her voice is floaty, absent. Like she’s thought so hard it’s brought her into another world.

“Hey.” He lets the silence stretch for a moment. “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Scully bites her lip, hesitant to tell him about the idea she’s been rolling over in her mind, the one she’s been trying and failing to talk herself out of. “I’m not sure this is… sustainable.”

Mulder tenses under her. He is so, so not ready to have a potential divorce conversation. “You mean our, uh…”

“What?” She lifts up on her elbow to look at him, and reads his face plain and clear. “Oh, no, Mulder, not like that. I mean staying over every night, alternating apartments.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll, uh, get out of your hair–” He shifts to slip out from under her and get out of bed, but she stops him with a hand to his arm.

“Not like that.” They settle back into their spots, Scully’s head on Mulder’s chest. Her voice is shaky when she confesses, “I sleep better with you closeby, and I think you do too. I want to continue that, I just…” She takes a deep breath and takes the plunge, “What do you think about moving in together?”

“Oh.” Mulder’s a bit floored by that. This conversation was going in the complete opposite of the direction he was expecting. The silence stretches for a moment while he considers it.

“What’re you thinking, Mulder?”

“Well we could save a lot of money on rent if we moved into a two bedroom.”

“And on phone bills.” Scully reasons.

“And we could carpool – save on gas.”

“Mhmm,” Scully affirms. They’re both quiet for a moment, mulling it over, before she continues, “So, mine or yours? Or somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else, I think. Something fresh. Are you married to Georgetown?”

“I’m married to you.”

He smiles at that. He’s not looking at her, so he doesn't see the open wound of sincerity in her eyes.

Scully continues, “Alexandria is fine. It’s cheaper. We’re being… pragmatic.”

“Pragmatic… yeah.”

“Reasonable.”

“Mhmm.”

“So,” she lifts her head to look at him again, “Do you want to get the paper to look through the listings, or should I?”

<- previous chapter next chapter ->

#LTW: shelter #LTWrites #the x files #fics #fall into place series #.txt

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emberfrostlovesloki · 4 months

Text

Not Your Girl [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left and Right (@sugarcoatedvein) Center (@lilacprentiss)

Prompt: When the Non-BAU!reader has something big to tell Emily, they pick the worst way to tell her.

Pairing: Emily x nonbinary!reader. The reader is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns for most of the story.

Category: fluff/comfort

Word Count: 2.9K

Content Warnings: Mentions of bad gym culture, mention of fitness and exercise, a slightly fatphobic comment [directed at Penelope by a gym bro], breakups, light drinking, and swearing. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Just some fluffy reader coming out to Emily as nonbinary and them reflecting about the course of their relationship. This is another @imagining-in-the-margins post based on the fabulous January and February writing challenge. This one is from her dialog prompts: “I love every iteration of you.” I just know Emily would support you no matter what. I am glad this isn’t a novel. I love my longer work, but this was a nice change. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you do enjoy this, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great end of your week. Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/d/h_ = your dominant hand

_y/j_ = your job

_y/f/s_ = your favorite show

“Emily, I don’t think I can be your girl anymore.” The look on Prentiss’s face told _y/n_ instantly that they’d phrased that wrong. With Emily being such a chronic overthinker, it was a poor choice of phrase. _y/n_ saw the look of insecurity and maybe sadness play out on Em’s face, and before _y/n_ could say anything, Prentiss asked, “Are you breaking up with me, _y/n? I thought we were doing good/” _y/n_ shook their head no rapidly and said, “Em. I’m not saying that at all, just let me explain.” Em sat back in her kitchen chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and said, “Please do,” _y/n_ took a deep breath. They knew Emily loved them. Had loved them for nearly a year, and the reactions _y/n_ was getting made sense given Emily’s past of being dumped just when a relationship seemed to be working out. However, the defensive wall _y/n_’s partner had so easily thrown up after months of breaking them down now had _y/n_ concerned. What if Emily wouldn’t love them like this? Emily’s hyper-focus on details and consistency was rubbing off on _y/n_and made them question whether or not to share the truth. But in a second, their whole relationship up till that point flashed before _y/n_’s eyes. It had started in the gym.

It was all thanks to Penelope, who had made a New Year's resolution to move more. Nothing more than that. No weight loss goals, no need for a summer body, just a desire to move because it felt good. Emily was happy to help Garcia out because she had made a bet with Derek in October about the upcoming FBI fitness test in March. Prentiss had overheard Morgan telling another male agent, who was overconfident and under-muscled for the claims he was making, that he was going to beat all of his personal bests in the fitness test. Emily scoffed and said, “Really Derek. You say that every year.” Morgan looked over to Em and replied with a teasing tone, “And I mean it every year. You wanna make a bet on it?” Prentiss knew this was all in good fun, and said, “You’re on. What are the terms?” Derek steepled his hands and replied, “If I don’t get personal best’s next exam, then you can set me up on a blind date. But, the same goes for you. You’ve got to beat all of your personal records, and if you don’t, then I set you up on a blind date.” Emily smiled because this was the exact kind of shenanigans they got into when she was more relaxed between cases. It gave both her and Morgan something to think about outside of work. Prentiss stuck out her, and Derek took it while saying, “You’re on.” So, when Penelope talked about wanting to move more, Emily recommended the Zumba class she took on Saturday evenings. Penelope was hesitant at first, but when Em described it as “angry dancing,” Garcia got on board quickly.

Emily hadn’t believed in Zumba either, that was until her pilates class got canceled one day. Zumba was the only class on offer and despite her hesitations, Prentiss went. Prentiss was so happy that she did because the class turned out to be very relaxing and a good workout at the same time. It didn’t hurt that the person next to her was very cute in their _y/f/c_ crop top and long socks. Prentiss started coming back to Zumba more and more, and the young woman was always there just vibing with the music no matter what was going on. Their positivity was infectious. When Penelope joined the class for a session a week later, Emily and the tech genius had a great time. So good a time that they agreed to go to drinks after because what was the point of working out if you couldn’t have some fun as a reward? As the duo passed by the weight room, one of the gym bros waiting for a squat rack to open up looked over at Emily and said, “Hey babe, wanna come over here and spot me? And maybe you should tell Blondie to come back sometime. She might fit in here.” Emily was so mad that the man had commented about her friend, who was happy and healthy, that she just froze. The man laughed at Penelope’s hurt face, but a voice from behind Emily and Garcia wiped the smile off his face real quick as _y/n_ said, “Hey, asshole. Let me tell you something. Muscles don’t fucking mean anything if there’s not a heart underneath all of them. So keep pumping iron, but consider getting a brain and some self-awareness before commenting on someone you don’t know and is a hell of a lot braver than you because she showed up despite having to deal with dickheads like you.” At _y/n_’s comments, both Emily and Penelope looked at _y/n_ with wide, impressed eyes. Emily knew _y/n_ immediately. It was the woman she had been secretly admiring for a month now. The woman’s beauty was amplified as she demonstrated not only energy, but didn't tolerate bad behavior, and standing up for someone she didn’t know. When the guy at the rack moved toward them, particularly toward _y/n_ with a frown on his face. Emily stepped in front of _y/n_ and said with all the authority of an FBI profiler, “Sit down.” The man hesitated. Finally, he moved back to where he was with his head down, muttering under his breath.

While Em was using her scary dog privileges, _y/n_ pulled Penelope toward the stairs saying, “Don’t listen to that douch bag. You were great in class.” Garcia smiled and said, “Thanks. That was nice of you to say. I’m Penelope Garcia, by the way.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I’m _y/n_, _l/n_. Nice to meet you, Penelope.” As they started talking, Emily joined them, and Garcia introduced _y/n_ to Prentiss. Pen asked _y/n_ if she wanted to join them for drinks. _y/n_ who hadn’t made many friends since moving to D.C., agreed. As _y/n_ and changed in the dressing room, _y/n_ couldn’t help but look at Emily and admire her strength. _y/n_ had been looking at Emily since she’d joined the class. Unfortunately, _y/n_ was terrible with flirting and asking people out, so the admiration had been one-sided. At least she thought it had been. At the bar, the trio’s conversation was natural and easy. More than that, Penelope could see how Emily was looking at and talking to _y/n_ like she was the most important thing there. When _y/n_ had gone to the restroom, Garcia had said, “Emily if you don’t ask her out at the end of this get-together, I’m going to scream.” Prentiss retorted, “Pen, I just know her from the gym and this meeting. Don’t you think that’s moving a little fast?” Garcia smiled, now knowing for sure that Emily liked _y/n_. The tech replied, “Emily's life is short, if she says no, then you can move your pining elsewhere.” Garcia took a long sip of her Cosmo before adding on, “ By the way _y/n_ was giving you the same big doe eyes you were giving her, so…” And that was how _y/n_ had been asked out on a date by Emily.

The first date was at a local farmers market. _y/n_ and Emily strolled the stalls, got lemonade, and sat in the shade as a local band played in the background. They talked about their hobbies and dating preferences. That was there _y/n_ had learned that Em was mostly dating women at this point in her life. And Prentiss had learned that _y/n_ was new to dating women. They’d said, “I’m just trying to figure everything out. I hope that doesn’t sound dismissive. I just want to be honest, when it comes to dating, sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing, But if you’re willing to put up with me, I’d enjoy figuring it out with you.” Emily had agreed, and they went on a second and third date. Over time _y/n_ learned about the team and why Emily could be so serious sometimes and more relaxed when she was not on a case.

One night at _y/n_’s house, while cooking dinner, _y/n_ admitted, “You know, I didn’t realize that dating and being interested in women was an option until way later in my life. I feel like I spent years looking for the perfect person and love at first sight, but I wasn’t ever looking in the right place.” Em nodded as she stirred the pasta in with the sauce; she replied, “I get it. Being sheltered does things to you that other people might not understand. It was such a relief to me when I figured out I could just like both. And it was more of a relief when I realized that dating doesn’t have to end in disappointment.” _y/n_ wrapped their arms around Emily’s waist and kissed the agent’s neck saying, “I’m happy too, Emily.” _y/n_ had heard Prentiss lightly reference her hesitation about dating a few times, and _y/n_ wondered if there was more to the story. _y/n_ felt that it was far enough in their relationship and asked, “Em, would you tell me what happened? Why you were so averse to dating when we met?” Prentiss turned to _y/n_ and sighed before saying, “I guess I owe you an explanation about why I seemed too hot and cold and the beginning there.” Em turned off the heat on the stove and led _y/n_ to the table. Once they sat across from each other, Emily said, “I was in a committed relationship for a year last year. I thought everything was perfect. The girl, my life, work. I thought I’d finally figured it out. I was going to propose. And then a case happened. A bad one. I got hurt. I called my then-partner, and she was hysterical. I tried to make her feel better, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She was so attached that the idea of me being hurt, of me dying on the job pushed her away. When I got home, she was gone. She took all of her stuff. It was like she never existed. I tried to call her, but she never responded. And the thing is, I get it. Anything could happen. Not everyone can deal with those odds. I don’t blame her.” _y/n_ listened and felt sorry for Emily to have been abandoned like that. _y/n_ said, “You might have understood her reasoning, but she might have told you goodbye or explained. I’m sorry you went through that, Em. Just letting you know, I don’t plan on going anywhere.” Prentiss smiled and said, “Thanks _y/n_. Do you mean that even if I can’t cook?” _y/n_ tipped her head to the side and Emily, who was facing the stove said, “Because I turned off the wrong burner and that pasta is definitely burning.” Just as _y/n_ looked back at the smoking pan on the stove, the fire alarm went off. After _y/n_ and Emily handled the situation with the crispy food, they both laughed long and hard. Em took _y/n_ out to dinner instead, and that was where they’d made their relationship official. They moved on slowly, and to _y/n_’s words, she stuck with Em through the highs and lows. And Emily did the same for _y/n_. Weathering life together, they realized, was much more enjoyable than being alone. Even in the hard times and arguments. And this reassurance made _y/n_ feel strong enough to tell Em the whole truth.

All of the care and love that they had shared. All the late nights and early mornings. _y/n_ knew that that kind of love didn’t just go away because things changed. So _y/n_ took a deep breath and replied, “I can’t be your girl anymore because I think I’m… nonbinary.” The words hung there for a few seconds before Prentiss’s face changed from one of confusion to one of unbridled joy. Em put both of her hands across the table, and _y/n_ took them in hers. All Emily said was, “Really? For how long sweetheart?” Prentiss had noticed the subtle changes in _y/n_’s behavior and mannerisms. Of course, she had. But Emily didn’t want to read into things or press _y/n_ into talking about things she might not want to. _y/n_ took a breath and said, “Maybe a month or a little more. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but it finally clicked after we did that charity 5K with the team.” Prentiss nodded. That had been an interesting afternoon, but she didn’t realize how much it had meant to _y/n. _y/n_ looked at Emily’s face. Even though it was jubilant, _y/n_ had to make sure. Had to hear from Emily, and _y/n_ asked, “So you’re not upset? I know you prefer dating women, but I’m not that anymore I guess.” Emily pulled _y/n_’s hands to her mouth and kissed over both sets of _y/n_’s knuckles before saying, “Of course, I’m not upset, _y/n_. You’re telling me who you are. Who the real you is. That takes courage and reflection, and I love that about you. You never back down from a challenge or a hard thing. Even if that hard thing is understanding yourself.” _y/n_ wasn’t sure why Emily’s positive words were having such an effect on them, but _y/n_’s eyes teared up, and they had to pull _y/d/h_ out of Em’s to wipe them away with their shirt sleeve. _y/n_ laughed and said, “At least I’m still emotional as I’ve always been.” That had Prentiss laugh and say, “_y/n_. Just because you feel differently about your body or gender doesn’t mean you’re just going to change in an instant. If you feel like you need to make changes, then that will happen, but you’re still you. You’re still the person I love. I will always love.” Em took a breath, feeling emotional herself before she said, “I love every possible iteration of you.” _y/n_ sniffled and asked, “What did I ever do to deserve you, Em?” They were both beaming now, and Prentiss replied, “I could ask you the same thing, _y/n_. And you know we can play at compliments forever, but do you want to talk about this more? Or do you just want to be for a bit?” _y/n_ put their chin in their hand and said, “How about a bit of both? I feel like this could be a couch conversation.

Couch conversations were when _y/n_ and Emily sat and talked about their days. Em would talk about the office drama or the latest case, while _y/n_ dove into the details of _y/j_ and what was happening there. The couch was a place for relaxed conversation with _y/f/s_ playing in the background while they talked and laughed or complained together. Big conversations happened at the table. It was an unspoken system between them. Given Emily’s hectic and stressful life, it worked for them. As _y/n_ looked at Emily’s hand and they moved to the couch, _y/n_ wondered why they’d started this conversation at the kitchen table. _y/n_ tossed this choice, the table or the couch bounced in their head like a ping-pong ball. It was a big deal. This kind of discovery was, and talking about it with Emily was even more important, but at the same time, realizing this new facet of themself just felt like them. It finally felt like them. Because _y/n_ wasn’t sure what to make of it, they asked Prentiss because _y/n_’s partner always had something understanding to say. Sometimes _y/n_ thought Emily knew them better than they knew themself. _y/n_ chalked it up to the profiling. Once they were both seated and the TV was on low, _y/n_ asked, “Did I make this too big a deal?” Emily turned her head to _y/n_ and moved her hand to _y/n_’s jaw, stroking down _y/n_’s face. Even though Em had never had the feelings _y/n_ had about their gender, she had felt unsure about her sexuality. She understood how it felt like everything and nothing at the same time. Prentiss said, “Not at all, _y/n_. It wasn’t too big or too small. It’s important to you in the big way, and in the small mundane life things, and I’m excited to explore all of those intricacies with you. The highs and the lows. I am so excited to be with you no matter what. No matter who you are.” At that moment, _y/n_ fully understood that Emily knew them. And feeling known right now made _y/n_ feel like the most real version of themself as they’d ever been.

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antifainternational · 2 years

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hey my mom thinks antifa is a terrorist organization that is hired (doesnt say by who) to cause chaos and riots. how do i explain how shes wrong

Three part answer for you, Anon: PART ONE - SHOW & PROVE: If your mom is claiming that antifa is a terrorist organization and not simply a social movement opposed to fascism, she should provide evidence to back her claims. Tell her not to bother looking on the FBI website or the DHS website though - there is nothing about "antifa = terrorists" there. As far as we know, no government in the world has listed antifa as a terrorist organization, either. So what exactly does she have to go by here? If your mom is claiming that antifa is "hired to cause chaos & riots" she should provide evidence backing this up. With hundreds of thousands of people involved in a global movement like antifa, surely someone must have come forward with solid proof of this. Emails or chat screenshots? Pay stubs or receipts? With a movement as large as ours, if we're being bankrolled by someone (and we bet if you press her she's going to name a Jewish person as "the boss" of antifa b/c anti-semitic tropes about insidious Jews secretly controlling the world are not much of a stretch for people like your mom), then surely someone has spilled the beans/leaked evidence and if someone had then surely it would be front-page news around the world. Think of the scale of $$$ that would have to be involved. We're pretty certain there are hundreds of thousands of anti-fascists globally. How much would it cost to hire hundreds of thousands of people around the world to "cause chaos and riots?" How would you move that money to individuals? What kind of logistics and infastructure would be involved and with how many people coordinating it while miraculously keeping it all hush-hush? Where's the evidence to back her claim? And what motive would someone have to hire hundreds of thousands of people to "cause chaos and riots?" How would it benefit them to do so? What would they have to gain that would be worth more than the tens of millions of dollars they'd have to spend + the risk of arrest? If your mom is so certain about this and such an expert on antifa, she should be able to point you to incontrovertible evidence that antifa is really a terrorist organization hired by someone to cause chaos & riots. What does she have to point to? Oh, and we're going to guess she might cite specific examples of social unrest and claim that some of the actors are "antifa." How would she know, though? Did she interview them? Did she find "antifa" membership cards in their wallets? What evidence would she be able to show that anyone involved in some kind of civil disturbance is there as an anti-fascist? PART TWO: WHERE THE REAL TERROR THREAT COMES FROM If your mom is concerned about terrorism, she should logically focus her concern on those that are the most dangerous terrorists out there. And those terrorists = the very same fascists & far-right bigots that antifa opposes. Last year, our international violent hate crimes research project documented 836 incidents where people were targeted for violence by bigots & far-right extremists. These included 120 shootings, 107 stabbings, a dozen bombings, 22 car attacks, an acid attack, and 30 arsons. 442 of those people in those attacks were murdered and a further 1731 were injured. Your mom can read all about those attacks in our 2021 report. How many people were murdered by antifa in 2021? How many people were injured? How many shootings or bombings or car attacks or stabbings or acid attacks were credibly-attributed to antifa in 2021? We bet your mom would have trouble naming a single, verifiable case. And it's not just last year, either. The Center for Strategic and International Studies analyzed 900 politically-motivated attacks in the US between 1994 and 2020 and here's what they found:

We hear alot about "antifa and Black Lives Matter burning down cities." But a Harvard Study that examined more than 7300 BLM protests found that not only were they overwhelmingly peaceful (with injuries reported at just 1.6% of the protests); when there was violence it was most-often coming from far-right counter-protestors or from the police themselves.

We can't help but note that the day before we're writing this response to you, a Trump supporter shot up a Fourth of July celebration in IL, killing six and injuring 24. We can immediately think of three other Trump supporters that committed mass shootings in Florida, Texas, and Canada. Together, these four shootings committed by far-right extremists claimed 52 lives. How many people have been killed by anti-fascists in the past year or past five years or past fifty years, comparatively? If your mom's biggest concern is with terrorists terrorizing communities with horrific violence, then her concerns should be clearly be focused on far-right/fascist actors - since the lion's share and the most extreme terrorist violence is coming from them - and not on the people standing in opposition to them. If that isn't where her concern/vitriol is focused, then "terrorism" isn't really what's concerning her, is it? PART THREE: IT'S YOUR MOM This is the tough part, Anon - the part where you have to contend with the fact that your own mom may have at best been unduly influenced/radicalized to have a very distorted view of the world and at worst might be a shitty, shitty person. If you're interested in trying to continue to have a relationship with her, good luck to you - we're not relationship experts or therapists but we did put together this advice for other people who've found themselves facing a similar situation. Maybe some of that will be helpful or lead you to something that will be helpful? If she's not quite that far gone down the rabbit hole of irrational far-right conspiracy garbage, maybe she's willing to educate herself regarding antifa? Historian Mark Bray's book on the subject is an excellent starting point; if she's more inclined to watch stuff she couldn't go wrong by watching Philosophy Tube's extensive analysis of antifa. Whichever way it goes, Anon, we hope you're able to get through to her.

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wrenreid · 1 year

Text

Just Acting

18+ story

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Is Spencer with you?" The voice on the other end of Delilah's phone belongs to Emily Prentiss.

"No. He texted me that he was leaving for work an hour ago." Delilah's voice is filled with concern and confusion.

"He's not here. Do you mind coming to Quantico?"

She nods, and realizes Emily can't see her. “Yeah. Yes of course."

Delilah tells her assistant she'll be late for work today. She gets into her car and drives to FBI Headquarters.

"What's going on?" Delilah says, more to herself than the team.

"It's not like him to sleep in. I don't think in the 18 years I’ve known this man that he was ever slept in," JJ says. "Or fall back asleep."

"Should I be worried? Because I'm worried."

"It's okay, we'll get to the bottom of this," Alvez says to Delilah.

Garcia tracks his phone, impressing Delilah immensely by her skills.

"She's like basically a wizard," Luke says with a slight smile.

Delilah nods, smiling back as much as she can.

"A hot wizard," Penelope corrects him. "Last place his phone was on was a few miles from his apartment."

Delilah furrows her eyebrows. "He turned it off?"

"Someone did," Matt says, crossing his arms.

"None of us know anything about someone who seemed threatening in his life, do you?" Emily asks Delilah, sitting her down. "Anything is useful."

"No. No, things were perfectly fine as far as I know," she sighs.

"No one seemed to have something out for him. Or even you?"

She shakes her head.

_____

You were back at work for six days now. Well, the show was back to filming, Delilah wasn't on this episode until the end. While your boyfriend, it's still crazy to call Gubler that.... while Matthew was filming with the others, you stayed at your place and decided to clean up a bit to occupy your time. Your playlist blared as you cleaned your closet. New Year's Day started replaying in your head, and you stop what you’re doing, smiling to yourself. New Year's day, you’d woken up with a slight hangover, Matthew's chest under your head.

A part of you had thought you dreamt up the whole night before. You smile, not wanting to leave the bed ever again, but you did leave the bed. You put on a pot of coffee and then went to the restroom to brush your teeth.

"I thought you bailed on me, then I remember we're in your apartment," Matthew says with a soft laugh.

"There's coffee in the kitchen," you smile.

He pulls your back to his chest and kisses your head. "Thank you." Matthew leaves to go into your kitchen so you could finish up. You rinse your mouth and go to join him.

The two of you sit on the couch. You put your legs on his lap, leaning back into the cushions. He rests a hand on your calf, rubbing your leg gently.

"I hate when Aisha's right," you grunt, rolling your eyes.

"What?" He laughs, eyes questioning you.

"She told me a while back that the reason we fought all the time was because I was hiding my feelings for you."

A small smile grew on his face. “Adam told me the same thing."

"How annoying of them," you say, finishing your coffee.

"Damn girl," he laughs. “Want some more?"

"Yes please. Anything to get rid of this dumb headache."

"Maybe you should've had drunk so much last night."

You point a finger at him. "Hey, my drinking got us together."

He laughs softly, standing up to refill your cup.

You watch as he walks to your kitchen and pours some more coffee, putting in just the right amount of ice and creamer. He does pay attention. You smile. This is a sight you'd never thought you'd enjoy so much, Matthew messy-haired and still sleepy in your apartment.

_____

"Wait. My new assistant has been kind of... strange."

"Strange how?"

"I catch her looking into my office window sometimes m, she stole my perfume one day, and my receptionist told me one day she just left work out of the.... holy shit."

"What?"

"Spencer was there that day. He had just left to meet me at the coffee shop while I was finishing up. That's the day Jenna left work. Like ten minutes after Spencer."

"I think we have a lead."

"Oh my god. I can't believe this..."

"It's not your fault, Delilah."

"I hired her," Delilah says, running her hand though her hair.

"It's not your fault."

Garcia asks Delilah for her assistant's name. "Ah yes, okay she's from Miami, Florida, 31 years old. Lemme check her phone records."

Delilah watches as Penelope types away. "Okay so no phone calls were made today, but there's one from 11:38 last night to a Kendrick Omar, actually there's hundreds of calls to this number from the past three months. Does that name ring a bell?"

Omar. The last name of the guy who kidnapped Delilah and her father and killed him.

"We profiled that Omar's true intentions were to get Delilah, right?" Luke asks.

Emily nods. "Maybe he has a brother that didn't show up on his records."

"So you're saying the guy who kidnapped and killed my father, the guy you shot, might've taken Spencer?"

Concerned and serious looks are shared between the team.

Delilah sighs audibly. "I did a background check. Hell, I did two background checks on this woman."

JJ touches her arm lightly. "We're going to find him."

Delilah nods, closing her eyes.

The team works together, having Delilah stay in the building for psychological and protective reasons. Garcia types away at her keyboard, working her magic.

After an hour, Prentiss tells Delilah "We've pieced together that Jenna is obsessed with you. She wants you for herself, the same weird fantasy that Omar had. They'd met you through your dad and you most likely remind them of their first victim. Spencer got in the way of her having you. Jealousy overtook her, so she retaliated. This could also be a lure for you."

Delilah wonders if she looks as sick as she feels. She nods to Emily.

"I have an address. There's a house ten miles outside of town that's in Kendrick Omar's name," Penelope says.

"I'm going with you."

"No you're not," Luke says, more concerned than sternly.

"Yes I am. If this is a lure, then let them lure me in. I trust you guys will be there to protect me. Plus, if I'm part of their fantasy, then they won't actually hurt me." Delilah folds her arms. "I need to be there when we get Spencer back."

"She's smart," Matt says.

"Okay," Prentiss sighs, "We'll get got a vest to wear under your shirt."

Delilah nods, biting her lip anxiously.

Soon enough, they pile into an suv, driving to the address Penelope gave them.

"I should go in alone," Delilah says. "I don't doubt they'd hurt Spencer if they saw FBI with me."

"We'll go around back." Emily grabs Delilah's hand. "Be careful."

Delilah nods and gets out of the suv.

"Jenna?" Delilah calls, walking in slowly.

"Oh good you're here," Jenna smiles, walking to the line of vision. She's holding a gun in her right hand. "I wasn't sure if this would work. I was actually sort of hoping you wouldn't want to save him."

"Kidnapping an FBI agent isn't the brightest idea, Jenna."

"That's exactly what Kendrick said," she smiles devilishly, "then I shot him."

"Why did you do this?"

"Why do you think? I did it for you, silly. For us."

Delilah takes in a sharp breath. Why go through all the trouble? Why not just tell me? We could've had a life together without hurting anyone."

The look in her eyes changes. "Would that have worked?"

Delilah nods. "Just let Spencer go, and I'll go wherever you want with you."

"Come with me," she holds her hand out to Delilah. She takes it.

Jenna leads her to a room where Spencer is tied to a chair. He's clearly been given a sedative and his head is bloody. He averts his gaze upwards to Delilah, eyes showing signs of relief and joy at the sight of her.

"I want you to say it in front of him."

"Say what?"

Jenna glares at Delilah. "What you said earlier. How you want a life with me."

Delilah looks to Spencer, then to Jenna. "I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Now say it to him," she gestures to Spencer with her gun.

Delilah looks down then into Spencer's eyes. "I want to be with her. I don't love you."

Delilah then smiles to Jenna, trying desperately to get her to let him go.

Jenna sighs, looking annoyed and angry. "I wish I believed that, sweetheart.”

"But I-"

Jenna slaps her across the face. "You're lying."

"I'm not. I promise I'm not. Just let him go and we can leave. Together." Delilah pleads, holding her face.

"If you don't love him, then you'll shoot him yourself."

"What?" Her eyes widen.

"Go on," Jenna hands her the gun.

"We don't have to hurt anybody. There's no need to hurt anybody."

"You're really pissing me off. Just pull the damn trigger."

Delilah points the gun at Spencer, tears pricking at her eyes. The team was already in the house, she knew that. Delilah drops her aim to the ground.

"Fuck, I'll do it," Jenna goes to grab the gun, but before she can, Delilah shoots her in the stomach.

Her eyes widen as she falls. Blood spills onto the floor in front of Delilah's eyes. Emily and Luke rush into the room, the others following behind. There's looks of relief in their eyes as they see it was Jenna on the ground and not Delilah or Spencer.

Delilah's vision is blurry and her ears ring as Spencer is being untied. Tears fall from her eyes. She had walked away from them, barely even noticing she did so. She feels a touch on her arms and she jumps slightly.

"Hey, it's okay." The voice belongs to Spencer.

"I shot someone..."

The medics were already arriving, getting Jenna onto a stretcher. She's alive, losing a lot of blood, but alive.

"You saved my life."

Delilah turns so her head was against his chest. She cries into him, holding on to his shirt. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"I know. I know, baby. I'm okay."

"For what it's worth, you were brave as hell," Emily says to Delilah on their way to the suv. Delilah's walking beside Spencer with her head hanging low. She nods to Emily, mustering up a slight smile.

_____

"I'm sorry you had to do that," Spencer breaks the silence while they're sitting on the couch.

Delilah nods. "I'm just glad you're okay. Maybe this is finally all over for us.”

"I hope so," Spencer smiled, grabbing her hand. "I love you."

"I love you," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He has a slight concussion that the doctors told him to watch out for, but other than that he's alright.

You just finished filming your last episode of season 16. It's a crazy feeling. Right now, it's almost 12am and you're sitting on Matthew's actor chair while the director talk to you guys.

There's a few more episodes left in the season, but Delilah is off the screen for the rest of it. Jeff tells you to meet in the table read room.

When you walk in, you see the rest of the cast and a few crew members standing around the table. AJ presents you a pan of cupcakes, one reads "that's a wrap".

You smile. "You guys are the best."

All of you dig into the sweets and talk amongst each other. Matthew kisses your temple. "I'll miss bugging you at work."

"Of course you will," you roll your eyes playfully.

After a little over an hour, Matthew drives you home since you carpooled to set anyway.

"How does it feel to be jobless?"

"Ha ha," you say with a smile. "Actually, not bad yet. But I'll definitely be bored soon."

He smiles. "I'm sure you'll find hundreds of projects just itching you cast someone like you."

"And what would that be?" You lean into him.

"Talented, frustrating, and pretty. Among other things."

You smile. "You should get some rest."

"You too."

You kiss Matthew's lips softly. "Goodnight."

He smiles, "Goodnight, Y/n." He leaves your apartment after giving you another kiss.

You smile, turning on your heels to your bedroom.

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