#OH! and talking about it!! can you fucking believe she INVESTIGATED the phone of our ~new~ friend (the one shes jealous of)

[malkaviian]

i have a headache but also i dont want to go to sleep just yet dkjnfjds i want me-time

(warning: as i was writing the tags of this post this turned into another kinda-heavy rant about the situation my group of friends and i are. so keep that in mind)

#things were weird today when She(tm) was there but when she left things were normal again #but these hours were kinda stressful rip or more like... there was an inherent discomfort and tension in the air #with some ugly commentaries and actions on her part. like its your (supposed) best friend's birthday at least try to hide your disgust 👍 #birthday you ~apparently~ forgot until it the day before. also you didnt had a single penny to spend on the gift for him #but you sure as hell had it to go eat with your college friends to expensive places! girl at least dont post about it on insta #and just in case; this wasnt a '*goes to expensive places before* -oh i dont have money sowwy :((' #this was a '-oh i dont have money sowwy :(( *goes to expensive places after it*' #what we were asking for collaboration was way less than what she spent on those places. it was AT THE VERY LEAST 3000 ars per food #and you know what she wanted to give for the gift? 500 ars!!! you cant buy shit with it; let alone if we only collaborated with 500 each #like she wanted. we're 4; genuine question what kinda shit can you buy for $2000. maybe a good quality cup but we already gave him that #but even then the point is not the money; the thing is the attitude. you cant spend more than $500 on us #but you can spend at least $6000 on your other friends; given you went to eat with them two days in a row. priorities i guess? #OH! and talking about it!! can you fucking believe she INVESTIGATED the phone of our ~new~ friend (the one shes jealous of) #and DEADASS said 'oh i see. my mom has an A51'. our friend has an A20 if im not wrong; which might not be an A51 but its. still expensive?? #also your mom has an A51 but you have an iPhone 5 since you were on high school. but hey; apple i am right?? inherently better than an A20 #sorry i have less than that; i have an A10s (that i got on the start of 2020). can i still breathe the same air as you and your mom /s #once again the problem is not the money or the phone or WHATEVER. its the fucking attitude shes having. you want to pretend you have money #and act like youre superior to people who 'dont'; when in reality YOU ARE MIDDLE CLASS. YOU ARENT UPPER CLASS; NOT EVEN UPPER-MIDDLE CLASS #YOURE MIDDLE CLASS. MIDDLE CLASS LIKE THE REST OF US; NOT LIKE YOUR COLLEGE FRIENDS YOU LOVE SO MUCH AND WANT TO IMPRESS #YOU SPEND MONEY YOU DEFINITELY DONT HAVE BECAUSE YOU WANT TO APPEAR UPPER-MIDDLE AT THE VERY LEAST. but thats a lie #a lie that if these beloved friends bothered to ACTUALLY know even the slightest about you; like we do; would fall apart. but they wouldnt! #because they dont care about you as much as we care(d). do you think they will tolerate this fucking attitude youre having towards us? #no they wouldnt. trust me; they WOULDNT. they will tell you to fuck off and leave you completely alone. go cry a river. #god fucking dammit why are you like this. WHY you turned like this. or rather; why we were SO GODDAMN blind we didnt noticed this before #negative

[whysojiminimnida]

Remember When I Said Taehyung Might Not Be As Gay As We Thought?

Don't judge a man by his milfy wardrobe, he looks goooood.

It was... awhile ago. Maybe as far back as 2021 although I do not feel like link-searching it. It's in the archives if I didn't kill it.

Granted, there was a lot going on, then. There's still a lot going on and until now I had no desire to ever - EVER - return to this hellsite. Because Taekookers are fucking weird, yo. And some of y'all got a lil bit up in my shit too as I (fuzzily) recall. Which: it's whatever. I'm extremely unsocial, don't even answer my own DMs. And it's not personal, so I get it. I don't need or want to defend myself, but I will protect people I care about. With my absence, if necessary.

OT: I also totally kicked the big C while I've been out so that was nice. Yoongi the cat is pleased that his noms will continue uninterrupted. I will be in wigs for at least another year. It's all good. Oh LOOK at what we have here. Don't come at me for publishing this, I will explain.

I got it from actual media days ago, okay, and also: there was no expectation of real privacy. Keep reading. Or don't, I'm not telling you what to do.

ANYWAY. I had to come back, mainly to say TAENNIE IS REAL I TOLD Y'ALL IDK WHY NOBODY EVER BELIEVES ME BUT HERE WE ARE. I'm gloating. Honestly, it's so rude, I'd apologize if I cared. But I am rude and snorfling into my cheerios about this. Tae just made me so damn happy, is all.

LET THE MAN BE BI OR HETEROFLEXIBLE OR EVEN STRAIGHT IDC. Jennie clearly makes him happy. Look at his "I'm going to Paris to see my girlfriend" face!

And in that very specific jewelry look, no less. Foundrae. Again. Still. Hm.

Here's what I can tell you based on my limited third hand no sources no receipts this is probably utter bullshit usual disclaimer: It's a soft open, kids. This whole "oopsie we just so happened to get caught taking a lil walk in public with our managers in tow during which date at least one of us signed several autographs, what a surprise" is in fact a soft open for what will likely be a public confirmation PRETTY DAMN SOON. It might happen before I get this thing published, actually, depending on when I get it up. If it's before May 22 at noon my time, no idea. If after, well. Guess we'll see. Jennie's supposed to show up at the screening of HBO's The Idol that day, screening at the Grand Lumiere at 10:30 CEST. One wonders if she will arrive alone, or bring a plus one. It's a big ask, and if he does it they're probably getting married, that's how big a deal it would be. So I'm not holding my breath, but.

This seems like a reasonable prospect for a plus-one viewing. Might not be the only one but... Jennie's IN IT so.

I'M NOT SAYING THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN. I think it would be a fucking POWER move if it did, but I also do not necessarily expect that it will. It COULD. It... MIGHT. It might not. Either way they're a thing, I'm telling you. They are, have been, a thing. For awhile. And it is apparently quite serious - like up to and including talk of engagement serious.

Remember when a bunch of folk thought that one gummy bear dude was going to jail for "hacking" Jennie's phone only there's been no actual movement on any "investigation"? Yeah. Trickle truthing, they call it. Give 'em a little bit, let them deny it and yell and chew on it for awhile before you give 'em a little more. But c'mon, nobody's wearing half the love-themed couple pieces at Foundrae for no damn reason.

Seriously they got the whole collection almost and both have been seen wearing them almost exclusively. For a year.See airport pic above.

Look, I don't have inside info on Taehyung. I do not. I ain't hang with his friends and I don't know him personally. Never met the guy. But I know a PR move when I see one and this is exactly that.

We all know how toxic stan culture can be. Some ToadlicKKers (and a few of us house elves) are certifiably bonkers, if stan twitter is anything to go by. And the guys, the company, they expect a whole meltdown. They know this is not gonna make half their fans happy. I mean the tkkers have a point in that it looks like they wanted to be seen. BECAUSE IT'S A SOFT OPEN. What Taejen/Taennie/Jenhyung and the companies also know is that based on historic shipper behavior, this is gonna come back on Jimin, Jungkook, maybe Rose' and Lisa. And by extension, the other members. Maybe not as much due to their respective distance, but still. I bet by the time I finish this it will have already started.

Oh look there it is. Fuck those bitches, really.

Good LORDT. I'm not adding the audio, if y'all are that hungry for psycho hose beast Jimin hate hie thee to stan twt.

But, totally off-topic kinda...

... wouldn't it be cool if Jennie, who speaks great English, was hanging out with Troye Sivan and was like "so you know my boyfriend tells me that his bffs..." I'M JUST SAYING NETWORKING IS COOL AND FRIENDS OF FRIENDS GET THINGS DONE OKAY.

You know that girl has the scoop. If Tae knows it, she knows it. Oh heeeeyyy Troye.

Also OT: I love that Taekook have been hanging out a little more lately. It's refreshing. I genuinely think having Jennie in his life has been good for Tae in several ways. And you know, I'm kinda surprised Taennie has lasted this long. I didn't honestly think they would. It warms my decrepit, sad old heart a bit. Turns out I have a lot more to say so IDK IDK, if I feel okay about it I might be back. Right now I'm just waiting for the official Taennie nod and the continued total meltdown.

#oh shit here we go again #taennie #stan twt #cannes #taehyung #kim taehyung #jennie #meanwhile the jeon parks continue unabated but that's another thing #tae in paris #random troye sivan #cannes 2023 #yoongi the cat not the man #why the hell am i even here

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My Website

The valentine on Jon’s desk had Martin written all over it, in every way but literal. It was done in an elaborate old-fashioned style, fitting with that retro aesthetic he liked, huge and dark red and trimmed in a delicate white lace shot through with silver. Across the front in gold ink was a syrupy love poem praising Jon’s eyes, hair, voice, and general sense of style, using a few rather forced rhymes and clearly patterned on Keats, and written in a delicate, ornate script. It was signed “Your Secret Admirer”, but the I had been replaced with a drawing of an actual eye, winking flirtatiously. It had also been taped to a tin of chocolate-covered biscuits specially manufactured for Valentine’s Day. In short, it was a grand, over-the-top gesture designed to either make Jon swoon or die of embarrassment, with the additional risk that he might explode with rage.

Jon set it on the edge of his desk and tried to ignore it, waiting for the person who’d put it there to come back and see how he was taking it.

Soon enough, the door creaked open. “Hey, I—what the fuck is that?”

“A llama,” Jon said, as calmly and dryly as he could, without looking up from the tapes scattered over his desk.

“You’re an ass.” There was no real heat in Melanie’s voice, though, as she shut the door and pulled up the chair opposite him, then reached for the valentine. “Oh, God, did you make this?”

“No, it was on my desk when I came in this morning.” Jon glanced at the clock on his laptop. “Bit surprised nobody’s come in to ask about it.”

Melanie’s face screwed up into something indescribable as she read the poem. It was like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or throw up. “Why did you let me see this?”

Jon raised an eyebrow at her. “In the first place, I didn’t know you were coming. But now you have, I’m hoping you can help me come up with a suitable way to get back at Tim for this, since I can’t fire him.”

Melanie burst out laughing, setting down the valentine. “Oh, thank God, I was afraid I was going to have to shove Martin into the Thames.”

“Yes, well, Tim obviously meant for me to think this was from Martin, but the handwriting slants in the wrong direction,” Jon pointed out. “This was clearly done with a fountain pen. Martin couldn’t have written like this without dragging his hand or sleeve through the wet ink and smearing the whole thing. Also, he knows I’m not overly fond of this brand of biscuits.”

“You should bring it to the bookshop after work today. Get the rest to go with you. Give it to G—to the proprietor in front of everyone and tell him Tim was too shy to deliver it himself. Then do me a favor and take a picture of his face so I can see it later.”

At that, Jon couldn’t help but start laughing too. “You won’t be coming?”

Instantly, Melanie sobered. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I, um—I think the time has come for me to make a statement about…you know. Our research.”

Jon became serious as well and reached for the tape recorder. He knew Melanie wasn’t talking about the Unknowing.

In the time between Melanie getting off the phone with Martin and Jon being discharged from the hospital up Sheffield way, they’d come to a mutual understanding regarding what had happened at the scrap yard. Namely, that despite the fact that both of them knew the risks—Melanie perhaps more than Jon, although he’d always been a quick study—they were going to keep investigating. At first they’d said, or maybe just pretended, it was because of the possibility that the Slaughter was preparing for a ritual, but since Gerry said they didn’t have to worry about it, it was harder to admit they really believed that. The trouble was that they were both…fascinated. Curious. It might have been the Eye, it might have been the Slaughter trying to lure them both in, it might just have been that they were drawn to a challenge and a good mystery, but whatever it was, they hadn’t been able to leave it alone.

“Hypothetically speaking, how much trouble am I going to get in if Martin gets hold of this tape?” he asked as he hit RECORD. No sense in even making a pretense at using the laptop.

Melanie snorted. “Not nearly as much as I am. I mean, you’re still relatively new to all this. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit since I was eight. I should know better. And here I led you right into it.”

“It didn’t take all that much leading, to be honest,” Jon admitted. “Right, let’s—let’s get this started. Statement of Melanie King, regarding her further researches into war ghosts. Recorded direct from subject, fourteenth February, 2017.” He nodded at her. “Statement begins.”

Melanie took a deep breath. “Ghost Hunt UK struggled after Aldershot. I was honestly not in the best place in the world at the time to begin with—I’d just lost my oldest brother a couple months before, and I was ‘dealing’ with that by bottling it up and ignoring it, but I was distracted more than I wanted to admit. Sarah Baldwin disappeared. I spent a while trying to track her down, but nothing led anywhere, and I was afraid to push too hard. I think I knew there was something…off about her, and I had a guess as to what it was, so I was admittedly a lot more fixated on the ghost. It wouldn’t go on the recording, that’s what hit me. Things that won’t record properly are always dangerous. I didn’t dig into it too much at the time either, because a part of me wondered if Sarah was what made it go wonky, but it stuck with me.

“The others were dealing with their own stuff. We struggled along for another year, but it wasn’t the same. Toni was the worst. She just got harder and harder to pin down, and when she moved to Bristol in the end, she didn’t even tell me. I had to hear it from Pete, who told me at the same time that he was thinking of leaving, too. That’s about when I came to make my statement, and truthfully…I didn’t actually intend to make it about the incident at the CMH. I was going to…I don’t know, give you something you could have proved was false? It was just an excuse, really. I wanted—needed—to talk to Martin, and I had to say something to get past the harridan at the front desk, so I said I was coming to make a statement. But after it came out…I realized how it sounded, and I just couldn’t let it go. That helped when Andy decided to take what he called ‘a bit of a holiday’ and moved out of the house. As far as Ghost Hunt UK is concerned, he’s still on holiday, and it’s just me.”

She kept going, detailing the paths she’d followed, the research she’d poked into, the way she’d been subtly or not-so-subtly warned off by the few contacts she’d had left in the ghost-hunting world. Jon had heard most of this before, on the trip north to visit her family, but he listened intently anyway, especially when she got into how she’d found out about the scrap yard and made arrangements to stay with her great-aunt.

“That’s when I brought you in,” she said. “When I first got started with Ghost Hunt UK, I promised my brothers that if I ever ran into anything like that, I’d tell them right away, that I wouldn’t go into situations like that without backup. But Martin was still recovering from the attack on the Institute—maybe not physically, but mentally. If he gets too close to this sort of thing too soon after a major incident, he’s more…vulnerable to it, and I was scared to death of losing him. And I trusted you—not just to have my back if things went south, but to, you know, understand what we were doing. Maybe there was also a little bit of knowing you wouldn’t stop me from investigating further. Martin would have gone into big brother mode, and honestly he would have been right to, but I just…I had to know.”

“I know what that’s like,” Jon admitted.

“I know you do.” Melanie gave him a quick smile. “I don’t think I need to go into detail about what we went through at that scrap yard, since you were with me. And thank God you were, because I was…I was fascinated by that ghost we saw, the one with the scalpel. I wouldn’t have gotten away in time if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, and I almost certainly would have been caught by security. I didn’t want you to get hurt in my place, but…I’m glad you were there.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway. Once we got back to London and…things settled down a bit, I took that serial number you found on the car and looked it up. It was from World War II, you were right. The Eleventh US Army Hospital train, operating in the European theater from August 1944. The train crew was even commended for their service.”

“But…” Jon prompted.

“It crashed in April 1945. Derailed, killed five crew and seriously injured fourteen more. There weren’t any patients on board at the time—at least, not officially. We both know how that goes,” Melanie added, her eyes darkening slightly. Jon winced in sympathy. “There was only one steel car that avoided derailment.”

“The one in Rotherham.”

“Exactly. There’s not a lot of information on it, though, and I’ve no idea how it ended up there. So that’s when I asked you to get me into the library.”

Jon blinked. “I—I didn’t think of that, actually. Our library is extensive, but it’s hardly focused on the Second World War.”

Melanie grinned. “No, but the most detailed description of the crash came from a man named William W. Hay. And later in life, William Hay…”

“Became a noted occultist,” Jon completed, feeling a grin split his own face, “whose memoirs and researches were only ever published in a heavily edited form. And we have original copies.”

“Exactly.”

“What did you find?”

“Plenty. He served on the Eleventh Hospital Train as an engineer, and there was a lot he had to say about it. They even let me make a photocopy.” Melanie handed Jon a sheet of paper that felt far too flimsy for the weight it undoubtedly bore.

He read it out loud, slowly and distinctly. It wasn’t much, just a brief description of atrocities committed that had left Hay wholly sympathetic to the train’s derailment, but at the end, it also included a cryptic reference to an incident at the infirmary at Amritsar. Jon knew where that was, more or less—he wasn’t intimately familiar with Indian geography, but it was at least the same end of the country that his grandmother’s people had come from, so he’d done some studying of the region. And he certainly knew who the Ghurkhas were. The passage, short as it was, chilled him to the bone.

“I see,” he said, lowering the paper. “So does this mean…?”

“Yes,” Melanie said with a nod. “And I’ve already got my plane ticket to India booked.”

A spike of alarm, mingled with curiosity, shot through Jon. He scanned her face a bit anxiously. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

“Probably not,” Melanie replied honestly. “But I’ve got to go. I can’t let this go. You know that.”

“I know.” Jon shot a glance at his laptop. If he could justify this to Elias…“Perhaps it would be safer if I went with you.”

Melanie winced. “Under any other circumstances, I’d jump on that, honestly, but—no, I don’t think so. Not with that scar on your shoulder. This…whatever it is, it’s made a much deeper impression on you than it has on me. I might get lucky and be able to escape it. Worst-case scenario, I’ll probably just end up with a nasty injury that lays me up for a few days. If you come along, I think it’ll stir up worse and increase the risk that neither of us make it out alive. So, thanks, but no. I’ve got to do this on my own.”

Jon wasn’t entirely sure he agreed with that last part, but he did have to admit she was probably right about not taking him. “One more question, then. Have you told…ah…anyone other than me that you’re going?” They were careful not to mention Gerry anywhere Elias might overhear, at least not by name, but the specter of Melanie’s brothers hung between them as though they were right there.

“I told my boss at the bookstore,” Melanie said with the briefest of flickers in her eyes. “Or at least I told him I was going out of town. Didn’t tell him the specifics. And…well, Martin was at lunch when I got here, but I’ve got time before I need to get to Gatwick, especially since I’m not bringing any luggage, so I figure I’ll wait a bit and say goodbye before I go. Uh, I’m—not going to tell him what I’m heading to research, either.”

Jon shouldn’t be encouraging that level of concealment, but, he rationalized, Martin likely wouldn’t be able to go with her if he did know, and he’d just worry excessively. Maybe he would let him listen to the tape once Melanie was well on her way.

He would undoubtedly kill both of them, but at the same time, they had to know.

“I understand,” he said finally. “Thank you, Melanie.”

“Yeah,” Melanie said softly. She stood up and held out her arms.

Jon got up as well and hugged her fiercely. He didn’t need any kind of supernatural ability to know that she was more afraid than she was letting on. The thrill of the research, the curiosity about what they had seen and felt and discovered, may have driven her to this point, but she had a healthy respect for, if not fear of, death, and she knew what she was risking. He knew it, too, but he also knew that wasn’t going to stop either of them. His warnings were on the record, and he had to admit that if their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t have hesitated in going either, frightened or not.

“Please be careful,” he implored her. “You know what it would do to Martin if he lost you.” He tried for a laugh. “And I’ve grown to rather like having you around myself.”

Melanie managed a laugh, too. “I’ll be as careful as I can, mate.” She squeezed him extra hard for a moment, then eased back—reluctantly, it seemed to Jon. He, too, let go slowly. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks. Three at the most. I’ve got the automatic feeder set up, but if you could maybe pop in and make sure there’s water if you get the chance…”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Melanie smiled. “And, uh, I’ll turn in that library pass on my way out. Do I have to go back and leave it with Diana?”

“No, you can leave it with Rosie. She honestly handles most of the paperwork for the Institute.”

“Which one’s Rosie?” Melanie flushed slightly under Jon’s raised eyebrows. “I, uh, don’t talk to a lot of people Upstairs if I can help it. I only know Diana because you introduced me, really. It’s not like everyone else walks around with name tags or anything.”

“True,” Jon admitted. “Rosie is Elias’ personal assistant-cum-secretary. She’s also the, ah, front of house, I suppose, for the Institute. Normally when we have people come to give us statements, she’s the one who calls down to tell us.” He paused. “In point of fact, she called to tell me you were coming, the first time you came to give your statement.”

“Oh, yeah, her, okay.” Melanie pursed her lips slightly. “I haven’t seen her around since then, actually. Where does she sit?”

“More or less right in front as you walk in. She’s just outside Elias’ office.” Which made sense, if she was Elias’ personal assistant, but also gave her way too much knowledge about the comings and goings of the Institute. Jon had long ago told Melanie to use the side door when she came in, so it wasn’t unreasonable that she’d found one of the back stairs to avoid having to go past Rosie’s desk on her way to the library. Frankly, Jon avoided her as much as he could, which wasn’t much, since he was constantly in and out of Elias’ office for meetings and whatnot. She was sweet enough, but…

“Huh.” Melanie’s frown deepened. “Is she out sick?”

“What?” Jon blinked at Melanie. “No, she—she should be in. I saw her this morning.”

“Who covers her breaks, then?”

“I—I don’t know that she takes them, actually. Why?”

Melanie shrugged. “Didn’t recognize the woman at the desk, that’s all.”

Jon thought back to the last time Melanie had been in. “Ah. Maybe she had her back to you? She’s dyed her hair again. I swear she does it at least once a month. It was, um, chestnut last time, wasn’t it? Last week she went to a kind of blue-black.”

It was Melanie’s turn to blink at him. “Yeah, that’s the woman I saw today. Didn’t have her back to me, though, we talked—she was as sweet as anything. Who was that?”

“Rosie,” Jon said, a bit exasperated.

“Then who the hell called me down the first time I was here?” Melanie said, sounding equally exasperated. “That woman was at least a foot taller, thin face, long pointed nose, straight grey hair. Seemed offended by my existence, which is why I had to think so fast to give her an excuse to get down to the Archives. I watched her make the call—you’re telling me that wasn’t Rosie?”

“I—what?” Jon’s stomach churned with unease, and he couldn’t really say why.

Melanie started to answer, then cocked her head towards the door. “I hear Martin. I should probably go say goodbye before I lose my chance and then get going.” She gave Jon another quick hug. “Be careful while I’m gone, yeah? Martin won’t want to lose you either.”

Jon hugged her back and resolved to sort through the conflicting roil of emotions he was currently feeling once she was gone. “I will. Safe travels, Melanie. Call if you need anything.”

“Sure.” Melanie gave him a wavering smile, then turned and stepped out of the office. “Martin, hey!”

The door closed behind her, and Jon sank into his chair, then glanced at the tape, which he belated realized was still running. “Uh. End recording.” He pressed the STOP button, and the tape shut off with a sharp snap.

If he was being honest, and he was trying very hard to be, the only part of Melanie’s statement that had actually shaken him was that last bit. He knew Rosie. Of course he knew Rosie. She’d been a fixture at the Institute since long before he’d come to work there—probably since before Martin had come to work there. She was always cheery and kind to everyone, but seemed to have a special smile for Martin. Always greeted Jon warmly when he came in, asked after his health when he came back from physical therapy, warned him if the reason he was being called to Elias’ office was a transgression or a praise. He knew her almost better than he knew anyone else outside the Archives.

Right?

What was it Michael—no, not Michael, the Distortion—what had it said after he got done calling up to Rosie when Helen Richardson finished her statement? Do you even know they’re lying to you? He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, hadn’t been able to focus on the words over his sudden surge of fear, and afterwards, back in his flat with Martin fussing over him and time to think clearly, he’d just assumed it was calculated to make him paranoid. After all, the Distortion hadn’t specified who “they” were.

But now…

Jon looked back at the tapes on his desk. Basira had brought them just that Friday, really to Martin, but they had all sort of communally agreed to store them in Jon’s office. He’d been sifting through them, looking for where to start. And now…he had an idea.

He skimmed the labels, looking for the one he’d noticed earlier. Like most of Gertrude’s tapes, the labels made little sense until you actually listened to them, and not all of them had corresponding file numbers written on the fronts. The one Jon was looking for had, but what had caught his attention was the title written above it…

Ah. There it was. Jon reached over and plucked up the tape with a single word written across its front: Changeling.

Before he could change his mind, he took the tape he’d used to record Melanie out and put Gertrude’s in, then hit PLAY.

The details of the statement may not have been what he expected, insofar as he’d expected anything at all, but the sum and substance was exactly what he’d feared. A woman had gone to her parents’ home only to find a woman everyone else seemed to believe was her mother, but the woman she remembered had been vastly different, in appearance and personality. Only the woman who’d given the statement seemed to remember her real mother. In her summing-up, Gertrude noted that the being—she called it a Not-Them—had left for good after the father’s death two days after the statement was given. She seemed remarkably blasé about the whole thing, really, and Jon wanted to be annoyed with her about that. What caught his attention, though, was her casual statement: Personally, I suspect it to be an aspect of the Stranger, though that’s entirely conjecture at this point.

The tape clicked off. Jon barely noticed it.

He thought back to the morning after the attack on the Institute, the conversation they’d had, first around Melanie’s kitchen table and then in her living room, about the statements they’d researched and the Fears they related to. Amy Patel’s statement, and the thing that was obviously not her friend Graham. The thing that isn’t Graham is the Stranger. Martin, at least, had sounded so sure…

Well. Jon trusted Martin far more than he trusted Gertrude Robinson. If the thing that had pretended to be Graham Folger and the thing that had pretended to be Rose Cooper were the same thing, then they were both of the Stranger. And…oh, God. The table. Was it tied to the table somehow? Lucy Cooper hadn’t mentioned one in her statement, but—it had to be, it just had to.

There was one more clue. Gertrude had mentioned a previous statement from this Adelard Dekker character—maybe Martin would know that name as well, although he seemed older, so who knew—and if Jon could find that, if he could read it…he wouldn’t trust the tapes, so few of them were correctly labeled, but the nineties were a bit more organized than they had been. He ought to be able to find it. And then…and then he would know.

No, he was stalling. He knew now. Breekon and Hope had delivered that damned table to the Institute. Rosie had signed for it—cheerfully, wanting to help, not wanting to bother him—or, no, was that just the Rosie he remembered? The Rosie whose memories had replaced the real ones? From Melanie’s description, maybe she had been annoyed, maybe she’d signed for it because she thought it would be easier—that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Rosie had signed for it. It was in Artifact Storage. Rosie must have gone to have another look at it, sometime after the attack…

Jon took a deep, steadying breath and got up. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. It was about time for his lunch break anyway. He would go out and—and get the supplies he would need, and then he would come back and find that statement, just to confirm what he already knew. And then…and then he would do what he could.

He suspected he wouldn’t be able to bring Rosie back. But he could make the thing that had taken her place pay for it.

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest) #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #melanie king #unreality #medical mention #train crash mention #valentine's day #lying/manipulation

[dinosaurtsukki]

haikyuu!! buzzfeed unsolved AU

OK THIS IS THE LAST BUZZFEED UNSOLVED RELATED HEADCANON SET I PROMISE 

[edit: check out the link at the bottom of the post for more buzzfeed unsolved au content :)]

hinata and kageyama:

90% of the show is them yelling and nobody watches it with earphones on

both of them believe in ghosts but that doesn't mean they want to see one

hinata will literally go to the bathroom five times before going to the spooky house and kageyama gets mad at him for it but there is Fear in his eyes

producer: 'were you scared?'

kageyama: 'pfft, no'

cameraman: *points camera down to show that kageyama's legs are shaking*

they also bring a shit ton of food with them when they stay the night at a place and they'll deadass be eating while talking about the history of the place

‘this house *crunch crunch* was built in *crunch crunch* 1972'

the producers tell them to stop bringing snacks but fans of the show love it

sometimes they'll shoot a mini mukbang video

SPICY, BARBECUE POTATO FRIES | Mukbang at the Waverly Hills Asylum'

hinata: *looking up how to do a seance on wikihow* it says we gotta offer some food for the spirit

kageyama: *spills the doritos he was eating on the table

*after 20 minutes*

kageyama: fuck this

hinata: *starts eating the doritos*

producer: ...

the ghosts: ..................the, audacity

tsukishima and yamaguchi

pretty much a ryan and shane duo right here

yamaguchi: we'll be visiting this place as part of our ongoing investigation on the question, are ghosts real?

tsukishima: *shakes head*

yamaguchi just wants to see the look of fear in tsukishima’s eyes at least once

yamaguchi: *hears a random thump sound* fUCk tSuKkI a gHoSt!!!

tsukishima: *sees a chair being tossed across the room* huh, the wind is pretty strong today

he likes to stick his head into attics to scare yamaguchi

yamaguchi always carries a water gun full of holy water

yamaguchi: i have holy water with me and i'm not afraid to use it! but i'm also sorry you had to die such a horrible death i hope you find peace soon

tsukishima: *walks into a basement that is supposedly a portal to hell* fuckin’ take me already

so many 'yamaguchi being an angel and tsukishima being a demon for 10 mins' video compilations 

daichi and sugawara

a very chaotic buzzfeed unsolved duo

suga, who is satan’s child himself, and daichi, who needs a raise

daichi: hello everyone! this is daichi,

sugawara: and suga

daichi: and you’re watching...

sugawara: jackass!!

daichi:...buzz...buzzfeed unsolved??

daichi started out being afraid of almost every place he had to walk into but after having to deal with the chaotic mess that is suga for an entire season, he no longer Feels Fear

this is because suga will deadass film a tiktok dance video no matter where he is

daichi: suga, someone was literally axe-murdered there

suga: *dancing along to ‘I’m a Savage’ or whatever that tiktok song is called*

daichi: *at cameraman* do you see what i have to deal with every day?’

suga is only genuinely scared by ghosts when his followers point out that a ghost was caught on camera in one of his tiktok videos

suga: *watching the video*

that was the end of suga’s tiktok career

tanaka and nishinoya:

another bunch of loud bois but they are much louder than kageyama and hinata

they’re very much into proving the existence of cryptids and are most known for that episode they spent hunting bigfoot by dressing up to look like bigfoot

tanaka: ‘you know that thing they do in cartoons where they stack on top of each other under a coat so they look like just one big guy?’

nishinoya: ‘ryuu i love you so fucking much’

other guy there who is also trying to catch bigfoot: oMg ItS bIgFooT *takes picture with the blurriest camera he could find*

both of them are very committed in their investigation of the supernatural and they’re very unconventional approaches

nishinoya: *lying on the ground in a creepy basement* EAT MY HEART DEMONS! WE’LL PUT THE VIDEO ON YOUTUBE!

tanaka: *takes out a spirit board* *spells out O-M-A-E  W-A  M-O  S-H-I-N-D-E-I-R-U*

ghost: *spells out N-A-N-I*

tanaka and nishinoya: *screaming*

kuroo and kenma: 

kuroo deadass flirts with any ghost or demon they encounter and kenma would sleep over in a haunted asylum for ten bucks

kuroo: *sidles up to the infamous annabelle doll* hey there little lady, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a locked, glass case with a ‘don’t touch’ sign like this?

kenma: kuroo, there’s a demon inside her

kuroo: well, i’m a bit of a demon myself

kenma: she attempted to choke a guy in his sleep

kuroo: oooh, choking. i can get behind that...

kenma: *looks at camera*

the demon in annabelle: d-daddy??

“kuroo flirting with demons and kenma looking at the camera for 5 minutes”

kuroo’s actually a huge fucking scaredy cat and kenma secretly tries to push him over the edge

kenma: *plays computer-generated screams of the damned on his phone*

kuroo: WHAT WAS THAT?

kenma: ...I didn’t hear anything *looks at the camera as if he was on the office and plays the sound again*

kuroo: i was too scared to close my eyes last night

kenma: i was actually able to catch a bunch of pokemon last night. who knew the winchester mansion is such a hotspot

producer: did you catch any evidence of ghosts?

kenma: ...i caught a gastly

bokuto and akaashi:

bokuto is a die-hard mothman fan and akaashi is emotionally involved in proving that ghosts exist he will stop at nothing

akaashi: all of the evidence on the shadow figures and orbs spotted in this place can only suggest one thing...

bokuto: mothman did it

akaashi: no

bokuto: yes

akaashi: mothman is literally five states away

bokuto: he has wings

during their individual investigations, akaashi has already foreseen how bokuto is going to react

producer: it’s been quiet for a while. do you think bokuto’s no longer scared?

akaashi: oh no. he should be screaming right about now...

bokuto, inside the haunted house: *screams and waves his flashlight around*

akaashi:  and then he’s gonna call for help

bokuto: AKAAAAAASHIIIIIIIIII

*few hours later*

bokuto: i saw my life flash before my eyes in there

akaashi: *muttering incoherently near his ‘evidence wall’ full of blurry pictures and red string*

bokuto: i must’ve stared into the abyss at one point

akaashi: this place is fucking haunted. can i go back? it’s for sale right?

ushijima and tendou:

ushijima’s knowledge of ghosts is based on hollywood movies and tendou has exorcised places just by vibing

ushijima: *brings out a pottery wheel* if there are any ghosts in here, you know what to do

he’s actually never watched Ghost he just knows That One Scene

tendou: *naruto-running through the goatman bridge with a go-pro strapped to his head* IT’S MY BRIDGE GOATMAN, IT’S MY BRIDGE!!!

the Goatman Himself: i’ve never felt so fucking scared in my entire fucking life

ushijima believes that chanting in latin will Summon the Ghosts and tendou takes full advantage of that

tendou: *handing ushijima a slip of paper* here, apparently this will summon a full-bodied apparition

ushijima: thanks *begins chanting*

producer, interviewing tendou to the side: okay, what did you make him read this time?

tendou: i typed out ‘let me eat your ass’ in latin on google translate and went from there

cameraman: *zooms in on ushijima chanting*

the ghost haunting the castle: *is confused in French*

in the end neither of them get evidence on ghosts

ushijima: well, we'll have better luck next time

tendou: maybe even revisit this place ?

the ghosts: i know i'm dead but this is the first time i've been scared for my life

[EDIT: for more buzzfeed unsolved au content written by me, check out The Search for the Mysterious Mothman, a headcanon set feat. bokuaka]

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! buzzfeed unsolved AU #kagehina #tsukkiyama #daisuga #tananoya #kuroken #bokuaka #ushitendou #kageyama tobio #hinata shoyo #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #tanaka ryuunosuke #nishinoya imagine #bokuto kotaro #akaashi keiji #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #ushijima wak #tendo satori

[marauderundercover]

Day 6: Party

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE 

Continuation of days two and three

Marinette grins at her reflection in the mirror. The costume was perfect- close enough to the original that you could tell who she was, but also with her own touch so that she didn’t hate looking at the costume. She’d even curled her hair slightly. The knock at the front door makes her squeal in excitement, knowing exactly who it is. 

“Cass!” She cheers, opening the door and grinning widely at her best friend. Sure, Cass didn’t talk a lot (she was like Luka in that way), but she always seemed to know when Marinette needed help out of her own head. And she was eternally grateful for that. She was even more grateful that Cass had agreed to do a duo costume with her since Jason apparently didn’t want to dress up. He was ‘too old’ or something. Well, Marinette wanted to have fun and wear a damn costume. 

“The suit is amazing! I’m not sure the cowl I made will be good enough for it.” Marinette says worriedly, examining the stitches on Cass’ costume. “Where’d you say you got this?” She asks, frowning. It was definitely higher quality than the Halloween store downtown. Cass just smiles, the one that basically says ‘not telling’. Mari just grins, used to it by now. She passes the cowl to Cass and grabs her own domino mask, sliding it on. Posing next to Cass in the full length mirror, Marinette takes a picture and sends it to the group chat that Jason had recently added her to. Dropping her phone into her purse and grabbing her keys, she turns to Cass. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

“Ready.” Cass says. Marinette grins. Look out, Gotham, Batman and Robin are out on the town. 

---

Dick squeals as the picture comes through on the groupchat. He was beyond relieved that Jagged had scheduled his Halloween party two weeks before the actual holiday. It meant that he, and the rest of his brothers, could actually go instead of being on the extra patrols they always had to schedule around the holiday. Grinning, he opens twitter. 

@flyingrayson

Look at my little sisters! Aren’t they the cutest?! #halloween #Waynefam #jaggedstone

[image description: One girl stands with a hand on her hip, dressed in what is obviously a spin on a Robin costume, including: a domino mask, black tights, dark red tunic with a Robin logo, gold belt, knee high emerald boots, and a dual sided cape black on the outside and gold on the inside. Another girl stands next to her with her arms crossed over her chest, dressed in what is obviously a Batman costume, including: black catsuit, yellow utility belt, black cape, and a redesigned black cowl.]

---

Marinette pecks Jason’s cheek and grins. 

“What, not a Robin fan?” She asks teasingly at his frown. He huffs. 

“Not really. More of a...Red Hood guy.” He says, and she snorts. 

“Of course you’d like the one with guns.” She says, shaking her head with a smile. “His costume is actually probably one of my favorites. Well, besides the whole helmet thing.” Jason grins, pulling her in and giving her a sweet kiss before he glances behind her and groans. 

“My brothers just walked in.” He says and she smiles. 

“Go say hi, I’ve gotta go ask Uncle Jagged a question really quick. I’ll be right back and Cass and I can show your brothers our awesome costumes in person.” She says, pecking his cheek before walking away. She looks around for Jagged, but frowns when she doesn’t see him in the main room. Pulling out her phone, she sends him a quick text asking where he is. 

In the garden with Fang!!!!!!!

She shakes her head fondly. Of course he skipped out on his own party to spend time with his crocodile. Smiling, she heads out to the garden to try and get to him. She’d wanted to see if the man planned on being in the US around Thanksgiving. Bruce had already invited her (probably to get Jason to show up) and said she could invite any of her family as well. Since her parents and superhero partner were both dead and her grandparents didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, she decided she’d really love Jagged and Penny to come instead. As she walks outside, she’s shocked that Fang doesn’t immediately run up to her. 

“Uncle Jagged?” She calls, frowning. Where was he? And why was it so dark out here? Fang was scared of the dark. Jagged never would have brought him outside without more lights on, he was too protective of him. She tenses when she notices a slumped figure next to the bench Jagged had put in the gardens for when she visits. It was one of her favorite places to sit and design. 

“Hello?” She calls, watching the figure for any movement. Seeing none, she steps closer and her stomach drops. Immediately she runs over and checks her Uncle for a pulse. She sighs in relief when she feels it, but the gash on his head is worrisome. How-

“Hello, Birdie!” An amused voice rings behind her, making her blood run cold. She whirls around and manages to catch a glimpse of the man’s pale face before a thick piece of metal flies at her head and the world goes black. 

---

“Jaybird! Where’s Mari and Cass? They’re blowing up on twitter, even MDC liked my tweet!” Dick says happily, making Jason scowl. 

“Did you seriously post my girlfriend all over your twitter?” He asks grumpily. Dick nods. 

“Oh yeah. Her and Cass looked too cute to keep it to ourselves. Where are they anyway?” Dick asks, scanning the room. 

“M said she needed to go talk to her Uncle about something. Personally, I think she was just avoiding you guys. You all crowd her every time you see her.” Jason reprimands, crossing his arms. Replacement rolls his eyes. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s so much cooler than you. And she’s not an asshole like you are.” He says. 

“Something’s wrong.” Cass says, suddenly appearing at Jason’s side. He jumps slightly, but then frowns at her. 

“What?” He asks, surprised to see the deep scowl form on her face. 

“Don’t know.” She huffs. 

“Well if Cassandra believes that something is wrong, we should investigate.” Damian says, looking relieved that he wouldn’t be asked to socialize with anyone. A startled scream from outside makes the five vigilantes tense before running towards the noise. Jason curses when he realizes it’s Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone’s….something. She’s kneeling by a slumped figure, shaking it until a groan escapes it. Jason feels his blood run cold when the figure’s hair catches the light. It’s Jagged. Then where-

“Where’s she? Where’s she at?” Jagged slurs out, blinking wildly. 

“Who?” Penny asks, gently holding the man’s face. Jason frowns at the gash. 

“M. He wanted ‘er.” He says, and though the man is looking around crazily and slurring his words, Jason can tell he’s completely serious. And M-

“Do you mean Marinette?” Jason asks, stepping forward. Jagged frowns, but nods. 

“Crazy clown.” He adds before turning and throwing up in the grass. Jason growls and turns on his heel, ready to go hunt the damned clown down. Out of everyone in this damned city that he could’ve targeted, why did he choose her?

“Jason, wait.” Dick says, grabbing his wrist. “We need to have a plan. Come on. You can’t just go out like this.” He reminds him lowly, Jason’s eyes narrow but he follows anyway. Might as well use the good tools. That fucking clown won’t make it to morning. 

---

Ice cold water falls over her and Marinette sits up, gasping in shock at the sudden temperature change. 

“Little cold, Birdie?” A voice asks before walking around and standing in front of her- a huge smile on his face and a thick piece of metal in his hands.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Marinette says, trying not to let her voice shake. This was the villain. The one she never wanted to meet. The one that gave her boyfriend nightmares that he couldn’t explain to her. And now she was alone with him. 

“If you’re sure, we could have some...fun before Batsy arrives.” He laughs. 

“Why would Batman show up?” She asks. “You do realize this is just a Halloween costume, right?” She flinches as the piece of metal- a crowbar, she thinks shakily- stops inches in front of her face.

“How stupid do you think I am? Of course it’s a costume. A costume posted by one Dick Grayson. You’re a Wayne, somehow. And Batsy always shows up when a Wayne is involved.” Joker says, his twisted grin making her sick to her stomach. 

“I’m not a Wayne! Batman isn’t going to come for me.” She argues, cursing her decision to not wear her earrings today. Some days were harder than others, especially leaving in a mask. Even if the mask was a costume. Every time she tried to put on her earrings today, she shook and started to panic. Granted, it was probably for the best. Because she would definitely be tempted to transform and she did not want to give Joker that kind of knowledge. 

“Wayne or not, one of the bats will come. You have friends in very high places, Birdie.” Joker tuts, twirling the crowbar in his hand. She flinches as it nears her face, making Joker laugh. “If I wanted to hit you, I would.” He says. She doesn’t even have time to figure out what he means because her shoulder explodes in pain. The pain is blinding and she wants to scream but no sound will come out of her mouth as she gasps for breath. 

“That’s no good. A silent bird is a dead bird. So sing, Birdie.” Joker demands, and he aims slightly lower this time, shattering her left arm. And she screams. The pain tearing at her throat nothing compared to the pain in her arm, her shoulder. She sobs, the shaking making the pain worse, but she was unable to stop. It hurt. 

“S-stop!” She manages to yell, nearly biting her tongue when Joker grabs her chin and forces her to look up at him. 

“Hmm. You’re right! The internet should definitely see this.” He laughs, pulling a phone out. She shakes her head, flinching as he whacks the crowbar against the floor near her chair. He points the phone at her, and she knows he’s recording. The bastard. 

“Hello Gotham! Look at this little Birdie. I’m afraid she flew too far, and now we have to clip her wings.” He says, sighing as if he’s actually apologetic. He sets his phone up on the table and stalks over to her before turning and waving at the camera. She watches him move the crowbar around warily, her breathing shaky. God, she hoped Jason wasn’t watching this. Hoped he was somewhere safe, not trying to go do something stupid. She winces as Joker acts like he’s about to hit her, only to stop before the crowbar actually connects with her good arm.

“I told you, I’d only hit you if I wanted to.” He chuckles. 

“Go to hell.” She spits out, ignoring the voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like Tikki) telling her to shut up. To not antagonize the crazy man with the crowbar. 

“Gladly.” He says with a grin, rearing back and swinging the crowbar out to hit her in the ribs. Her scream echoes around the room and she has no time to catch her breath before he’s attacking her ribs again. Tears stream down her face, but she can’t scream, she can’t even catch her breath. I’m going to die, she thinks, and the thought is terrifying. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. 

---

“Do we have a fucking location or am I about to go shoot up every goddamned warehouse in this city?” Jason growls as he zips through the streets on his bike. He knew Babs and Alfred were back at the cave, watching the livestream and working to locate Marinette. And even though he couldn’t see the video, the audio playing through the comms was enough to make his stomach churn. 

He didn’t give one singular fuck what Bruce said. He was going to kill that goddamned clown the minute he saw him. 

---

Marinette glares at the Joker, barely able to keep her head up. For some unknown reason, he’d decided to use his fists on her face instead of the crowbar. Not that she was complaining. She wouldn’t have survived multiple hits to the head. Not with the force he had. She watches him, and she knows he’s saying something, but she can’t tell what it is. She’s too tired, too hurt, to care what he’s saying anyway. Unless it’s some magical cure to stop her from feeling like she’s broken into a million pieces, she doesn’t want to hear it. 

Eyes wandering behind him, she’s relieved when she notices the costumed figure. The cowl, the cape- Batman did come. How strange. Though, she had assumed that Joker was live streaming. So that could definitely explain that one. Deciding she was out of immediate danger, she lets her eyes droop shut, reveling in the darkness that surrounds her. She let’s it stay, and she can feel things slipping away, some of the pain lessening. It’s nice, until someone is poking her and talking much too close to her. She lets out a whine as the person forces her eyes open. 

“‘m tired.” She mumbles, wincing at the pain that comes with breathing, with talking. 

“I know, kid, god I know. Just keep your eyes open.” A voice says. She blinks, the blue marks on the suit in front of her helping her to identify the vigilante. 

“Couldn’t fight.” She spits out, tears springing to her eyes as her attempt at conversation makes her chest ache. 

“But you’re fighting now, you’re staying awake. You’re doing such a good job, I’m proud of you. Stay awake kiddo.” Nightwing says quietly. She vaguely feels the ropes slide off her wrists and ankles. Fighting to stay sitting up, because slumping will hurt more than she’s willing to allow, she sighs. 

“Jason’s gonna worry.” She mumbles, and Nightwing hums. 

“Ambulance is almost here, kid, just stay awake.” He says instead of asking about Jason. She hopes Jason is okay. Hopes he isn’t mad at himself for letting her go talk to Jagged alone. Suddenly, sirens are close and she lets the world finally slip away.

---

The pain is the first thing that clues her in. She isn’t dead. Which is a relief. But the way her entire body aches, is not a relief. Forcing her eyes open, she sighs at Jason’s slumped form in a chair next to her bed. She wished she knew how long she’d been in the hospital so she could scold him. Because he was still wearing the outfit he had on at the party. Which meant he hadn’t given himself a break. Just as she’s trying to decide how to ask the nurses for pain medicine, Jason’s eyes open. 

“Marinette!” He gasps, starting to lunge forward, then stopping himself. “I thought, god, M, I thought-”

“‘m okay.” She says softly, and he frowns. 

“Okay? You were nearly beaten to death with a goddamned crowbar. You’re not okay.” He argues. She sighs. 

“I’m alive, and I’m with you. I’m okay.” She insists, wincing. He looks like he still wants to argue, but stops himself. He scoots closer and holds her hand, kissing the back of it softly. 

“I’ll never leave you.” He promises. She smiles softly, before falling back asleep, finally safe.

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess 

#angst #maribat #maribat oneshot #jasonette #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat jason todd #maribat joker #maribathalloween21 #maribat dick grayson #maribat tim drake #maribat batman #maribat damian wayne

[strangelysamantha]

cheerleader ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: swearing, flirting, slight angst in the beginning (barely)

words: 2,365.

summary: rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

request? no :)

a/n: please like and comment if you enjoy! thank you, ilysm <3

my masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

most things rafe wanted, he easily got. it was a known fact. his parents were financially stable so they could afford to throw money down the drain for useless items that wouldn’t be used more than once. his popularity and name allowed him to get away with most things. except you. you seemed to not care about his wealth or his looks. you didn’t even care to give him the time of day. he took this as a challenge. he was destined to get you to like him if it was the last thing he did.

the first time he talked to you was during school. he thought his charm and popularity would make you swoon. instead, it was quite the opposite. he approached you at your locker, his smile bright. “hey. i’m rafe.” he extended his hand out to you. “hello, rafe.” you shake his hand back, before retreating your hand to your side. you stare at him in confusion. “uhm am i in the way of your locker?” you question, he shakes his head. “oh no, actually. i just wanted to introduce myself to you.” you nod your head. “well rafe, it was nice to meet you, i guess. but i’m running late for class.” you shut your locker, speeding off to class.

rafe stayed by your locker in awe. you really thought rafe was just waiting to get to his locker? it’s halfway through the school year, if his locker was by yours, you would have known by now. he embarrassingly walked away, heading to his first class. that awkward moment was lingering in his head, stuck on replay. your facial expression that showcased confusion stayed still in his mind. by third hour he was over it, not as embarrassed. he shrugged it off, excited to try again.

rafe actually didn’t know that much about you. he saw you in the halls occasionally. his interest in you peaked when he saw that you talked to topper a lot. since you were heavily associated with topper, he believed that it would be easy to befriend you. it’s clear to him now that isn’t the case. he can’t help but feel surprised at your lack of knowledge for him. everyone knows of rafe, and you should especially know because of how well you know topper.

regardless, rafe knew what he had to do. he needed to see topper, and investigate him. rafe pulled his phone out, texting topper to meet him.

topper met rafe in the boy’s bathroom before fourth period. they scoped the bathroom, ensuring to themselves that they could openly talk since they were alone. rafe didn’t hesitate, he immediately bombarded topper with questions about you. “what’s with the sudden interest?” topper asks, confused.

“i don’t know, i keep seeing her in the hallway and she stares at me.” topper nods, “well she does good academically, i know her because her family is friends with my family, she’s on the cheerleading team, i don’t know man. what info are you wanting?” the cheerleading team. rafe smiled to himself, you are a cheerleader. “that’s good enough, i just needed some info so i could know if i want to meet her or not.” topper laughed, “alright man. i gotta go.” rafe nodded, “see you later.” topper fist bumped rafe before walking out the bathroom.

you were a cheerleader? he had no clue. it dawned on him, if he had no idea of who you were, why would you know who he was? he shook his head at the thought, instead heading to class.

on the other side of the school sat you, fidgeting with your pencil as you struggled to keep up with the current notes. the interaction you had with rafe was confusing you. why did he suddenly want to meet you? it didn’t make sense. the whole class period you tried to wrap your brain around his actions, trying to figure out what his intention was, but you fell short.

at lunch time you sat at a table, you usually sat with friends but they were absent. it didn’t help they were absent the one day someone popular randomly takes an interest in you. you sit on the chair, pulling out your math homework. if you knocked it out at lunch, you had a high chance of not having homework. you start the first problem, but immediately halt when your family friend, topper, taps on your shoulder. “hi tops.” you smile softly at him, setting your pencil down and turning your attention to him. he smiles at you, “hey.”

you pick up a goldfish, plopping it into your mouth. “how have you been?” you question topper. he shrugs, “same old same old. family is still upset with me, per usual.” you nod, soaking up what he said. “dang, that sucks. it’s so annoying how people hold grudges. they don’t know how to forgive and forget.” you shrug, smiling up at him. he returns the smile, “i know right.” you place your homework back in your bag, assuming you wouldn’t be able to finish it during lunch.

“what did you even do?” you ask him. he smiles, “uh i accidentally pissed a pogue off so they got revenge by sinking my new boat.” your eyes widened, “what! holy shit you must have fucked up bad.” he frowns, “i didn’t really want to do it, you know how tricky it is with our reputation and who we have to associate with.” you laugh, “oh i know all too well of what that’s like.” topper rolls his eyes, assuming you’re talking about him.

“hey! i’m not too bad.” you laugh, “it wasn’t about you. you aren’t bad at all.” you look up, seeing rafe take his backpack off. you glance at topper to see he is confused as well. “hey rafe, what’s up?” topper questions rafe, who had just sat down at our table. “nothing much man, saw you over here and decided to join.” you laugh sarcastically, “inviting yourself to our private party?” you question, slightly joking. rafe felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy when you grouped yourself and topper together.

“i’m just kidding rafe… kind of.” you grin, topper joining in by chuckling with you. rafe awkwardly laughs along. he pulls himself together, thinking of things to say. “are you going to the football game tomorrow?” rafe waits for your response. you smile slightly, “yeah, but i’m a cheerleader so i’ll be on field.” he nods, “oh, that’s cool.” you nod awkwardly. “yeah.” he smiles subconsciously, excited to see you in a uniform. his smile disintegrates when topper confronts him. “what are you smiling for bro?” rafe stared at him, unamused. “nothing.” topper scoffs, “alright then.”

you steal looks between rafe and topper, still confused. you don’t ask any questions, you just continue eating your food. the bell rings, indicating that lunch is over. you gather up your trash, standing up. you notice rafes eyes lingering over your body. his eyes fixating between your thick thighs, and hips. you feel self conscious under his stare, so you quickly stand up and walk to the trash can. rafe follows after you, quick on his feet. he comes up to your side, much to your dismay.

“will i see you at the game tomorrow?” you turn your head to the side, “are you going to the game?” you return. he nods, “yeah.” you smile, “then you’ll probably see me.” he grins, “okay, cool.” he quickly turns around, leaving you by yourself. you were confused still, but hey, maybe having rafe as a friend would be good.

you got through the day quickly, heading immediately home. you work on homework, chores, and finally get ready for bed. before bed you prepare your uniform. you set it out, along with a jacket so you weren’t on full display at school. you wake up the next morning, putting on your uniform, along with a bow in your hair. you head to school, slightly nervous for your possible interaction with rafe.

when you arrive at school, you don’t see rafe. you only saw topper, who was eagerly heading in your direction. he smiled, standing still in front of you. “hey, good morning!” you smile, “hi tops.” the two of you talk for a bit, him walking you to class. “can i pick you up before the game?” topper asks. “sure, it has to be a little earlier than the fans. i have warm ups and stuff i have to do before the game.” he grins, “okay! just text me tonight when you want me to pick you up.” you put your hands in your jacket pocket. “okay, thanks topper!”

he walks away, and you walk into your first hour class. you go through your classes as usual, rafe not showing up. you couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or relieved, but either way it didn’t matter, you had a game you had to prepare for. you do your make up, and touch up your hair. you chug water, and began stretching. you text topper, saying he could pick you up now, if he still wanted to drive you. his response was quick and enthusiastic.

topper pulls up to your house, his music loud, and a large smile plastered on his face. “game day!!” you laugh along, repeating his words. “game day!” you open his door, hopping inside. “let’s go!” you playfully roll your eyes at his eagerness, “to the school!” topper smirks, stepping on the gas, and speeding out your driveway.

the two of you sing along to the songs on the radio, before it abruptly ends due to you two arriving at the school. he decides to stay in his car, planning on joining right when the official game starts. you skip down the field, joining your teammates. you stretch with them, before you practice the chants and dance numbers.

at six thirty, they start allowing people in. you immediately see topper hunched over the fence, him waving frantically at you. you wave back, jogging over to him. “you ready?” he asks, you bite your lip, “i guess.” he laughs at your nerves, excited for you. you glance over and see rafe. he hadn’t seen you yet. your breath gets caught in your throat, slightly scared and self conscious to see him.

topper gives you reassuring words, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice rafe had found you. rafe slowly makes his way towards topper, keeping his cool. rafe stares at you in your cheerleading uniform. his breath gets heavy, he stares, watching you talk to topper. jealously fills his chest, of course topper was here first. rafe quickly approached the two of you, eager to break the conversation up.

“hi rafe.” you smile softly, looking up at him. he smiles, “hey. good luck today.” you fiddle with your fingers, “thank you.” rafe stays silent. you hear the coaches whistle. “i got to go, i’ll talk to you when i can!” you quickly turn around, jogging back to the cheerleading circle.

rafe watches as you jog away, hes mesmerized by how well the uniform fit. he knew you would look good, but damn. he looks over at topper, who makes eye contact with him. “what’s up rafe?” topper stares at rafe, waiting for an explanation. “she is so hot.” topper scoffs, “bro, already whipped?” rafe rolls his eyes, but grins. “for her, yeah. i’d willingly be whipped.” the two boys sit on the bench, topper watching the game, and rafe watching you.

after sitting in silence, rafe speaks up. “do you think she likes me?” topper quickly glances at rafe, trying to see if he was joking or if he was serious. when topper saw he was serious, he genuinely contemplated it. “id say maybe, i mean she doesn’t shrivel up in disgust when you are around. that’s a pretty good sign.” rafe shook his head, “that’s true. that is a good sign.”

rafe admired you, you getting his full attention. on break you rush to the fence, excited to see rafe and topper. “hey!” you look up at them, “you are doing great!” topper reached down, highfiving you. “thanks!” you look over at rafe, something took you over because he actually looked hot. you bit you lip slightly, you were going to say something, but rafe beat you to it. “you look good.” rafe smirked slightly, causing heat to rise to your face. “thank you, rafe.”

you return to the group again, your heart racing. the idea of rafe made your breath heavy. you continue to chant, and preform. you occasionally looked up rafe, his eyes always focused on you. you had a low chance of being able to go to the fence again, so you focused entirely on perfecting the choreography. the crowd was cheering loudly, your hometown winning the game.

at the final quarter, your hometown won by one point. your team jumps up and down, ecstatic. you preform a final show, before you break apart. you chug water. you rush in line with the other cheerleaders, going in a straight line to high-five the football players. you smile brightly at them, telling them congrats for winning the game. most of them returned a smile, and thanked you.

after the bleachers started to empty, you decided to meet up with topper, and possibly rafe. you look around for topper but he was gone. you turn around, accidentally bumping into rafe. “oh i’m sorry.” he stares at you, “hey, by the way topper left, said he was going on a date with a girl from the cheer team.” you frown, “oh. he was my ride.” rafe smiles, “you can ride me- i mean ride with me.” you laugh lightly at his switch up, “okay. i’ll ride you.” your heart is racing, the after game adrenaline flowing through your veins, which was causing you to be bold. he smirks at you, “okay, i’d enjoy that.” you mimic his smirk, following him to his car.

he turns around, “are you sure?” you nod, “i’m sure, are you?” he is shocked by your question, “so fucking sure.”

part two will be steamy <3

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x cheerleader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron obx imagine #obx fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #writing #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron x plus!reader #rafe cameron x plus reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron story #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst

[honeypirate]

Going Home

Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi / Tokoyami Fumikage x Fem!Reader - Pro Hero AU (in their 20s)

Tokoyami had it bad. He had it so bad he had to bribe dark shadow to keep his mouth shut about it when you would call him. Sure he’s older than he was in high school and has more control over his quirk partner- he could force him to keep his mouth shut, but it feels wrong to force him to do anything when he’s a friend

You met Tokoyami in high school, becoming instant friends and bonding over darkness and crime shows. You even went as scully and mulder one Halloween together. But then you moved to a different country before senior year and he hasn’t been able to physically see you since.

You kept in contact religiously. He was your best friend and you told him you’d die if he doesn’t remain that way. You talk every day whenever you have free time and FaceTime every Monday and Wednesday alternating evenings and mornings for each other whenever hero work allows.

You have a separate conversation going on Snapchat, Instagram, and texts that you both stay on top of. Your Snapchat streak said 1174 and you’d be damned if it ever broke before you got to see him again. And yes, somewhere along the lines, you fell for him, but you’d never tell him. You’d never ruin your friendship like that.

“Remember to pick her up at noon” Dark Shadow said into his mind and he rolled his eyes, like he would ever forget the date and time his best friend would be in his life again. The second his agency was confirmed he extended a contract toward you, a popular new hero who was looking for an agency. A six month contract with abilities to extend should it feel like a good fit.

“Seriously? Not just because I’m your friend? You honest to god think our quirks would work well if I’m your side kick? On the bracelet?” He nods into the phone camera and then looks down at the purple adjustable bracelet you had gotten for him on your last arcade adventure before you moved, a matching black one on your wrist.

“I swear on the bracelet” he said, heart skipping. Yes he knew your quirks would work well together that was true. But he also knew that he was dying to see to again and when you said you only needed a good enough opportunity to move back, he saw a perfect opportunity that fate had handed you both.

Your black bracelet was faded to grey over the years of never taking it off but your heart beat raced in your chest. “Okay” you say with a smile and warm cheeks “I’ll have my agent look over the contract and I’ll give it a serious thought career wise.” Your eyes sparkled and he hoped your agent liked the proposal. His heart racing as you smiled at him like that. God he loved your smile.

“I like it. It would be good for your hero image if you had hero work in other countries as well. Young hero going back home. We can make a good story out of it how you were home sick. It’s also good that it’s with your best friend.” You checked out after she said she liked it. You were going home. You were going home.

You called Tokoyami right away and he answered on almost the last ring. “I’m sorry I just needed to talk to you” you said and took a deep breath as he work up “no it’s fine. It’s always fine when it’s you” his voice was tired and thick and you could only imagine how it would be in person.

“I have some news” you said with a smile and he perked up, sitting up in bed and against his headboard as he looked out his window at the night sky “what is it?” He asks, trying not to feel too excited as the phone presses hard against his ear.

“Guess” you said with a teasing tone and he knew immediately

“Really?” He asks, not being able to hide the excitement in his tone as his empty fist shoots up in celebration

“She said she liked it. It’ll be good for my image” you said with a grin, holding the phone in the crook of your neck as you play with the bracelet you’ve never taken off.

“When?” He asks eagerly

“You should know when Fumi, you made the contract” you joke and he chuckles

“no I know when your first day will be but when are you coming here?” He needs to know how much longer. How much more time will be spent away from you

“A week”

he laughs once out of shock and joy “a week?” He asks and you laugh, joy lacing every part of your voice

“my agent got me a flight and an apartment. The building I asked for already had one open and it was easy peasy. It’ll be furnished for me so I’ll be there next Wednesday at noon. Then I’ll have three weeks there before I start work. With you”

He couldn’t believe it. It went so fast he feels like his heart is spasming. Eight years away from you and only one week to go. “I’ll pick you up text me your itinerary”

“Okay” you say with a laugh and then smirk as you say “you’re not gonna ask where I’m gonna be living?”

“Where?”

“#407” you say and it takes him a moment but he gets there

“You mean six doors down?” He asks and you laugh

“Yeah I hope you don’t mind. I just thought it would be fun” you feel nervous like he’s not gonna like it, your palms sweat

“That’s amazing I’m so happy” he says and you grin “really? You don’t mind I’m living in your building?”

“Why would I mind? The best person in my life is going to be my neighbor. I can’t wait”

You hear his alarm go off and gasp “I’m sorry Fumi I didn’t mean to ruin your sleep”

He laughs “you didn’t. Trust me. But I do have to go to work. To get things set for you to be here.”

“Okay. I’ll text you. Be safe today Fumi”

—

His hands feel sweaty as he stands at the gates. Jesus. Was this even a good idea? Fuck he was so nervous. Your plan had landed he was just waiting for the doors to open. When the fight attendants opened the door he felt dark shadow getting nervous as well.

But then he saw you, a hat on your head and sunglasses on to try and stay inconspicuous in American airports but since you were here now you took them off and ran your hand through your hair before scanning the room.

Fuck you were so beautiful his mouth was dry. You were so cute in pictures and face time but it had nothing on you in person. You were an angel. This was a bad idea he was too in love to do this.

Your eyes meet his and you smile wide, your hat and glasses in one hand and a water bottle in the other as you start making your way to each other. You started off walking and weaving around the slow walkers but once you had space you couldn’t stop increasing your speed before you were running for him, your water bottle clanging to the ground as you dropped everything and threw off your backpack to slam into his strong arms, laughing as tears fall into his neck as you bury your face into him.

“Hey Fumi” you whispered and held you tighter. You smelled amazing. Like fresh air and rosemary. He couldn’t get enough. He held you tight to his chest and realized you felt smaller in his arms but then he realized when you left he was 5’5 and tiny. He’s grown a lot since then and even though you have changed too, he’s still a much larger man than he was before.

He dwarfed you. You never thought it was even possible. He held you completely and you never wanted him to let go. “Fumikage” you say as you pull back, making sure he keeps his arms around your waist. You reach up and run your hand down his long feathers down the back of his head “you’re much larger in person holy crap. and your feathers are so beautiful!!! Fumi!!. I forgot the beautiful shades in the darkness of the black. How are you still single Fumi you must be dripping with fans” You joked but your heart hurt saying it. You wanted to hear him say he wasn’t dating. That he has feelings for you.

He looks down at you and feels pride swell in his heart as you praise him, controlling the urge to fluff out his feathers when you call them beautiful.

“No one wants to date a fan” he says shutting down your investigative prodding at his love life, but then says “You’re one to talk you’ve changed so much but I didn’t even know it was possible to be this gorgeous. Don’t think I didn’t read about America’s most eligible bachelorette.”

Your cheeks flush with heat and you hide your face in his neck “oh hush Fumi. Always flustering me. Like you haven’t FaceTimed me every week. And that article was a joke” he sighs softly and you can see emotions swirling in his eyes.

“It’s different in person” he says and you sigh as you gaze up at him with a smile “it certainly is”

Once dark shadow decided to ruin the moment you remembered you were still in the airport. Fumi carried your big suitcase like it wasn’t a hundred pounds and before you could object dark shadow had your backpack across his back. Dark Shadow just laughed when you stuck your tongue out at him. “we’ve really missed you” he said when he handed you your water, your glasses and hat already on his body

—

You fall back into an easy rhythm with Fumikage, teasing and playing while talking in his car back to the apartment. After laughing so hard and catching your breath, you look over at his profile and your heart skips. The sun is hitting his feathers, his black button up shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck pulled at his biceps as his right hand rests against the shifter and his left hand was on the steering wheel. God you didn’t know if this was a good idea. You thought you were going back to your childhood home but being with Fumikage nothing has felt more like home than this.

“The boxes you sent over should be here in the next few days. If you need anything or don’t have something you can always come over, I have a spare key for emergencies” he’s going over a few things that it seems like he’s really thought about before you came. He was prepared and it warmed your heart. You smiled up at him as the elevator dinged for the fourth floor and he looked down at you eyes widening as he catches you staring. you smile and reach out, taking a gentle hold on his free hand near you and give it a soft squeeze. “Thank you Fumi. You think of everything. I’ve really missed that”

He doesn’t let go of your hand until he has to unlock his front door, you’d be staying the night with him and your agent was meeting you in the morning with the keys for your place.

his fingers tingle to grab for your hand again but he doesnt

“You can have my room, I’ll take the couch in my office. It’s a pull out.” You smile from your place standing on the landing just inside the door, watching as he disappears with your luggage down a hallway then comes back walking a little slower and playing with his hands like he does when he’s nervous.

The edge of the landing went down a couple steps and he stopped at the bottom edge “feel free make yourself at your home” he says with a nervous chuckle and you grin, running and jumping off the landing into his arms and burying your face in his shoulder.

“Oh Fumi eight years was too long” you whispered into him and he holds you up effortlessly, his beak brushing your shoulder and he curves into you, desperate to hold you after so long “way too long” he agreed.

———

The weeks seemed to fly by, you were settled into your apartment and you just got done with your first official week at the office.

“So, Tsukuyomi, Sir” you say with a smirk and lean against his open office door “how was my first day boss?”

He crosses his arms over his wide chest and gave you his best Boss look, making your heart flutter and causing your cheeks to heat up. you chuckled and tried not to show how flustered you were when you walked farther into his office. He stood from his desk and gave you a nod with a soft chuckle “you did well. I think you’re going to love it here. Let me take you to dinner tonight to celebrate”

——

He showed up at your door at seven and your breath catches in your throat when you see him. Black straight jeans with a black button up tucked in with a red tie and black boots. He looked divine. Like a god of the underdark. His hands were fixing his tie and you stepped forward, not missing the squeak of his own breath catching in his throat at the sight of you, and fixed his tie for him.

You had on a red dress and a black jean jacket that has rolled sleeves and pair of black booties that look like you could kick someone’s ass in them. His brain immediately short wired and all he can think is how well you look together. How right. How good. Fuck this was going to be harder than he thought to just be your friend but he didn’t want to you to think he was a sleaze or make you quit his agency.

Your hands fix his tie and then rest against his chest, when you see his flustered eyes and nervous body language you chuckle and lean up, kissing his beak gently, then wiping the lipstick with your thumb “you look really handsome Fumi” you say softly and he feels a whimper catch in his throat.

your eyes turn from him up to Dark Shadow who had on a matching tie “is it too much?” He asks and you laugh “you look good in it but I do think you pull off natural look best” he nods and salutes you “message received” before taking it off and tossing it into your apartment behind you.

When you look back to Fumi he’s glaring at Dark Shadow like he was a bad child and you chuckled before boldly taking his hand, hoping you read the signs right and that he did feel the same.

“Are you ready?” You ask and he nods, his fingers tighten around your hand as he relaxes, giving you a soft squeeze before placing your hand on his bicep and holding you close as he cleared his throat “I got a reservation at this new restaurant downtown” he says as you enter the elevator and you smile up at him “anywhere with you is perfect”

Dinner went by incredibly quick, you sat in a back booth, talking and laughing the whole night. It was a new restaurant that catered to people with any kinds of quirks and had surprisingly good tofu and fish. (I mean who’s gonna get the chicken on date with a bird?)

By the end of the meal he’s grabbed your hand over the table and is running his fingers against yours softly. “Thank you for tonight Fumi, I really feel like being here was the right choice. I would have came no matter what my agent said” his eyes widened a little

“Really?” He asks and you laugh with a grin “of course! You’re special to me and I just needed a good reason to come back home” your expression was so soft he felt those three words crawl up his tongue.

His eyes look serious for a moment as he looks at the way your hands look together “y/n I need to tell you something” he says and gets extra serious

“What is it?” You ask, trying to keep your voice neutral even tho you know your face screams ‘I’m worried now’

He meets your eye for a few long seconds before he shakes his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t ruin this close friendship when he wasnt positive his feelings would be returned. “Never mind. It’s not that important. What do you say about dessert?”

He was leaning on the table on his elbows, close enough to reach out and touch over the tiny table, and so you did. You reach up and ran your fingers lightly over the edges of his feathers with a soft smile. “Of course Fumi. But how about we go to the cookie place by the park you always talk about. I know you like it and it’s a perfect night for a walk.” He swallows hard and nods “that’s a perfect idea” he says as he signals for the waiter to pay.

You hold his hand all the way to the cookie place, talking easily and joking around, but you keep hoping for the perfect moment to confess. You had a feeling that’s what he was going to do at the restaurant, it changed your heart and convinced you to take the leap, almost positive he felt the same.

You sit on a bench in the park, one with perfect view of the city skyline, eating your cookies and dark shadow is teasing you about the time you kept stealing Tokoyami’s poptarts from the dorm kitchen. Your cheeks are hot and you’ve turned yourself towards Tokoyami, your left hand on your cheek and your face hidden in his shoulder as you laughed together, your right hand rested on his kid thigh. It felt so easy. So absolutely right.

You drop your hand from your cheek and look up at Tokoyami with a soft smile, heart racing at the emotion you find in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for stealing your poptarts” you say and his throat catches again at the way your eyes seem to shine with love for him he almost feels it’s too much but he wants to dive deeper, to drown in the love he finds.

He chuckles and cups your cheek “I never cared. I had the hugest crush on you then”

Your heart skips and your cheek heats even more under his touch “and now?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper

“Now I’m so in love I don’t know if it’s even quantifiable” he says with a hint of exasperation as he leans down and presses his forehead to yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as your heart thrums against your ribs, his confession echoing in your head as fireworks explode in your heart. You press a kiss on his beak and your heart skips when you hear a gasp catch in his throat

“I’m in love with you too, Fumi” you say and he pulls you into a hug, nuzzling his beak into your neck, wanting to get close to you to show you how much he loves you the best he can since he can’t properly kiss you.

He nips softly at your neck skin and you giggle so sweetly he feels light headed. You pull back and kiss his cheek before looking into his eyes. He cups your cheek again “that’s what I wanted to say back at the restaurant”

You chuckle and smile, taking his hand you press gentle kisses against his palm, trailing a few down to his wrist before saying with a smirk “I know”

#tokoyami fanfiction #tokoyami x you #tokoyami imagine #tokoyami fluff #tokoyami x y/n #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami fukimage #mha tokoyami #mha fluff #mha fanfiction #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha fumikage #bnha tokoyami #mha fumikage

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent 

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[frostedfaves]

Delicate

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: Rosa works a murder case to prove your innocence, inspired by this

Warnings: mentions of murder, infidelity, poorly written casework

A/N: I have only one wish: feedback on this bit of chaos here.

-

At this point in Rosa’s life, there were only three things that brought her memorable pain.

The first was being sent to juvie after snapping under the weight of her parents' expectations.

The second was being released from juvie and realizing the two people who’d played a part in her downfall no longer gave a shit about what happened to her.

The third was seeing you, sitting beside Boyle’s desk in handcuffs.

Of course, she didn’t let anyone see this as she attempted to make her way to her own desk undetected, but you wouldn’t--couldn’t--let her think you were a criminal.

“Rosa--”

“Detective Diaz,” she growled as she walked past with her head held high, surprising herself by restraining from hurting you when you grabbed a fistful of her jacket. “Let me go--”

“I was framed!” you cried out with tears filling your eyes as you raised them to meet hers. “Please. I know you don’t have to believe me, but I’m begging you. I’m the same person you’ve spoken to all these nights. I’ll tell you everything, just...please.”

Her stance was rigid as her mind focused on your fearful expression and the desperate way you clung to her, as if you knew the moment you let go, everything you’d had the last few months was over. Realizing everyone’s eyes were on the two of you as you stared each other down, she roughly pulled herself away to walk over to her desk and deposit her bag and helmet. Your hands dropped into your lap in defeat, only to rise again when Rosa pulled you to your feet by the piece of metal holding your wrists together and led you into an interrogation room.

“Talk,” she ordered once the door was closed and you were seated at the table.

“Early this morning, they found the body of one of the supervisors at my job. Apparently he was killed last night and one of my coworkers pointed the blame toward me, saying that I wanted his position and tried to force him to retire early.”

“You were with me last night. I mean, unless you killed the guy after our call.” She met your widened eyes and sighed. “Sorry.”

“I just don’t know what to do. I know it probably looks bad because I actually am up for a promotion, I had a meeting about it a few days ago. But I’d never kill anyone! I swear I wouldn’t, and I really hope that--”

“I believe you.” She slipped into the chair across from you and squeezed your hands briefly before pulling away again. “And not just because I want to believe that I’m not falling for some power-hungry murderer, but because I trust you not to lie to me.”

A soft smile formed on your lips but a knock sounded at the door before you could respond. You watched her stand and approach the door again to open it, growing nervous again when you saw one of the detectives that arrested you. 

“Holt’s out today, so Sarge is running the briefing and he needs you there too. It’s about this case.”

“Fine.” She faced you again with her hand still holding the door open. “I’ll be back. Just breathe.”

Rosa followed Charles out of the room and down to the briefing room, cutting off any questions he began to ask with a sharp “no”. They were the last to arrive, everyone else seated and looking at Terry standing in front of a board holding some of the case details.

“I’m putting myself on this case,” she announced before anyone else could speak as she approached the board to read over everything.

“Don’t you think you’re too close to this, Rosa?” Charles questioned carefully, yelping at the expression she offered him in response. “I meant to say ‘welcome to the team’!”

“Boyle’s right, Diaz,” Terry spoke up next as she turned away from the board. “What was that in the bullpen?”

“Innocent until proven guilty.” She walked over to sit on one of the tables in front. “Go on.”

“Alright.” He looked down at the notes he’d obtained before entering the room. “So according to the medical examiner, the time of death is set around 9:17pm last night--”

“Y/N didn’t do it,” Rosa quickly interjected. “A camera in the lobby of her building will verify her entering a few minutes before then, and she doesn’t leave after that.”

“Rosa, I know you don’t want your friend to get in trouble, but this--”

“I was with her.” She took a deep breath to prepare herself for not only spilling the secret of her unconfirmed relationship, but to essentially come out as bisexual for the first time ever. “We were in the park together with our dogs and I walked her home after. I know it was 9:15 when we got there because the huge clock in her lobby said 10:15, and it’s been an hour ahead since Daylight Savings Time. I was at her door for a few minutes and when I was leaving, the clock said 10:20.”

“So how do you know she didn’t leave after that?” Jake questioned, causing her to sigh again.

“Because I’m a few blocks away from her and she Facetimed me when I sent her a text telling her I was home. She fell asleep on the phone.”

“Oh damn. You’re in love, girl,” Gina commented, a grin forming when all Rosa did was roll her eyes in response. 

“Okay so she has an alibi, but we also have to rule out the possibility that she had an accomplice.” Terry sighed when Rosa gave him a threatening look. “Look, I want to believe she’s innocent too--”

“Then believe it.”

“--but we have to consider everything, Diaz. It looks pretty suspicious that the last person to see our victim alive also had a reason to want him gone.”

“How do you know she was the last to see him alive?” Rosa took the piece of paper Amy held out to her holding a witness statement, forcing herself not to overreact when she read that Y/N had been spotted talking to her supervisor next to his car. “This means nothing. Check into the person that gave this statement.”

“Rosa--”

“How do we even know she was the last person he saw? And that the person who ‘witnessed’ this didn’t just follow the vic home and kill him just to frame her? What, because of some camera footage and he said, she said?” Barely a moment of silence passed before Rosa spoke again. “Exactly. Santiago and Boyle, meet me downstairs. I’m driving.”

She dropped the witness statement on the table in front of Amy and stormed out, grabbing the keys to her squad car on her way back to the interrogation room you were waiting in. Your eyes snapped up from your hands when the door opened, relaxing slightly as Rosa entered the room.

“I’m going to be out for a bit trying to investigate more of the people involved, but you’ll be okay here.” She hesitated for a moment before approaching your side and leaning down to kiss you for the second time in 12 hours. “I love you.”

She was back out the door as quickly as she arrived.

-

Waiting to find out if you’d be charged with a murder you didn’t commit was hard. Being transitioned from the quiet calm of the interrogation room to the holding cell adjoining the chaotic bullpen was hard too, but at least your hands weren’t chained together anymore. You sat in the farthest corner and counted the minutes until they seemed to all blend together, and all you could focus on was the lingering feeling of warmth caused by Rosa’s lips on yours and her confession.

Having given up on your counting long ago, you weren’t sure how much time had passed when the door to the holding cell opened again. You were delighted to see Rosa again, but your hopeful expression shifted to confusion when you saw who she was leading in.

“Mrs. Fenderson?”

“Hi, Y/N.” 

The woman spoke softly without meeting your eyes, moving to sit on a nearby bench when Rosa unlocked her cuffs. You eyed her curiously as Rosa gently grabbed your wrist and led you out of the cell, making sure it locked before bringing you over to her desk.

“Um, why is my supervisor’s wife--”

“She did it,” she told you as the two of you sat down. “Well, she had some help.”

You followed the direction she nodded in with your eyes, which widened when you saw a couple officers leading in the one person that accused you of being involved with everything. You watched as they led him to the holding cell too, only turning away when Rosa placed her hand over one of yours.

“How did you…? What?!” you asked, unable to fight off a bit of a smile when Rosa snorted. 

“Mrs. Fenderson recently signed up her husband for a pretty hefty life insurance policy, and it didn’t take long to find out those two were boning. I got her to confess to everything while they tracked down her lover, who used the fact that you were up for the same promotion he wanted as a chance to frame you.”

“That’s so fucking crazy,” you responded in a breathless tone as you attempted to wrap your head around the situation for a second, giving up and bringing your free hand to rest on top of hers. “Thank you.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.” She shrugged nonchalantly as she stood, pulling you to your feet as well before you released her hand. “Anyway, it’s super late now and I know you haven’t eaten anything so let’s go.”

“Fine, but I’m paying,” you insisted as the two of you headed toward the elevator, laughing a bit as you remembered something. “As long as we can stop by my apartment first. They don’t exactly let you bring your phone and wallet when you’re arrested for murder.”

“You can pay next time,” she told you with a snort, quickly adding “if I let you.”

The elevator ride passed along silently, and it wasn’t long before you were headed down the street to a 24 hour diner that you’d mentioned to Rosa last night. You waited until you were seated and food was ordered before starting a conversation.

“About what you said earlier,” you began with your gaze locked on the straw wrapper you were toying with, completely missing Rosa’s panicked expression.

“Look, we can just forget I said anything.”

“No!” You lowered your voice after noticing a few wary glances, turning back to Rosa and pulling her hands into yours. “I don’t want to forget it, but I was hoping to say it first.”

“You love me too?”

“I do.” You squeezed her fingers with a grin. “I love you, Rosa, and I love Arlo for giving me an excuse to keep seeing his mom, because I sure as hell would’ve been too nervous to come up with one on my own.”

Expecting Rosa to be too uncomfortable with PDA, you pulled her hands closer to drop a kiss on her knuckles, pleasantly surprised when she pulled away to hold your jaw in place, leaning forward to press her lips to yours.

-

Tags: @gaulty74 @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @xetherealbeautyx @milkfromhell 

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz imagine #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz x fem!reader #rosa diaz x you #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fanfic #b99 fic #b99 #b99 x reader #b99 x fem!reader #b99 x you

[toastedside]

In Health

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: Angst, Angry Tim Drake

Note: I knoooooow it's been a while since I wrote this series and I actually have finished it a while ago. Just figure I want to share the rest. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

You bit the inside of your cheeks, your eyes travelled constantly to the watch on your wrist. The iced coffee you ordered fifteen minutes ago already half gone. Metropolis was bright and sunny that day, the weather was warm and nice. A welcomed contrast to gloomy Gotham with its perpetual cloud.

The coffee shop Lois had told you about was buzzed with hungry patrons, considering it was almost lunchtime anyway. It was a breath of relief that nobody would recognize you on the first glance, something you had learned fairly quickly since Bruce had publicly claimed you years ago. If you went somewhere with shirts and jeans and nothing shiny, nobody would recognize you that you are Y/N Wayne.

You glanced into your watch again for the millionth time that day. Was the request to meet up too much for them? Were you too harsh on them back in the days? It’s unusual for–

“Hey, oh my god, we’re so sorry. Our meeting last longer than we expected.”

Lois suddenly came into frame. Behind her was a slightly disheveled Clark, eyeing her behind his glasses hesitantly. Something sank at the bottom of you stomach by the sight alone, perhaps you were indeed way too harsh on him.

“It’s alright, I didn’t wait that long anyway,” you mustered a white lie as you gestured them to take a seat across yours. “How’s Jon doing? I miss him coming over on the weekend.”

“He is fine. Clark and I bought him a video game console on his birthday and all he’s been doing was glued his eyes on the TV,” Lois rolled her eyes fondly at the topic of her own son, something you've been doing for years since you are a mother too. “How are the kids?”

“I figure Jon had been talking about his video games with Damian. He asked me if he could buy one just yesterday,” you laughed. “The kids are fine, per usual. Dick and Jason had been a little busy with their job, so they usually only come over on the weekend. Damian tried to woo me into adopt another pet again last week, Cass been practicing ballet a lot lately, and Tim... well... it’s been a little tough for him to fill Bruce’s shoes in the company but he’s doing well so far.”

There was a little shift in the air after you finished. Lois subtly adjusted her seat, silently sent a look towards her husband who looked a little too nervous to be comfortable. It would be funny to see Superman himself squirmed on his seat if the reason behind it didn’t left a bitter aftertaste.

“Lunch?” you swiftly opened the menu book to dissipate the growing tension and gently shoved it into Clark’s lap. “It’s on me.”

The lunch was surprisingly normal and calm, the thought of the dreading event was swept away underneath the nonexistent rug. Lois had been talking about the newest article she was writing about and Clark was obviously waltzed around carefully to not touching the superhero business, and you played your best to ignore it.

“Lois, Clark,” you started as everyone finally finished their lunch and the empty plates were taken away. “I am here to apologize for what I have done... three months ago. And what I might have said.”

There was silence hung in the air as Lois and Clark shared a look together. It was Lois who immediately reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. “Hon, you have nothing to apologize for. We understand, you were–”

“It was still rude and uncalled for, and my circumstance was a mere explanation. Especially to you, Clark,” you rolled your shoulders slightly to face Clark better, eyes fell into the balled fist on his lap. “You were only trying to explain, but I shut you out. I know you lost your best friend too that night and I am so sorry I didn’t try to reach you out sooner.”

“Y/N, it’s–”

“No, no, it’s not.” you breathed shakily. You had prepared your best for this inevitable conversation, but still unaware how painful it could be. “Bruce wouldn’t want me to act that way.”

Silence now had fallen completely and the air had shifted drastically. The only thing that grounded you from withering away and succumb into your own thought was Lois’s thumb gently stroking your wrist. Clark was stunned silent on his seat, the gears on his mind worked twice harder than it usually did in past three months. Nothing had prepared him for this conversation.

“Y/N, I forgive you. I already had long ago. I understand completely, and I would probably act worse if I were in your shoes,” Clark breathed out. All the tension in his shoulders that hinder him in the last forty-five minutes had dissipated into the thin air.

“Thank you,” you lifted your eyes to meet his. Sometimes you forgot how unnaturally blue his eyes were, cold and calculating, even though the corner of his eyes and the smile lines soften it out. It almost reminded you with Bruce. “Can you... can you tell me what happened that night? You were there with him, didn’t you?”

Lois and Clark shared another look, something told you that both knew what you didn’t. “Are you sure you want to hear this now?”

“I need my closure, Clark. And I’d love to know which son of a bitch that take my husband away.”

Clark told you everything in vivid details, the hairs on your shoulders stood in dread by the explanation alone. He talked about the League mission, the warehouse, and the explosion that had killed Bruce and suspected blown his body into unrecognizable tiny bits. By the time he was finished, you were close to tears, and was pleasantly surprised you didn’t weep your heart outs right away in a public place.

“One question,” you wiped the stubborn tears that started to well on your eyes. You mustered a silent thank you as Clark offered his handkerchief. “Was Red Robin there? Was Red Robin called for backup?”

“I can’t remember. What about him?”

You took a sharp breath, the image of Tim weeping on your lap and repeating his apology played inside your mind like a broken movie. “He obsessively investigating his death, saying it was his fault it happened in the first place.”

Lois tighten her grip on your hand and squeezed harder. It wasn’t a secret that your son was bad at letting go and coping with loss, but it had been a huge toll to knew he blamed himself for it. Clark sent you an apologetic look, and you were surprised that you didn’t dread the look.

“It wasn’t his fault. It was supposed to be an easy investigation, an in-and-out mission. Nobody could come prepared for the explosion,” Clark reassured you, although it was addressed more to Tim instead of you. “The machines...”

A sudden rang from Clark’s phone interrupted his words. He watched it rang briefly before let out a dreading, long sigh. “I’m so sorry, but I really need to take this.”

You smiled reassuringly. “Go on.”

Turns out, Lois and Clark had been called for another meeting and had to cut their meeting short. Lois had hugged you tight and drop a promise to come over by weekend for dinner. Clark left a lingering touch on your wrist, his eyes widen as if he had come into a realization he hadn’t before, but he left before he able to muster any single words.

The ride back to Gotham was long and tedious. The traffic had made the trip an hour and half longer than it was necessary, but the sunset at the horizon was a sight for sore eyes. The chance to catch a beautiful sunset was close to zero in Gotham, so you preserved the moment as much as you could. A little part of your soul wished Bruce could witness such sight with you.

You arrived right before dinnertime, the manor was surprisingly quiet, spared for some noises Alfred made in the kitchen as he prepared for dinner. One thing about Wayne household was silent wasn’t a good thing, and one should be suspicious if it happened.

“Where are the others? It’s eerily quiet.” your head popped up in the kitchen. “Alfred, it smells delicious. Are you making Shepherd’s pie again?”

“Miss Y/N, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t surprise me like that anymore,” Alfred deadpanned. “Yes, I am. How was your meeting?”

“It went well. I... I finally get the explanation I deserved,” you sat across the kitchen island, your bag fell into the floor as you did. “Thank you for convincing me into reaching out to him.”

Alfred pressed his lips together into a pleased smile. “You have found your closure, I assumed?”

“I don’t know about that, Alfred,” you admitted. “But it was great to finally know what happened and not left in the dark. Maybe it was a good step for me.”

“I believe so, Miss Y/N.”

“Are those teas for the kids?” you shifted the topic away into a tray full of teacups and biscuits. “Where are they?”

“All of them are cramped together in Batcave, I believe. Master Damian had asked me to brought them some teas.”

“Let me take it to them. You can continue bake your Shepherd’s Pie again.”

Alfred was hesitant, but he nodded away and shoved the tray into your embrace. It had been long overdue for you to step back into the Batcave anyway, figured this would be a great time for you to go back.

You forgot how much you hated the perpetual coldness the Batcave seemed to persistently have, no matter how many efforts everyone had put years ago into make this place warmer and comfortable. The sound of your children bickering with each other filled the cave and it made you smile, for all of its worth, you had always admired your children’s tendency to find things to argue about.

It was until the sound of fist slammed against the table that stopped you in your track and wiped away your smile.

“Stop it, Timbers, stop this fucking bullshit!” Jason’s voice roared, followed with the ear-ripping screeches of bats that had been awoken from their slumber by his roaring voice alone.

“I am telling you the truth!” Tim said heatedly, which was alarming. You quickly hid yourself in the shadows between the costume displays, finding yourself a better spot to watched your children without being known. “Why can’t you believe me?”

“Look at me in the eye and tell me that was not a fucking bullshit!”

“Tim, bud, come on. You need to stop. This isn’t healthy,” Dick’s concerned voice chimed in between the heated stares Jason and Tim exchanged. Your heart sank from that words alone, Tim must had investigating again. “You have us. We can get through this together. But not like this.”

“TT. Drake, you have started to creep me out,” Damian’s equally concerned voice, albeit masked with his usual scowl and sarcasm, piped in. “Also, you look like you hadn’t sleep since you were born.”

“Thanks for the flattery. But listen–”

“Stop it. Stop. Shut your mouth!” Jason yelled again. His finger intimidatingly pointed towards Tim, his eyes filled with rage and frustration. “Have you heard yourself talking?”

“Won’t you all give me a fucking minute to explain myself?” Tim stood from his chair; his fist crumpled together into a ball clenched on his side. It was such an eerie sight to see him so worked up like this. “Cass?”

You saw Cass silently shook her head. She sent Tim an apologetic smile as Tim groaned in frustration.

“Why none of you would just listen to me?”

“Tim, there is no way in hell Bruce is still alive!”

The roar that came from Dick was eerie, but it was his words that split your world into half. You didn’t realize the tray had slipped from your grasp until it clashed with cold floor, your gasp was masked with the loud clang of the tray hitting the floor and the sound of teacups shattered into pieces. All eyes followed towards the sound, and all were surprised to spot their mother was there.

You saw from the corner of your eyes that Dick walked towards you. His shoulders were tensed, his eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and anger. But your eyes fell on Tim whose eyes widen in horror upon realizing that your unknown presence was lurking all these times. You could mentally see the guilt that slowly seeped through his initial shock, the blue in his eyes waver slightly with the swirling guilt. You walked towards Tim, and from the look on his face alone, you wondered if you looked as if you were about to swallow him whole.

“Mom...” Tim croaked.

“Mom, it’s alright. It was nothing.”

“Ma, let’s go upstairs. It’s dinnertime, you never like it when we–”

“Tim.” The firmness on your voice effectively silence your two oldest sons out. Your hands gently placed on Tim’s shoulders as you shut your eyes and counted from one to ten. “Tell me everything.”

“W-what?”

“Tell me everything you know. Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Mom, I don’t think you should see it.”

“He was my husband, Tim. I deserve to know.”

Tim pressed his lips together, his eyes travelled up slowly before he let out a sigh. “Just tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

#batman #batfam #batmom #batfam imagine #batfam fic #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne imagine #clark kent #superman #lois lane #batmom x batfamily #cassandra cain #batmom x batman #dick grayson imagine #jason todd imagine #tim drake imagine #damian wayne imagine #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #cassandra cain imagine #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader

[reginaaxxwrites]

Walls Could Talk • Todoroki Shoto

Pro Hero! Shoto x Villain! Reader

warning: mentions of blood, gore, killing, problems in psychological thinking

° • ° • ° •

"I'm asking you again. Why did you kill those people?" Tsukauchi asked the 20-year-old woman.

They were both sitting at a chair, a table between them as they were facing each other. He couldn't believe that the girl who's sitting in front of him, used to dream about being a hero someday.

But instead, she became a wanted villain. A woman who would kill innocent people, enjoying every stab she makes at a lifeless body. Her hands were used to be gentle and pure. Now, it's tainted in blood and hatred.

Tsukauchi didn't understand why she would do such a thing and why did she become what she is.

Y/N looked at him. Instead of answering his question. Her lips form a grin and started to laugh. It frightened him.

"Of course, you would ask that question." She stopped laughing and remained her body composed.

She leans forward even though chains surround her body, keeping her from escaping under their hands.

"I can see how sad and frightened you are, Mr. Tsukauchi. But you see... You can't change the fact that I killed people. I can see it in your eyes that you couldn't believe what I had become. A girl who you once thought a pure and innocent—you probably still think of me that. But I'm sorry to tell you that L/N Y/N is no longer here." She laughed again.

Tsukauchi wanted to save her. Maybe there's another way that could bring herself. He believes that there's still hope to bring back into your senses.

"No one can save me... Not even All Might himself." She looked at him, this time her eyes glowed in red like Aizawa's.

He stood up in his chair, leaving her behind. He took out his phone dialed his number. Maybe he can make her talk. Maybe he can bring her senses back.

Maybe he can bring her back.

He can't let her become like this.

Tsukauchi waited for him to pick up his phone. He balled his fist, his knuckles turning white. He's becoming impatient. He knows that he's busy due to his hero works but if he could just answer the phone.

He's the only person he thought could save her.

"Hello?"

"Shoto! I know that this might not be in a good time. But could you lend me some of yours? I need you here. ASAP." He said in frustration.

Todoroki could hear his frustration and panic through the phone. In fact, Tsukauchi called at a good time since he was about to talk to him about his recent investigation.

"I'll be there in 10 minutes." Todoroki hanged up and went to his car.

Δ Δ Δ

"I don't why Mount Lady said that girls would die if I smiled. Is my smile, deadly? Does my smile kill you?" Todoroki said, sitting beside the girl who tried her best to stop herself from laughing.

"Pfft—Sho, no. You're helpless." She laughed.

Todoroki stared at her. He felt warm in his chest, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. Everything about her just makes him feel warm and happy.

"Okay—Pfft—I'm done laughing." She giggled, removing her small tears from her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She smiled and let her head lay at Todoroki's broad shoulder. "It's just a way of telling that they love how you smile. Because you know... You're handsome, seeing you smile makes them like you even more. It's making me kinda jealous, though." She giggled as she intertwined her fingers to his.

Todoroki caressed her hand and kissed it, making Y/N flustered from his sudden actions.

"Then, should I only smile whenever I'm around you?"

"Oh, stop. That's making me sound a little selfish."

"I don't mind."

"You're literally taking every word seriously, aren't you?"

"Is that bad?"

Y/N once laughed again. Todoroki never fails to make her laugh. But he didn't mind. Her laughs were music to his ears. He loved them. Everything. He loved everything about her.

Days like these... He wishes to stay like these forever. He never wants to let go of her hand. Without her feels empty and cold.

She brings him happiness. A love that once was taken away from him was brought back because of her.

Δ Δ Δ

Todoroki arrived at the police station where Tsukauchi is. Tsukauchi went to Todoroki after seeing him enter inside the building.

"About the investigation—"

"We have some important serious matter besides that mission." He cuts him off. "Follow me." He turned around and walks off.

Todoroki followed him, yet he is confused. What is that important serious matter is he talking about? He hopes that it isn't dangerous because if it is Tsukauchi would not just have called him but also Midoriya and Bakugo.

After entering a room. Todoroki stood there in shock to see a familiar woman sitting inside the custody suite. Chains were surrounded her body as she looks emotionless.

She's breathing, alive. But at the same time, the aura she's giving was cold. There was no warm feeling he used to feel whenever he sees her.

Todoroki could feel his body weakened. How could possibly that the girl he thought died a few years ago was alive and is sitting inside the room? Not knowing that he's outside. He could've sworn he saw her took her last breathe.

"I'm sure you know why I called you."

"H-How? She died in my arms." His voice was shaking.

"Remember the wanted villain? Phantom Scarlet. Who kills innocent people. Whether it's a child or an elder. She kills them without mercy." Tsukauchi feels sick of how brutal her ways of killing are. She likes to kill them in a creative way. She's a psychopath. A serial killer. Sure, saving her is not a solution to this case. But he wanted to know why and how did this happen.

All of her classmates knew that she had died. They were there during her funeral. So how could a dead L/N Y/N is still here, killing people as the way of her fun time, a hobby?

"Maybe you could bring herself back to senses. Or ask the questions that could get answered. I know this is a sensitive favor. But I know that you also, have some questions to ask her." Tsukauchi started to talk. He gave Todoroki a glance that he should enter inside the custody suite.

Todoroki nodded at him as he held the doorknob tightly, taking a deep breath before entering.

He sat down at the chair that faces her and kept himself calm. He took one last glance at the large window where he could see Tsukauchi looking at them.

"Y/N."

The E/C-haired girl looked at the man she once knew. She stared at him, plainly. Not really surprised that he was sitting in front of her.

"Who would've thought that he would call you."

"You died. We were at your funeral. You died during the war between Midoriya and Tomura Shigaraki. How—"

"You know nothing, Todoroki. The man we fought killed my parents, my family. I seek revenge. I wanted to avenge my parents that's why I fought him together with Midoriya even if it caused my life."

Todoroki gripped his pants. He remembered how Shigaraki stabbed her deep. He stabbed the critical parts of her body. She coughed blood, she was losing all of her blood. Todoroki trying to keep the pressure. He was desperate to close your wounds so she would stop bleeding.

"H-How did you survived?"

"I didn't die. Everyone thought I did. But I didn't." She chuckled. "No one dared to open my casket because I wasn't the one who's inside of it."

Todoroki widens his eyes as Tsukauchi heard the words she said. If she isn't the person inside... Then who?

"Surprising, isn't it?" She smiled, her voice in excitement as she was about to reveal something important. "You're wondering who's inside? Honestly, I don't even who's inside. Probably another person's dead body that I killed." She giggled.

Todoroki was in shock to see the girl he loved. Up until now. He couldn't even go out on dates and love another girl because he still loves her.

"Disappointed to see the girl you once fell in love with is a psychopath? I killed people because I wanted to. I woke up and felt an urge to kill. The first time I killed after the war... I felt alive. It's like it was the missing piece in a puzzle. It completed me. I let all of you knew that I died because being with all of you doesn't feel like home anymore."

"What about you told me that you wanted to be a hero? To save people and bring them into justice?" Todoroki asked. He was still looking for her.

Y/N...

"Aww... Can't you see, Shoto? I'm not in the right mindset. I said those words to fit in. When clearly what I wanted was to avenge my family and kill villains. It's a cruel reality, Sho. Accept it."

Bring her back...

"Did you... Did you really loved me?" He looked directly at her eyes. He could've sworn she saw her eyes widen by the sudden question he asked.

He's hoping that even if she lied about becoming a hero and her true intentions. At least the love that she gave to him was enough to make him believe that deep inside she was honest about herself. That she really, truly loved him.

"Our love made me crazy, Shoto. I wanted to kill those girls who come and flirt with you. But I stopped myself because I knew you would leave me. Though, I did hurt Camie once. She kept texting you so I gave her a little warning." She giggled. "You made me a maniac, Shoto. And you didn't even know."

Everything was clear. The days they spent together, he didn't even notice that she was a psychopath. That she has a longing for killing people. But how would he know when you were the girl that kept him warm and loved?

All of it was a lie.

"I did love you. That's why I am willing to kill for you. But seeing your face right now, makes me wanna burst into a laugh. Did I disappoint you? I hope I did."

"STOP! BRING HER BACK. I KNOW SHE'S STILL IN THERE. WHOEVER ARE YOU—JUST FUCKING BRING HER BACK!" Todoroki couldn't hold it any longer and shouted at her.

He refused to believe, but how can he tell that this wasn't happening when she told him everything.

Everything is twisted.

"Give up, Shoto. You can't save everyone. That includes me. Let me go and move on." Y/N said in a gentle voice. Todoroki calmed himself but he already knew.

She has a split personality.

"Y/N?"

"There's nothing you can do. I let myself do this. I chose this path." She looked at him the way she looked at him during their high school days. "No one can stop me from killing." Then a split second, she was no longer there, again.

"That's enough, Shoto," Tsukauchi called to get their attention. "We've got the answers we wanted. It's enough."

It was truly terrifying. Tsukauchi looked at her. She was still there but it feels like she isn't.

Todoroki went out of the room, feeling sick about what happened. She had a split personality all this time. He couldn't save her... He can't save her. Not anymore. In order for her to stop killing, is by locking her inside a psychiatric ward or by putting her on a death sentence.

"Thank you for your help, Shoto. And I'm sorry." He followed Todoroki as sat down in frustration. His right hand on his face, still shocked about everything.

"It's all my fault."

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #x reader #todoroki x reader #fanfic #wattpad #bnha todoroki #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #female reader

[cabensonsgirly]

👼These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends (Multi-Char)[NSFW]👼

Multiple SP characters x fem!reader

Xandra, Billie-Dean, Ally Mayfair, Anne Gillette, Audrey Tindall, Wilhemina Venable, Ellie Staple, Diane Sherman, Mildred Ratched.

👼Slice 2👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak ​ even though she’ll deny it.

👼Wordcount: 1530👼

👼Published on AO3: Read Here👼

👼 Taglist: @mrsdeanhoward @okpaulson 👼

👼 Content (some for later parts): Super Au, dubious consent, slow-burn, manipulation, face-slapping, drug-use, alcohol, smut, cunnilingus, strap-on, cum, choking, degradation, sex-work, court, bruises, spit, mommy kink, daddy kink, humiliation, public sex/teasing 👼 

👼She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, she was not interested in this man in the slightest and he wasn’t even that good in bed, it was his money she was after, and she would leave the relationship with all of it after they get married. He had been talking about marriage for the past few months seeing as they had been together for a few years, completely unaware of how disinterested she actually is. Anne was not a woman to fall in love, nor was she the type of woman to settle down and get married. 👼

Rita leads Anne from the courtroom, the pair laughing quietly and talking amongst themselves as they made their way to an elevator. Rita gestured for Anne to enter before she went to herself, “Rita!” the older woman fights the urge to roll her eyes, telling Anne where she was to go and how to get there before she closes the elevator door. She turns to face the woman who yelled her name “Oh what a pleasant surprise, Detective Benson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Olivia shakes her head, jaw set firm as she stops in front of Rita “What the fuck are you doing? The evidence shows that she was the one that set the crime up! Who cares if Prestwick was blackmailed!? Gillette killed her damned parents and you know it. Just because you have some vendetta with my team doesn’t-“

Rita laughs, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face “How many times must we do this, Olivia? It is my job to defend people regardless of what they do, just like it is your job to investigate crimes ethically. I know I’m doing my job to the books; I can’t say the same about you. My advice, lie back and pretend like you’re enjoying it. You’ll last longer.” She steps into the elevator after the doors ding open, she turns to give the detective one last cursory glance “You lost, Benson.” She states before the doors close.

It doesn’t matter whether she believes Anne killed her parents or not, the woman had paid her generously to defend her and she was going to do just that. Nor does it matter the two have history, it didn’t impact the case or her ability to do her job. She was looking forward to the end of it though so she could finally actually enjoy a quiet drink without the guilt of knowing she should be working instead.

Once the doors open, she makes her way quickly to where Anne should be, letting out a breath of relief when she sees Anne sitting back in one of the seats, her blazer draped over the back of it. “You really think I’d risk doing a runner after the absolute field day you had out there? Ms. Calhoun I’m offended” she laughs, a coy smirk tugging at her lips “I’m saving the energy for once I’m cleared of my charges. How does that sound? You come back to the estate and unwind, just like the-“

Rita hushes her, swatting her arm lightly as she takes a seat opposite the blonde “Ms. Gillette! The walls have ears.” She shrugs her blazer off as well and leans back in her seat, propping her elbow up on the armrest before leaning her head against it, a small smile on her face as she looks at the woman opposite her.

“I never thought I’d be defending you in a murder case too, Anne. It’s one thing helping you get out of minor assault charges, but for a double-homicide?” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head “That is something else entirely. You were always one to make a grand show of things though, hm?” Rita quirks a brow at the blonde, a faint smirk tugging at her lips which earns an eye-roll and scoff from the blonde.

“Oh please Rita, I’m hardly as dramatic as that Tindall woman. Now, after this is all over, would you like to join me for drinks? Nothing else will happen, just an extra thank you for your hard work.” Rita sighs quietly “I can’t- I owe Novak a round after being so rough on her in court. She’s an amazing lawyer and a hard-worker, I’d rather not burn that bridge.”

Rita’s phone buzzes against the table and she immediately grabs it, turning the screen on to see the message before her eyes dart to Anne’s “They’ve reached a verdict, Ms. Gillette” she breathes out, a very faint hint of a nervous waver. “Well then, let’s get this over and done with.” Anne stands up and puts her blazer on, doing a button up in the middle then brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She follows Rita out of the room and down the hall to the elevator, this is the first time since this case started that she feels genuinely nervous- Not that she committed the crime, anyone would be nervous if they were in court.

Rita gives Anne’s arm a gentle squeeze before they exit the elevator and make their way into the court room, both ignoring the glares coming from the prosecution as they take a seat behind their table. “All stand for the Judge.” They do just that, Rita glancing at Casey out the corner of her eye, noticing how tense she appears before they take their seats again once the Judge has sat down.

Court:                 Will the jury foreperson please stand. Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?

Foreperson:          Yes.

                                  CLERK TAKES THE VERDICT FORM

                                     AND HANDS IT TO THE JUDGE.                              

Rita rests her hand on Anne’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze upon noticing how anxious the woman was before returning her hand to rest on the table with her other one.

Judge:                    The jury find the defendant not guilty. The defendant is free to go home. Lets hope we don’t see you in this court again, Ms. Gillette. The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned.

Anne lets out a shaky breath before standing up and throwing her arms around Rita in a tight hug, repeatedly mumbling thank you to her. Rita returns the hug before pulling back slightly, gently wiping away the few tears that had spilled onto Anne’s cheeks, giving her a soft smile “I told you that I’d make sure you were found not guilty, Ms. Gillette. I’m a woman of my word, you should know that by now.”

Anne smiles back and lets go of Rita before running a hand through her short blonde hair “A miracle worker.” She glances over Rita’s shoulder and sees Casey watching intently, a disheartened look on her face before returning her gaze back to the woman in front of her “I should get going, it looks like Casey wants a word with you and she definitely looks like she needs a few drinks. I’ll see you around, Rita.” She kisses the woman’s cheek in farewell before taking her leave, feeling considerably lighter and more free now that the case is over.

Once she is out of the courthouse, she takes out her phone and calls her boyfriend- well, he thinks he’s her boyfriend, but she really couldn’t care less. “Hi darling, you’re talking to a free woman. No I’m not upset you couldn’t be in court, it would hardly be a good look for a detective to be seen on the alleged criminal’s side. You can make it up to me tonight when you take me out for dinner- Yes Yn can come along too, she is your daughter after all. I will take her shopping for something nice- I won’t be spoiling the girl. She needs nicer clothing to go to the restaurant I have in mind. Don’t worry- I already told you I am not going to spoil the girl. I don’t like repeating myself so it would do you some good to actually listen. I’ll pick her up from university and we’ll go from there. Mhmm, love you too. See you tonight.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, she was not interested in this man in the slightest and he wasn’t even that good in bed, it was his money she was after, and she would leave the relationship with all of it after they get married. He had been talking about marriage for the past few months seeing as they had been together for a few years, completely unaware of how disinterested she actually is. Anne was not a woman to fall in love, nor was she the type of woman to settle down and get married.

“You better not fuck this family up too, Ms. Gillette” Anne turns to find Olivia walking towards her, thoroughly pissed off “Yn is like a daughter to me, so if I find out you do anything to upset her-“ The blonde gives her a bored look “Do you have nothing better to do, Olivia? Were you not listening to what the judge said? I’m an innocent woman, so no, I didn’t fuck my family up, daddy did when he killed my mother before himself.”

She takes a step closer to the brunette, a smug smirk settling on her face “You may be like a mother to her, Olivia, but unlike you… I actually am her step-mom, something you will never be. Now, this may be a surprise to you, seeing as you’re someone that never works, I have things to do including taking Yn clothes shopping for our celebratory dinner tonight. You’re not invited.” She fakes a pout “How unfortunate” before laughing and making her way to the car that was waiting for her before getting in, telling the driver where to go.

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #anne gillette #anne gillette imagine #anne gillette x reader #rita calhoun #olivia benson #casey novak #Audrey tindall #audrey tindall imagine #audrey tindall x reader

[scripts4dreamers]

I literally JUST sat down, pt. 1

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: Nuh uh, nope. Not this again. You did not sign up for this.  Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol, eventual NSFW content

Prompt: After watching 7x07 “This episode is so scary man... Imagine just doing your job which is pretty morbid at times but oh well and then suddenly you have to go to this place where there's a lot of tornadoes and you're like well at least I'm inside and safe and then your boss is like "we gotta go right to these tornado places lol" and then you think "well that's scary but at least we have this handy dandy live map showing us exactly in real time where the tornadoes are so we'll be fine and then the internet is like "haha nope have fun dying in a tornado" 

- @pirateismywayofspeaking​ who is a literal genius.

This will be a multichapter piece! So lemme know if you want to be tagged in subsequent chapters. 

—————————-

Usually, when terrible things happen, people say the same few things: “I never thought it would happen to me! You never think something like this will happen to you until it does!”. You’d never really been that type of person. You were naturally cautious, and an ex FBI agent, you saw danger pretty much everywhere. You’d seen some of the worst things human beings could ever do to one another and, if you’d learned anything at all, it was that bad things happened everywhere and to pretty much everyone. There was nowhere that you could definitively say was safe from violent crime, but this was just ridiculous.

You looked around the ruined bookshop you’d poured the last year of your life into with a kind of detached sadness. Even before you opened the door, you could see the carnage. The shelves were upended, tables flipped, every vase in the building was smashed...except one. You sighed, stepping into the store, your eyes scanning the wreck with a practiced efficiency. No broken windows, the door was still locked when you’d arrived and your security cameras were blacked out, there were no signs of forced entry. If anything that made you more uneasy and, not for the first time since you’d left the bureau, you missed the weight of your gun against your hip. You crinkled your nose against the smell, the copper-iron of fresh blood that you were all too familiar with as you crept through your store.

“Son of a-fuck!” You swore loudly, cursing your luck as you took in the scene.

There was a body laid out in the middle of the Fiction aisle: face covered with a burlap sack, wrists and ankles bound with rope and blood seeping into the carpets you’d just had cleaned. Your training kicked in and you noticed, without meaning to, that the rest of the aisle was untouched. The shelves were upright, books in order, even the vase of white roses you’d put there the night before were all completely the way you’d left them. It was like he’d just completely bypassed the entire section.

Huh.

You looked up at the sky, “Really? Right now? You throw this at me, now? Unbelievable.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your chest, along with a nervousness that you were telling yourself was irritation as you pulled out your phone. It had been a long while since you’d done this, but you still knew the number by heart.

“This is agent Jareau with the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“JJ, it’s me,” you said, “you’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————

You sat in the ruins of your store until the cops arrived, wondering who exactly you had murdered in a past life to end up with this kind of luck. You gave your statement without much incident, directing CSU to the body and alerting the detective to the abnormalities you’d spotted.

JJ had promised to get the team on the case as quickly as she could, and you knew JJ tended to get exactly what she wanted in that regard, you just didn’t know how you felt about that. It had been over a year since you’d left the BAU, since you’d done one case too many and just got fed all the way up. It really wasn’t any deeper than that. One day you’d come home and found that you couldn’t sleep. It had all just become too much, so you packed up your stuff, tendered your resignation, and started over.

It had been hard at first, but now you owned a fairly successful bookstore with a little coffee shop where you sold good coffee, and homemade biscuits. And it was nice. You felt good, kinda. You definitely slept better at night. Your life was finally starting to feel normal and now this? A dead body just happens to appear in the center of your bookstore in just weird enough a way to warrant a call to the BAU? No, you’d seen too much to consider this a coincidence. Whether you liked it or not, you were about to get thrown back into your old life head first, the life you’d worked so hard to get some distance from. So why weren’t you more...upset?

“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice called.

“In here,” you answered, your voice raspy from disuse. You cleared your throat and pushed yourself up onto your feet, “I’m in here.” You tried again.

The figures who stepped in were painfully familiar and you couldn’t help the tired smile that slid onto your face, your eyes going directly to the blonde woman walking at the very front.

“Y/N!” She greeted, her voice dripping with relief as she pulled you into a hug, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, JJ,” you assured her as you broke apart, the rest of your old team filing in behind her.

She eyed you like she wasn’t sure, pressing her lips into a thin line as she looked around the trashed store. Derek Morgan swooped in behind her, giving you a second hug.

“Long time, Y/L/N,” he smiled.

You sighed, “Wish it was under better circumstances, Morgs, but I’m glad you guys are here.”

“Y/L/N,” Aaron Hotchner greeted, giving you a firm handshake.

“Thanks for coming, Hotch, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” You admitted.

“No, you made the right call. The BAU has officially taken on the case. Reid, Prentiss and Rossi are coordinating with the local PD from our headquarters, the rest of us are here to help,” he said, pausing and meeting your eye, silently asking the question you’d been waiting all morning for.

“No sign of forced entry,” you started, “the front door was still locked from the outside when I arrived.” You walked him through the crime scene, glass crunching beneath your feet as you went, “It looks like someone sprayed black paint over the security cameras I had installed, everything’s been smashed but there’s no cash missing from the register. In fact, they barely touched the front desk at all.” You explained, “And this,” you gestured at the Fiction aisle, “is where I found the body.”

Morgan stepped forward and, just like that, the team moved like a well oiled machine.

“White male, looks like he’s between the ages of 19 and 27.” Morgan started.

“His wrists and ankles are bound, but it doesn’t look like he struggled against his restraints at all,” you cut in, without meaning to, crouching down beside the body, “it could mean he was tied up postmortem.”

“We’ll have to wait on the M.E’s report to know for sure,” Hotch agreed, “Y/L/N, can I talk to you?” You nodded and let him pull you aside. He glanced over your shoulder and lowered his voice, “I know you’re out and we can do this investigation without you-“

“But?” You probed.

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile, “But, I would also welcome your help if you’re willing to give it. The team is still a man down and, something about this scene has me thinking-“

“That whoever did this isn’t finished,” you agreed, sighing as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Everything was so messed up in your head. You just wanted to go back to bed and start this day all over again. Hotch looked at you and you recognized his brand of quiet concern. It was familiar and comforting, and it helped you process your thoughts.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you frowned, “yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll come back.” Hotch smiled and you wagged a finger at him, “But just for this one case! After that I’m straight back to my boring normal person life, alright?”

“Of course,” he agreed, something almost mocking in his tone.

“I’m serious, Hotch, just one more case.”

“I’m agreeing with you!” He insisted, already walking back to the rest of the group.

But he wasn’t and, much to your chagrin, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as you turned back to the scene of the crime.

“Hotch, Y/L/N,” Morgan called, holding something in his gloved hand, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

“Here we go again,” you sighed.

————————-

Walking back into the BAU had felt like stepping back in time. After you’d gotten everything you could from the crime scene there was nothing to do but brainstorm, but walking through those doors again...well, let’s say you hadn’t been prepared for how it would feel being back. For the most part, everyone had been glad to see you, especially Garcia, but you could tell that there were still some resentments bubbling under the surface. It made sense, the BAU survived by relying on one another, by acting like a family, and you’d left that family.

Still, there was a rhythm to this kind of work, a flow that was almost painfully easy to fall back into. You’d worked together for years after all, bouncing ideas off of one another like it was nothing and that kind of bond didn’t just go away.

“Admit it,” Derek teased, bumping your shoulder with his as you studied the evidence board, “you missed this.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Oh you so did,” Spencer agreed, leaning against the table next to you and giving you a fond smile, “I’m sorry about the bookstore though, it was the only store in town with a proper selection of classics in their original languages.”

You shrugged, “I’ll get it up and running again soon enough, just as soon as we catch whoever did this.”

“Speaking of our UnSub, what do you think the relevance of him leaving the body in the fiction section is?” Spencer asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to say that this is some kind of fairytale?” Prentiss suggested, “Like he’s trying to draw us into his story?”

“Maybe, but this has gotta be more personal than that, right?” Morgan said, “I mean, this isn’t some body in an alley, it was dumped in an FBI agent’s coffee shop.”

“Ex agent,” you corrected.

“Sure thing, Princess,” Morgan teased.

“Why does everyone keep talking like that?” You asked.

“Because you leaving is ridiculous. You love this job,” He replied simply, “you’ve always loved this job.”

You opened your mouth to respond but, before you could, you heard the clacking of heels against the marble floor.

“Um, guys?” Garcia said, coming into the bullpen with a stormy look on her face, “we just got word from the officer who went to Y/N’s apartment.”

“And?” You asked nervously.

“They found something,”

“Another body?” Prentiss asked.

“No, weirder, a letter and what looks like a smiley face drawn on the wall in blood.” She said, pressing a button to display the new crime scene photos on the big screen.

Your heart froze in your chest.

There it was; a crude smiley face drawn right above your headboard and a crisp white envelope resting against your pillow. He’d made your bed too, some small part of your mind noted. How polite. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest as you were hit with a mixture of panic and disgust.

“Of course,” you sighed, “of course there is. Why wouldn’t there be? It’s been that kind of day.”

“Do we know what the letter says?” Morgan asked.

Garcia nodded, “And it’s a doozy. The letter contains a poem written with letters cut out from magazines and newspapers. It reads:

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain …”

You could feel your friends staring and you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and you could hear the blood pounding in your ears as you thought of a murderer setting foot in your space; him touching your bed, running his hands over the photos on your nightstand, defiling your possessions with his presence. You’d never felt so vulnerable and exposed, and bile rose up in your stomach like your body was physically rejecting the whole thing. Distantly you heard Prentiss and Morgan discussing theories, and you felt one pair of warm brown eyes staring into the side of your head.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like joking around anymore.

“Sorry,” you muttered, standing up and striding out of the room without looking back, “I need some air.”

You were so angry by the time you made it out into the courtyard that you’d balled your hands into fists and your breath was coming out in short little bursts. Hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your chest felt painfully tight.

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer ask.

You sniffed, wiping your face quickly, “Reid, hi. Sorry, I just-“ you let out a slow breath, “I needed a break.”

He nodded like he understood, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stepped towards you. You wanted to tell him to go away, to head back inside and leave you the hell alone, but the words wouldn’t come.

It had always been like this with Spencer. No matter how hard you tried to be tough and brave and put together, he saw right through you and broke down your defenses. At one point, he’d been the closest thing to family you’d ever had, in fact you thought you might…..

Well, it didn’t matter now. Over the last year things had changed, you’d grown apart. It happened, but the fondness was still there, and the trust, and those damn eyes.

“I get it, Y/N, I can't even imagine what this whole thing must be like for you,” he said, “having your home be violated like that….and the store?” He shook his head, “I know how hard you worked setting that place up.”

Your bottom lip trembled and, for the first time that day, you let yourself feel afraid as tears slipped down your cheeks.

You shook your head, “You know, when I saw the glass all over the floor, and all the books….I just felt tired, like bone tired. I wasn’t scared of that, but now?” You paused, glancing up at Spencer, as a tear slid down your cheek, “He was in my home, Spencer. He made my bed before he left, he wrote me a letter.”

Spencer worked his jaw and hesitantly reached out, touching your shoulder gently.

“We’ll catch him, Y/N/N, we always do.” He promised.

“And until then?” You asked, “Do I just pretend it never happened? Go home and act like it’s all okay?”

“No,” another voice cut in from behind you, “you rely on us. We’ll take care of you,” Morgan explained.

“Yeah,” Garcia agreed, her big blue eyes clinging to yours, “We’ve talked about it already. You’ll take turns staying with each of us a few nights a week and then, on the weekends, we’ll all stay with Rossi to go over the case. And we’ll spend every free moment tracking this son of a bitch down for you.”

Emily nodded and, for the first time since you had opened your store that morning, you felt your chest swell with something a little like hope. You knew the BAU was special, you knew that the bonds you’d formed over the years were damn near unbreakable, but this? This was too much. Seeing your friends rally around you when you needed them most just reminded you how much you loved them, and how much they still loved you. Even now. Spencer gave your shoulder a squeeze and you smiled back at him.

“I really missed you guys,” you said with a watery laugh.

Penelope crooned and threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a familiarly bone-crushing hug.

“We missed you too, Sugar Plum,” she promised.

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!” Morgan smiled, joining Penelope’s hug.

“You know we did,” Emily agreed, ruffling your hair and pulling herself in close.

Your eyes found Spencer where he was standing just outside of the group hug, both hands in his pockets and a sad smile on his face. You pressed your lips together and, in response, he nodded.

“We missed you,” he said softly and then, as the hug broke up and you allude your way back inside, even softer, “we still do.”

---------------- 

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

#jordsie #jordsie writes #cm imagine #cm #cm headcanons #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #Penelope garcia #penelope garcia imagine #derek morgan #emily prentiss #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #david rossi

[weasleysjoke]

Daydreaming

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: There were two features of Reid’s that drove you insane: his lips and his hands. You couldn’t help yourself to get horny because of the gestures he made while reading. It got to the point where you embarrassed yourself daydreaming of him.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut, Oral (Female and male receiving), Penetration, Chocking, Dom Specer.

A/N: As I always remind, English is not my first nor second language so if there’s any grammar error please don’t come at me. I had to write this because of my obsession with Matthew’s hands.

Y/N, calm fucking down. There’s people dying and you are being a horny asshole. Breathe and concentrate.

I have to remind myself constantly to keep my eyes on the files and not stare at Dr. Sexy Hands. Spencer and I have been stuck on the commissary, on a little village lost in the middle of nowhere, to keep reading the files of a few suspects that fitted the profile of a murderer we were investigating.

“Y/N, I think I found something.” I hear Spencer’s voice calling me and I turn to give him my full attention. “This guy fits perfectly the profile and his mother died a month ago. That could be enough motive for his psychotic breakdown.” As I read the file of the man, I realize that Reid’s completely right and we start calling the team to let them know.

It only toke us an stressful evening to finish the paperwork and we go back to Virginia on the plane during nighttime. Everybody seem to be extra tired and had fallen sleep just as we sat on the plane. Spence and I were the only ones who were awake, blaming it on the amount of coffee’s that we toke that day.

Reid and I were the only ones sitting by the plane table, both with a book on our hands. To be honest, I was paying 0 attention to the book. Since I started on the BAU a year ago, Spencer and I always had a weird type of tension. Everybody knew I was hella attracted to him, but he didn’t notice any of the many signals threw at him.

He was so fucking oblivious for this type of things. I can believe how a genius profiler couldn’t see that I had the hots for him since day one.

As a profiler there are things that you pick out of people, and even more if you have a crush on them. There were two things that drove me insane about Reid: his lips and his hands.

HIS MOTHERFUCKING HANDS.

On one side, when he started ranting about stuff he knew or was passionate about his lips would dry out. So, with that happening, he had the constant need of travelling his tongue throw his plumped lips to hydrate them.

HE. WAS. CONSTANTLY. LICKING. THEM.

I almost caught myself moaning out loud on the conference room one day that I was extra horny, and Spencer was explaining to me the movie he saw that night. His eyes were fixed on mine and my eyes kept travelling from his to his lips and moving hands. Emily, who sat by my side, smirked and shot me a knowingly look.

On the other side, HIS HANDS. Everybody knew he could read 20.000 words per minute, which was crazy by itself. To help his reading his hands followed rapidly the sentences and flipped the pages with ease.

It may sound stupid, but I got wet several times just watching him read. Reading Reid combined his two most attractive features. His lips moved following the words and his hands accompanied the book pages.

So, after all the tension accumulated in these few days of work, Spencer currently reading by my side felt like a sick joke. A fucking punishment.

All I could think about is how his full lips would feel against your neck, travelling towards your tits and sucking hardly on one of your nipples while the other one was being pinched with his long fingers. How his mouth and hands would feel against your core, his tongue against your clit and one hand against your neck.

You hadn’t realized that everybody had already got off the plane, except for Reid who couldn’t get out of his sit because you were blocking him.

“Y/N!” His hands made a set of movements in front your eyes to wake you from the daydream you were having. His eyes were looking at you worryingly. “Are you okay? You look kinda flushed, maybe you are getting sick.”

“Oh! Sorry, Spence. I was just daydreaming, or more like nightdreaming since it’s 2 am.” I tried to joke.

“Did you know that most people spend 47% of their waking time daydreaming every day? Although, there’s no consistent theory or definition among psychologists on the different types of daydreams.”

To be honest, I did not hear a word he just said. My eyes were locked on his lips and after he said the last word, he drew his lips against his lower lip.

I moaned.

I. FUCKING. MOANED. OUT. LOUD.

Somebody kill me right now.

Embarrassed I falsely coughed. “I didn’t know. That sounds interesting, Reid, but we should leave already. It’s so late.”

Spencer seemed to be speechless because he didn’t say a word just a ‘goodbye’ left his lips after getting to the parking lot.

I fucked it up, I need to talk to Emily and drink a bottle of wine.

“Emily.” I groaned as I hear she picked the call.

“Y/N, I was asleep. What happened? Is there something wrong?” She asked worryingly but annoyed at the same time.

“I messed up. I messed up so badly. I don’t think I can ever look at Spencer’s face again.”

I heard her laugh. “What happened? Do you wanna come to my place and explain it to me?”

“Sure, prepare the wine.” I hang up after hearing her laugh again.

In less than 10 minutes I’m already ringing her door.

“Hey baby, come in.” Emily greeted me and passing me a glass full of white wine.

As I sat down on her sofa, I give a big gulp and sigh. “I moaned. He did his lip thingy while ranting about daydreaming and I spent the whole travel in the plane thinking about him, his hands. You know what he does to me! And then, I was just staring at his lips and couldn’t help myself but moan out loud. I’m so embarrassed.”

Emily starts laughing so much that tears started falling of her eyes. I sigh because I knew that she would react like that and I finish my glass and grab her full glass of wine and finishing it in one gulp.

She stops laughing but a smile is plastered in her face. “How did he react?”

“We made it back to the parking lot without crossing any word. He just muttered a ‘goodbye’ and left.” I sigh again and close my eyes feeling already dizzy because of the wine.

I pour myself another glass and drink it.

Emily stares at me till I finish my third glass. “What if you call him and tell him, finally, that you’ve got the hots for him?”

“You know what?! I’m going to do it.” I pick my phone from the table and ring him.

As he picks up, Emily whispers “Put it on speaker.”

I pressed the speaker option and hear Spencer’s voice: ‘Y/N?”

“Hi, Reid. Remember that I was daydreaming on the plane?” I continue without waiting for a response, but he murmurs a ‘yes’. “All I could think about is about your mouth on my pussy and your hands on my neck.”

“Oh my god” I heard Emily say.

“You don’t fucking know what your lips and hands do to me every time you are reading, and you read a fucking lot, Reid.”

I stop my rant and wait for him to say something, but I’m left waiting.

I sigh on defeat. “I’m sorry, I just thought I had to let you know. I’m not going to make things weird in work and if you want to I can stop talking to you. It would hurt but-“

“Y/N” I hear his voice come out my phone like a growl. “Where are you right now?”

Fuck, I’m wet again.

“I’m at Emily’s right now.” I say unsure.

“Give me 15 minutes, I’m coming.” And then he hangs up.

WHAT?

HE IS COMING?!

TO GET ME?!

“Emily, what did just happen?”

“You are getting laid, my girl.” She says loudly. “Are you wearing cute underwear?”

·

I receive a text from Reid saying to come down and I obey immediately saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘thanks’ to Emily.

I see Reid’s car and just as I got into the passenger sit and put the safety belt, he starts driving.

“Y/N. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fucking sound you made on the plane.” My eyes grew wide and turned to stare at him. “I never thought you could actually be attracted to me, although Morgan and Emily always kept insisting that you did.”

I chuckled. “Spence, I’ve always tried to make you notice me, but you are so fucking oblivious. I thought you didn’t want anything from me.”

“How could I not want anything from you? Are you crazy? You are stunning, funny, and so fucking smart. You’ve everything.” He says staring at me as he just parked in front of his apartment.

His eyes drift off to my lips and proceeds to lick his.

And again, I moan out loud.

“Fuck, Y/N. Let’s get inside before I fuck you right here in the car.”

Jesus-fucking-christ.

I’ve never heard him sound like this, a new kind of confidence occupied his body and it showed.

As we reached the lift, the tension between the two of us was so dense I couldn’t breathe steadily. The door dings and opens, Spencer grabbed my hand and takes me to his apartment. Without waiting a second after closing the door, he led me into his room.

“Sit down.” He ordered me and I don’t hesitate to do it. “Before we start this, I want to tell you that I won’t be gentle. Also, this ain’t going to be a one-time thing, after this I’m going to ask you out on a date. Just so you know that I’m not playing with your feelings or that this is a one-sided thing.”

“Reid, I need your lips on mine, right now.”

“This is the only time I’m going to take an order from you, baby.”

He launched himself over my body and went for my lips. With my bottom lip between his teeth, I opened my mouth granting pass to his tongue. As our tongues dance with each other a loud moan left my mouth.

“Y/N… those fucking sounds are going to be the death of me.” He lifts my weigh while turning around and I end up straddling him. “Remind me again of what you daydreamed back in the plane.” He says while leaving kisses on my check and continued with my jaw.

“You started biting my neck…” he proceeded to do that going for the sweet spot just below my ear. “Fuck.” I moan.

“What else?”

His teeth nipped strongly on my skin and I closed my mouth to try to not make a sound, failing of course.

“I imagined you eating me out and then chocking me.”

He separated his head of my neck and looked at me with a new sparkle in his eyes. “If you behave, I might just do that, baby.”

Between kisses, I toke his shirt off and he toke mine, followed by my bra.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed so many nights about these two. Had to jerk off so many times in my shower thinking about coming onto them.” I moaned at his dirty talk; I should have known he was good with his words in bed too. “Maybe we could do that another time, now I’m going to give my full attention to this right here.” He said while cupping my pussy with his hand.

He pushed me into the bed on my back and toke my pants and underwear off. His mouth traveled between my tits and continued on my abdomen. He started kissing my thighs but every time he got close to where I needed him the most, he started kissing my other thigh.

“Please, Spencer.” I implored.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He arched an eyebrow.

“You know what I want, Reid.”

“Use your words.” He blew air into the center of my core.

“I need you, your tongue, fingers… I don’t care. I need you. PLEASE.”

“If you beg me like that, baby.”

His tongue attacked my clitoris while two of his fingers entered me.

“Spencer!” I screamed.

With a smirk, his tongue continued lapping my clit while his fingers curled inside me. His mouth left my core to give attention to my boobs. His fingers still working in and out and his teeth nipping my nipples was starting to be too much for me. My legs started trembling and sweat was covering every inch of my body. The warm sensation was overwhelming and as he pinched my nipple and bitted the other one, I came.

“Fucking hell Reid.” I moaned. As I came down of my high, he licked his fingers.

“You taste so good, baby. It almost feels like a sin to taste like this, I wanna eat this pussy every day.”

My mouth opened speechless at his words.

Is it possible to be already wet again and ready for more? Because Spencer just had made it possible for me.

“I want those pinks lips wrapped around my cock. Now.”

He grabbed the back of my thighs lifting me up again to straddle him. We get into a deep kiss in which I get to taste myself and help him get out of his pants and boxers. His cock completely erected stood now on his stomach.

Licking my lips hungrily, I went directly to wrap the tip with my lips and tacking it out making a ‘pop’ sound.

“Shit.” He groans.

With the help of my hand, I start slow movements on his length. I take him fully on my mouth earning a loud moan that went directly to the inside of my pussy. His hand grabbed my hair, stopping me for a second.

“Y/N, I’m gonna come in your mouth if you don’t stop.”

“Do it, Reid” I bob my head faster and I toke his balls on my hands massaging them.

“Holy shit.” He growled and came inside my mouth. His saltiness fulling me. “That felt so good baby.” He sighs and cups my face bringing it to his.

We kissed and I smiled. “Now, can I finally have that cock inside my pussy?”

He tucked my hair with his hand making my neck to be on full exposure to his mouth. “Come and ride me baby.” Ordered while attacking my neck again.

He’s going to leave me so many marks.

I positioned my pussy right on his cock and pushed it inside me. We both groaned at the same time.

“You feel so good around me.”

I moaned at his words and started riding him. We both were a moaning mess, but he seemed to get frustrated.

“I need to go faster.” He pushed me into my back. He pushed himself into me, getting more in depth in this new position. My legs were on his shoulders and his cock was deeper than ever. One of his hands traveled to my clit drawing circles on it and his other hand positioned on my neck with a light pressure.

“Harder.” I demanded between moans.

He did what I said and putted more pressure on my neck.

“Y/N, come for me.” As if I just needed to hear him say it, my whole body reacted to his words giving me one of the best orgasms I have ever had.

“Oh my god.” I moaned. My clenched pussy wrapped around him was what he needed to have his release.

“Baby, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” He said lying on his back and getting off me.

We lied catching our breath.

“Same, Spence.”

He then seemed to be on deep thought.

“What are you thinking about?”

“That now, everytime I read all I’m going to think is about you moaning.”

I laugh at his response. “Finally, you will suffer some consequences for being hot without realizing.”

We laugh.

“As I promised,” he started and turned all his body to face mine, “do you wanna go out with me on a date?”

I looked at him sweetly while we cupped my cheek with one hand, getting my hair out my face.

“Of course, idiot. It was time you asked.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid’s hands #spencer x reader #emily prentiss #derek morgan

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 47

Hoseok puts his foot down.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, strangers to friends to ???

Warnings: Strong language

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You follow Wonho out of the private lounge, your head fuzzy with alcohol and despair. How could you not make the connection sooner? Of course there was a reason the police never investigated Seoyeon for Lisa’s disappearance – and now Lisa’s laptop, the only proof that the two were connected, is in the hands of Detective Kang. Seoyeon’s father. Your eyes sweep the club in search of Yoongi. You have to tell him. Eventually you spot him in a corner of the dance floor, hand pressed to his ear. Alone. For a moment you actually start towards him, before the thought hits you like a brick to the skull. He’s dating Seoyeon. How can you trust him, or tell him anything? Hell, what if the rumors are right, and he’s with Seoyeon because Detective Kang has something on him?

“C’mon,” Wonho yells over the deafening bass, “Let’s dance!”

You trail behind him, your eyes still on Yoongi. You’re about to turn away when you notice Hoseok wade through the crowd, with an expression you can barely recognize on his face. Hoseok looks… angry.

The music shifts, and Wonho takes your hand as he dances. You join in halfheartedly, wanting so badly for him to distract you. But now that the police have apparently abandoned your only lead… Is Lisa lost to you forever?

~~~

“Hyung, may I speak to you for a moment?” Hoseok hisses, tugging on Yoongi’s sleeve. One of Yoongi’s hands is pressed to his ear, the other holding his phone. It takes a moment before Yoongi notices Hoseok, his eyes dazed.

“D, one sec,” he says into the phone before turning to the younger man. “Not now. Weren’t you keeping an eye on the girl?”

“That’s the thing. Hyung, she told me some stuff… I really need to talk to you.” Hoseok’s voice is urgent, but Yoongi looks unconvinced. “It’s about Y/n.”

That changes things. Yoongi holds the phone back up to his ear. “Lemme call you back”, he says before hanging up swiftly and turning back to Hoseok. “What is it?”

Hoseok looks around to make sure no one is paying attention to them, but it’s too much to wish for; even in a club exclusive to celebrities, they are members of BTS. They’re big anywhere. There are several sets of eyes turned toward them. “Shit. I can’t tell you everything now, but hyung… stay away from Y/n.”

“Huh?” Yoongi draws back. “You, of all people-”

Hoseok grits his teeth. “Look, I know what I said before, but think about it, hyung! She gains more than anyone from this – practically got famous off of it! Dating you, the drama, all of it. Seoyeon said she has a video from inside our apartment – who else has had access?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, you’re wrong.”

Hoseok pauses. “I know we need to take everything Seoyeon says with a big grain of salt, but think about it. Y/n’s an ARMY, remember. She lied to us, to you, this whole time. You only pretended to date because of that photo on Twitter – hyung, who gained the most from that? You need to ask yourself-”

“Just shut up, Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi snaps, his eyes narrowing. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. None.”

“But hyung-”

“I’m done with this shit. I’m going home.” Hoseok watches Yoongi call their chauffeur and arrange to be picked up. He starts making his way back to the entrance, but Hobi grips his arm.

“I was trying to help, idiot!” Hoseok hisses. “All she’s done is lie to you. Have you ever considered you’re too lovesick to see right through her?”

Yoongi rips away from Hoseok, and for a second Hoseok thinks Yoongi might hit him. Instead he simply speaks, voice cold. “You don’t know anything.”

With that, Yoongi fights his way to the bar through the crowd of bodies, pulling a drunk Seoyeon along with him outside. Hoseok watches him go, mind racing. He had warned Y/n never to hurt Yoongi; Hoseok always protected his family, and the members were as much a part of that as his own sister. Hoseok had trusted Y/n – they all had. Had she truly been lying to them this whole time?

He looks around helplessly, just in time to see Jungkook pulling on Y/n. He and Taehyung join her and Wonho in dancing, and though Y/n is smiling, there’s a stiffness in her movements, and her focus seems far away. Hoseok can feel his blood begin to boil. If Seoyeon was telling the truth, then Y/n arranged her own attack and used it to manipulate Hoseok’s friends.

Almost unconsciously, he makes his way to the group. “Guys, let’s get going home!” He shouts over the music.

Jungkook whines and Taehyung laughs, clearly buzzed. “But we’re having fun!”

“It wasn’t a question,” Hoseok replies. Your eyes flick towards him – have you noticed something is wrong? “C’mon, Y/n.”

“I can drive you back later if you don’t want to leave right now, Y/n.” Wonho offers. Hoseok looks between you and him.

“No, she needs to come back with us.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it if Wonho drives me,” you say, barely heard over the beat.

“In case you’ve forgotten, that outfit you’re wearing isn’t yours, is it?” Hoseok snaps. “You need to return it.”

He sees you blink twice, clearly surprised. “Right. Okay. Let me grab my bag.”

“Taehyung, Kook, grab Joon and Jin hyung. I’ll get Jimin. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

When Y/n and the other members have wandered away, Wonho fixes Hoseok with a stare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, why do you care?”

“Isn’t she your friend? Because you didn’t treat her like one just now. Or are you going the way of your asshole friend?”

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. So this is Yoongi’s reputation, thanks to Y/n? “I don’t answer to you.” If Wonho responds, he doesn’t hear him; Hoseok turns to track Jimin down. He’s dancing in the middle of the floor, his loose silk shirt exposing a collarbone shining with sweat. Stars surround him, whooping and clapping. Hoseok pushes his way through the crowd until he’s close enough that Jimin can hear him.

“We’re going,” Hoseok says, pulling at the younger man’s sleeve.

Jimin nods, panting, and follows them. It isn’t long until the eight of them are once more settled in the limo.

~~~

You anxiously twist the handles of your purse in your hands. The ride is much quieter than it was on the way to Club Xyon – although it was only hours prior, you feel like you’ve aged centuries. Taehyung has fallen asleep leaning on your shoulder, and Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, and Seokjin are playing some sort of rock-paper-scissors drinking game. You’re impressed by their tolerance. Hoseok sits in the corner, far more quiet than he had been this evening. You can’t blame him – you’ve barely spoken either since the realization that not even the police can help you find your best friend.

The driver stops in the parking garage of the boys’ apartment building. One by one, they stumble out, with Seokjin supporting a still-sleepy Taehyung. You move for the door as well, but for a voice behind you: “Just a minute, Y/n.”

You turn. Hoseok is still sitting in the car, eyes trained on you. The scene feels eerily familiar. “What’s up?”

“I was just talking to Seoyeon earlier,” Hoseok drawls, and you flinch at the name. “She said some very interesting things. That she wasn’t following Yoongi hyung; she was following orders to track you. She didn’t follow hyung to the lamppost – she was told where to go, to take that photo. And that whoever was giving her orders – that she has videos, taken from inside our apartment, of us.” Hoseok crosses his arms. “So tell me, Y/n, who might have that kind of access?”

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “I-”

Hoseok holds up a hand. “Let me ask you another question. Did it feel good, having his pity? Lying to him? That photo did mean you’d have to have a public relationship with hyung. And of course, there’s no better way to get famous, is there?”

“N-No, I didn’t-” It’s getting harder to breathe – is there no more air in the limo? And is this what he really thinks of you? “She’s lying – how could you believe her, over me?”

Hoseok stares at you. “You’ve lied to us too, Y/n.”

The tears you’ve been fighting well up and overflow, falling freely down your cheeks. Your chest heaves, and you feel yourself on the verge of panic. “Hobi, please – I thought we were friends. You said we’d always be friends.”

For a moment, you see Hoseok’s stoic expression crack. “That was before I knew you were the reason hyung is going half-crazy tracking down a girl he’s never met and tolerating the company of a fucking psychopath!”

“W-what?”

“He barely sleeps, barely talks to us…” Hobi’s voice lowers, but it’s still steely. “I warned you, Y/n. You’re our friend, and I really believed in you, but if you used hyung for fame, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

You reach for the handle of the door and find it locked. “Let me out,” you whisper. Hoseok doesn’t move for a moment. “Dammit, Jung Hoseok, let me out of this car!”

Hoseok knocks on the limo divider, and the car doors unlock. You grab for the handle and stumble out of the car, lip trembling as you walk away. “Your acting career would’ve gotten off the ground without using him, Y/n,” Hoseok calls behind you. “You’re a great liar.”

Once you’re out of the parking garage, you start running. Your feet ache in these boots, and your chest burns with holding off another episode as long as you have. Eventually you stop in a small park, gasping for breath. You’re completely lost, and for the first time, the darkness is more terrifying than comforting. Sinking down at last, you clutch at the Starry Night charm, sobbing freely. You’re so cold.

You’re crying so hard you barely hear footsteps approaching.

“Y/n?”

#bts #bangtan #bts au #suga #yoongi #min yoongi #bts suga #bts yoongi #fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabble #bts series #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi drabble #yoongi au #idol!au #actress!au #yoongi x reader #bts idolverse #idol!yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfction #bts fic #yoongi fic #strangers #suga fic #ftl #angst