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sciencewithottsnpotts · 1 year

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The Family Business

Criminal Minds x Winchester!Sister

BAU Team x Supernatural Reader

Saving People Part Three and Final Ending to the Saving People Trilogy :)

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What an accomplishment it was, to be 19 and living a good life. You were interning at a law firm when your Boss got called in on a priority case, and you were the lucky duck who got to go with him to carry around all his paperwork. But you didn't mind- cause you knew pencil pushing would eventually lead to taking leads on cases. Normally, your Boss worked on the side of the DA's office, prosecuting criminals to the full extent of the law. But this case was an exception. Y'all had been hired to be counsel to a suspect in a major murder investigation. And low and behold, the group of individuals running the case just so happened to be the FBI's BAU.

You watched Hotch's reaction as your Boss pushed past him into the interrogation room to interrupt Derek Morgan in his stare down with your new client. All of the agents that currently occupied the room looked affronted but unsurprised at your Boss's appearance. Though none noticed you standing in the doorway until a certain computer tech had to get into the room.

"Excuse me. So sorry," she sang as she glided into the room. It was then that a certain individual with eidetic memory turned around and saw your face.

"Y/n Winchester?"

That name had everyone whipping around. Your smile was genuine as you gazed back on them.

"Hello guys. Long time no see."

"Winchester? Why does that sound so familiar?" Came Garcia's cheery voice.

"Because we got to work together 4 years ago. On what the news dubbed the "Sacrificial Spree Murders" that consumed upwards of 80 deaths once you got those perpetrators to confess."

"Holy shit. That's right!" Emily Prentiss's face was kind even in its shock. Though everyone's perceptions changed when Hotch spoke.

"I also recall you conveniently disappearing when said confessions happened before you went MIA for 6 months."

You couldn't help but blush at that. "Heh- yeah. Fight or flight- ya know? You no longer needed me with those confessions, and I was getting antsy from having been in the same place for too long. So- I bolted. Besides. I didn't need you guys tracking me to figure out where I parked my car or putting a gps device in the wheel well. I know you're with the government- and that's exactly why I didn't trust you."

"Fair enough I guess," commented JJ. "Especially since those guys got effectively sentenced without your testimony. My question would be- why are you here now?"

All attention was on Jennifer Jareu as she asked that question. But before you could answer, distinct yelling came from the interrogation room where your Boss was making his way to the door with your new client.

"Interrogating my client without offer to counsel is against this man's given rights. It is because of this we will be taking our leave unless you can provide a valid warrant for his arrest?"

Before Hotch could get a word in edge-wise your Boss paced forward.

"Exactly what I thought. Here is my card," with a snap of his fingers you had handed him a business card to give to Hotch, "And you can contact me or my intern with any future desires to reach out to my client. Good day, Agent Hotchner." And just like that he was marching out with the potential Unsub in tow.

"Aaaaaaaand that's my cue. Gotta follow the boss cause I have the keys to the Mercedes. It was nice seeing you guys- though I don't know if I'd call this "better circumstances". I guess I'll be seeing you around. Bye!"

And just as suddenly as you'd appeared to them, you were gone.

"Who the hell was that?" Came Morgan's voice as he stared around at his team as they watched the practical (familiar) teenager leave the room.

"That," explained Rossi, "Was one Ms. Y/N Winchester."

"Wait- Winchester as in that psycho-genius from that Sacrificial Murder Spree?"

"The very one- so it would seem." Prentiss said, a quizzical look on her face.

"What the hell is she doing working in a law firm? More importantly how? She's like 18!"

"If memory serves she would actually be 19 going on 20 as she had turned 16 by the time the case was wrapping up." Spencer buttoned his suit jacket, as he collected his bag and made his way from the observation room, now made obsolete with no one to observe.

The rest of the team merely looked at each other, before following him out to re-strategize in the conference room.

—————————

"Winchester," you're boss said, as you drove him and your client to the hotel. You looked up into the rear view, as he was sat in the back conspiring with the potential Unsub.

"Yes, sir," you acknowledged.

"Do me a favor when we get back to the hotel and call up your brother. We're going to need all the assistance we can on this one, if we're going against the FBI instead of working with them."

A trickling sense of unease slithered down your spine and coiled in your stomach. Call my brother?

"My – uh – brother sir?"

"Yes, Samuel."

Sammy, you want to say. "And why would we need him, sir?"

The look on your boss's face is incredulous. "Why would- you think you got hired because of your grades kid? Shit no, this industry is all about connections. Winchester is a powerful name in these courts. You're here so I have a solid line directly to the big man. So call him. We'll need all the wisdom we can get."

"Yes, sir. Will do." Is all you can say. Samuel Winchester the Lawyer? What kind of weird alternate reality was this? Did you fuck with the wrong dragon that stole a magical charm and get thrust into another world that mimics this one?

No, you think, you remember too much, and far too little at the same time. Because that's the truth. You remember your mother and her funeral. Your father and your brothers. Dean's mother hen attitude, Sam's healthy fitness lifestyle. Hunting. You remember all of it. You even remember Dean taking the Mark. The demon possessing him. Hell- literally. You even remember the case with the BAU. Every last detail of it. Getting captured, getting the girls out, going to the police, and...

You don't remember actually catching the bad guys.

But the BAU did! They said you bolted. And that sounds like something you'd do, but you can't actually remember it.

Why can't you remember it?!

"Winchester- watch out!"

"What?"

The sound of a truck horn has you zoning back in, though too late. You swerve, in an attempt to avoid the head on collision, and instead loose control of the vehicle, speeding uncontrollably off the edge into a deep forested drop below. There's screaming, and yelling, and a whole lot of fear.

This is not how I thought I'd go out! You think, closing your eyes and bracing for impact.

You feel yourself fall, and hit the ground. But it's far more mild than you expected. There's no screaming any more, no smoke. In fact, you're lying on linoleum tiles.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry, are you ok miss?" You know that voice.

You pick your head and yourself from the ground, to see Spencer Reid of the BAU, reaching around a door, shock and remorse clear in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I'm ok, I think."

There it was again, the coiling unease, it was growing.

"Ah, Ms. Winchester, what brings you back to the precinct?"

You look around, surprised to see that, yes, you are back in the precinct. The one you had just left yesterday. When you got in a car crash.... Only you didn't.

Why were you back?

"We've brought back our client," your boss says behind you, exasperated.

Suspicion crosses Spencer's features, "Pray tell, for what reason. For you both left quite confident and angered yesterday."

"He wishes to make a deal." came another voice further down the hall your boss was standing in.

Your blood runs cold. You know that voice. Leaning around your boss, you see, of all people, Sam Winchester. And he's in a suit. And his hair- oh Chuck his hair!! It's cut short, and slicked back. He- he- he looks- jeez, he looks like a prick.

It doesn't take long for everyone to gather in the conference room, a camera set up in the corner, to record the whole room and this odd interaction. You sat against the same wall the cameras on, claiming to stay in the back ground to observe. Which, technically isn't wrong.

You were mostly trying to figure out, what in all of HELLS HALF ACRE WAS GOING ON!!

You were silently freaking out, and don't know how you managed to keep your face so neutral. Cause there was Sammy. Your brother Sam, dressed up in an expensive pin-stripe suit, hair all wrong, face too cold, working with your boss and client (do you even know their names?? Who are these people?) sitting across from the FB-fucking-I!

How do you not remember anything before this. Why don't you remember the arrests from the Murder Spree case like the team does?? Why didn't you die last night when the car went off the highway? Was that even last night?

For the love of all that is holy- what the HELL WAS GOING ON!

Your distress must have been obvious to everyone in the room, for it was Agent Prentiss who addressed you. "Are you alright Y/N?"

You look up in shock, ripped from your internal break down, and realize that everyone in the room is looking at you. You had to get out of there.

"Um, actually... no, I'm not." Your hand comes up to your head, pushing on one of your temples, while the other lays against the wall for balance. "I have a killer head ache that came out of nowhere. I think I may have a concussion from my collision in the hallway." You wince, hoping the lie is believable.

"What collision?" Asked Hotchner.

"That would be my fault," came Reid, "I opened the bathroom door to quickly, and preceded to hit Ms. Winchester with it." Remorse was evident in his voice. But you didn't care. This was all wrong.

You wanted to leave. You needed to leave.

Your panic must've shown through some, for it's your brother who speaks next. "Why don't you go to the break room and get some water, then find an observation room to lie down in the dark. We'll come get you when we're done here."

"That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Sammy."

You don't see the confusion that crosses your brothers face at the nickname. He was Samuel to most, Sam to few and well, hadn't been Sammy since you were 12. At least here.

But you didn't know that. And you didn't care to. You speed walk to the break room, lowering your hand from your head, only when your in the seclusion of the room. The windows in the room are fortunately covered by their blinds for now. You grab a drink of water as you were told. But your growing panic doesn't let you sit.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Run.

Wrong.

Run.

Wrong.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

WRONG!

Over and over it screams in your head. You begin pacing the floor. Mug squeezed so tightly in your hands, your knuckles are white and your fingers are red.

This is wrong! You slam your mug and hands onto the counter, frustrated. The surface clinks underneath the impact. And that's when you see the drawer in the cabinetry.

You rip it open with a bang! At first glance it's all tongs and serving spoons. But buried under the layers of grimy and unorganized plastic wear you see it- a knife.

The tarnished reflection it shows in the horrid florescent lighting tells you the only truth you need- it's silver.

You hop to the fridge next, squished between the counter and the sink you had drank from earlier. The chances were low.

But there, inside that fridge was a fuck ton of brown butcher-paper-wrapped slabs of meat that said "Loui's Lambs. Best Chops in the State!" As well as a sticky note saying thank you to the cops or some shit for a stupid fundraiser.

You skip that useless information and instead look for the messiest wrapping on all the products. The one that was the juiciest, leaking the most, promising to be the bloodiest. Instead, you found a plastic Tupperware container, like the one you get potato salad in at the deli, full of "spare bits". Hey- don't hate- that's what it was labeled as, that was not your doing.

But it was full, and it was bloody. And it was as you starred at the two contents filling either hand, knife and bits, you realize why this doesn't feel right.

Your vision flashes. Dark warehouse halls, the dripping echo of an old abandoned and leaking building. Two men, one with dark and one with light hair. Tattoos, hidden under layers of grimy clothes. Glowing eyes.

"Djinn."

You whisper it, but the sinking in your stomach makes it feel like your yelled it. Djinn. It explained everything. Sam, the lack of memories, the glitch when the car almost crashed. The migraine! You were losing blood. You were loosing it fast. Cause these men didn't take long to act. You remember. Leaving the precinct, the day you brought back the girls, sneaking off to your car and searching out the two men.

Only back then you hadn't known about ask the tattoos that lingered beneath the dirty sleeves of your captors. You thought they were just human psychos. You remember it now. You remember it all. You also remember the only way to escape this dream world.

Your death.

You glance at the knife again. Putting the blood back into the fridge. You wouldn't need it. Because there was no djinn here. Not in this world. No, this world was controlled by djinn.

You slip the knife very carefully up your blouse sleeve and make your way from the break room to the bathroom. You double the act of the headache. One hand gripping your forehead, the other pressed against your stomach to keep the knife hidden in your blazer.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, headache and nausea becoming quite real as you physically lost more blood to the djinn.

Chuck you hoped this worked. You were a Winchester for fuck's sake. Dying at the hands of a djinn, was not in your "Top 10 Ways to Die as a Winchester" list.

You rushed into the bathroom and then the biggest stall, falling down as a harsh pang shot across your head.

Why did your mouth feel so dry suddenly?

You pulled the knife out from your sleeve with shaking hands. Carefully, you lined the blade up with your heart. Just as you were ready to act, the creaking of the door broke through your pounding head.

"Y/N? Are you in here? Are you alright?" called out one Emily Prentiss. A vision of her flashes before you at the sound of her voice. Of FBI Agents swarming an abandoned warehouse. Flashlights swinging across the darkness. Voices calling "CLEAR" as they pass through rooms. An echo of Emily's voice as she lifts your head, the rest of the team following behind her. And a shadow and a flash of blue.

"No!" you shout, bringing the blade down, stabbing yourself in this dream world.

"Y/N!" Emily's voice is urgent now. You blearily look down and see blood quickly pooling on the floor, hands going numb. The door bursts open, Emily standing above you with horror on her face. A shadow forms behind her, magic blue eyes and arms of tattoos visible in your fading vision.

The last thing you can process in this false world is the word "duck" before the world goes white.

—————————

The beeping of the heart monitor is almost lulling to the team as they sit in your hospital room. All six of them crammed into the small emergency room, waiting for you to wake up. If Strauss or anyone higher up were to ask why all of them were waiting there, Hotch was prepared with the "protocol" argument. They needed to interview you, be assured of your safety, be prepared to get CPS involved if needed, and all that other red-tape type shit.

The real reason, though, was you had saved them. Barely conscious from the head trauma visible on your forehead you had stabbed the unsub, while laying in Prentiss's arms, as he attempted to kill her himself. Then you somehow managed to pull yourself up, half alive and still bleeding to death, to follow the sounds of gun shots and end the life of the other Unsub who wasn't falling, despite having over five bullets in his chest. They don’t even know where you got the knife from.

The team had been in shock as they watched their respective suspects die. Blue flashing from their eyes, the light of their tattoos dying with them as they collapsed to the ground. Morgan and JJ, both of whom had fallen victim to the magic of the djinn, awoke with a gasp as the last one fell. You falling alongside the second one had the team acting fast. Ambulance already on standby they got you rushed to the hospital. You had to have three blood transfusions. One in the ambulance on the way, and two more once you got to the hospital and your neck wound was stitched up. Doctors state you had lost about 30% of your blood before you had finally passed out. It was that fact that left the team truly speechless. By all rights you should have been unconscious and on the brink of death by the time the found you.

And yet, in their attempt to save you from the unsubs, you saved them. They had all seen the man with blue eyes and blue tattoos survive the gun shots, as he got his hands on their team mates, knocking them unconscious with a glowing hand. It was impossible, what they saw. Morgan refused to speak about what he dreamed about for the short period of time he was under. JJ looked haunted, but was writing it all down in the notepad she had found in the back of the SUV. Prentiss had tossed her jacket to the side, as it was covered in the blood from the first unsub, who had almost succeeded in doing the same to her, or worse. Reid sat in the corner, replaying the days events in his mind on a loop, trying to justify things and fill them in with fact when there was mostly only the impossible. Hotch and Rossi stood in the corners, worrying over their team and their wellbeing, processing everything as well.

This job had become more of a headache than it was probably worth, and was going to be a boat-load of paperwork. But one thing they could focus on were simple facts and truth.

The unsubs were no longer a worry, but other impossible worries lingered in everyone's minds.

Yet, as sherlock once said, "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." And so the truth stood. The unsubs who had died were no ordinary men. They weren't natural. Nor was it some kind of extreme technology that allowed them to be what they were. No matter how much Reid and the team didn't want to accept it there was only one option that truly remained. The supernatural just might be real.

And you had a lot of questions to answer when you finally woke back up.

__________________

You hated hospitals. You hated cops (Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum excluded). You hated people who refused to understand your world. You hated monsters, specifically the ones who enjoyed hurting people. You hated your dad for bringing your family into this world. You had a lot of unresolved anger and trauma to work through. Not to mention the echo of your djinn induced dream haunting your sleepless nights.

But you were grateful to now have the BAU partially on your side. You didn't have to worry so much about having them tracking you. And while they weren't quite ready to absolve your brothers of their "Most Wanted" status, most of them did not see you as a potential threat. Instead you had made a deal. You'd keep a reliable form of contact with them, and they'd be sure to reach out for a consultation should a case start looking a little... unnatural.

And as you drove away in one of the bunker's many vintage cars you had stowed away outside of town, you couldn't help but smile at how things had somehow, for once in your short Winchester life, ended relatively well.

Your peace of mind is interrupted by a chirp on one of your many cellular devices. A note from Sam.

Black eyes have been turned back to green. Next task: find a solid stain remover for this Mark. You able to come home to lend a hand with the laundry and pest control?

The relief that flooded through you at knowing Dean was finally demon-less was strong. Foot pushing heavy on the pedal you blast some music, and text back a simple response.

Wayward's coming home. Tell mother hen I say "Hey". See y'all soon.

Being a Winchester wasn't easy and it was never boring. But hey, you know how it goes.

Saving People. Hunting Things.

The Family Business.

_________________________________________________

Aaaaaaaaand we're finally done!!! Ah that's crazy! This has taken so long (literally over a year I am soooooo sorry) and has been through so many rewrites. But I'm so happy to have finally created an ending I'm happy with, and I hope you are too. Do timelines match up between the two shows? absolutely not, but that's not important lol. Thank you all who have followed along on this little trilogy! You're engagement is so encouraging, and your patience is appreciated.

One note I would like to add: Suicide is no joke, and is never an ACTUAL answer to our problems and struggles. I plead to everyone here, that if you are having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, depressions, or even possible hallucinations to please seek help and treatment. There is nothing wrong with you, and you're allowed to ask for help. Remember, someone does actually care, even if you feel alone, and there is always a future, even if it seems bleak now.

Thank you all again!

Tags: (I hope I did this right)

@sylum @ampal98 @singhfae @supernerdycookietrashblr

@super-sexy-agent-hotchner (I don’t think this one works)

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qrjung · 8 months

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Character headcanons and thoughts: Perkins & Allen

PERKINS

I think he knows androids are sentient but he doesn't really care much. To him, they're a threat to national security and the human race. Androids are a mistake that should have never been created. This could be because of something personal that happened or just something he strongly believes.

Sure, one could argue that Perkins is "following orders" but this one feels like an order he's more than happy to obey. He probably even asked for the case to be assigned to him.

Outside of work, he has kids, he loves them but is terrible at showing it and this has driven a rift between them. I'd say his kids would be teenagers or young adults. They find that he's a bit too obsessive about his job.

He doesn't have a partner though

Perkins is good at his job because his personal philosophy is "at all costs". This ties in with him not caring whether androids are sentient or not; they're a threat and he will get rid of them "at all costs". He's willing to have human casualties if it means the greater human population is safe

Doesn't trust Cyberlife and has never owned an android in his life. Even though he and Cyberlife technically have similar goals tol "destroy Markus, end the revolution", Perkins thinks they shouldn't just stop at ending the revolution. End Cyberlife too and all the mess they keep causing. This strong dislike of Cyberlife has also leaked into why he hates androids.

He doesn't like President Warren either. She's a Cyberlife implant and he doesn't trust her. He doesn't like how much slack she's cutting Cyberlife or how much she lets their shit slide. He also definitely doesn't like how she keeps messing with Russia to get thirium for Cyberlife. But for the deviancy case, their goals happen to align. And she's also technically his boss; not much he can do about that.

He avoids close confrontation. He's more suited to office work or strategizing. He lets other people do the dirty work/field work.

He drinks his coffee black; bitter, just like him.

Perkins' gallery calls him "The Jackal" and explains this;

Nicknamed "The Jackal" due to his icy temperament, lacking sense of humor and his solitary nature, he is hated by most of his colleagues. On the other hand, his superiors consider him a reliable and efficient agent, which leads him to being entrusted with the most delicate of cases which nobody other than him would want.

I don't know if the people who gave him this nickname were trying to be funny or something because Jackal's are usually known for being cunning and mischievous not "lacking sense of humor" but Jackals are scavengers and they feed on carcasses of dead animal. They eat the things that most other animals wouldn't; the same way Perkins takes on cases other people avoid. It's a neat symbolism.

I would have loved to see Perkins in action, doing his job. We never get to see this and I think it undermines his role as the overarching villain. Why am I supposed to be concerned about a bad guy if I don't know how much of a threat he is?

A scenario I keep imagining is him finding Simon before Connor does and somehow Simon doesn't kill himself before he is captured (I know there's no way Simon would allow himself to get captured but shhhh)

Then we get to have an interrogation scene. Imagine he knows androids are just as conscious as humans, he'll treat Simon like any other suspect. Not because he's feeling nice but because he knows Simon is scared and afraid and he'll toy with that and try to drag as much information out of him as possible (because he's an asshole)

This will give us an opportunity to see what Perkins is capable of and it will definitely end badly so the player gets to be even more sad about it.

ALLEN

He doesn't really have an opinion on androids. I think he's pretty neutral and unless an android is getting in the way of him doing his job (see. Connor) or threatening people's safety (see. Daniel) he doesn't care much for them.

Sometimes though, he's unsettled by androids and he becomes unsure if they're actually "alive" or not. Sometimes, they do things. For instance, he always seems disturbed or disappointed if and android kills themselves in front of him (like if Connor jumps of the rooftop or if you fail to save Emma and Daniel jumps with her).

The Daniel case was the first time he encountered a deviant. He kept thinking about it for weeks afterwards.

I think he would be like Hank; he'd need a personal connection with an android and for the android to prove themselves real before he can start to feel strongly about them. Unlike Hank though, he'll never idealize androids or say their "superior to humans" (even if they technically are).

He doesn't have a family or a partner. He has never wanted one and when he was younger he never even considered it. (also; aroace Allen. Change my mind.)

Doesn't trust Cyberlife either. No matter what he feels about androids, he'll always dislike Cyberlife.

He hasn't gotten good sleep in years.

He has a dog. He seems like a dog person.

In terms of his relationship with the other people in the DPD;

He rarely talks with Gavin. When they do happen to be in close proximity with each other, Gavin tries to start up a conversation but he just glares at him until the air becomes awkward and tense and Gavin leaves him alone.

He's known Hank from a distance, even before he became Captain. He's seen Hank go from a decorated officer to a depressed man who can barely keep his job and like most people he pities Hank.

He and Fowler are friends. They give a similar vibe.

Perkins and Allen are ironically the humans we see behave like machines the most. They're always following orders and have missions to accomplish and they believe that's all that matters. Do I think they would be friends? No. Just because Perkins is too anti-social.

But you know who I'd love to see with Perkins? Connor. Imagine them working together guys, just think about it. Especially if it's the machine route. That's two main antagonists teaming up and Markus has to deal with them both.

#Perkins is a lot shorter than I remember #he's 5'5 #he didn't look all that much shorter than Markus though #detroit become human #dbh allen #dbh perkins #type: text

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agentcable · 15 days

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Chicago Justice Season 1 Ep. 12 "Fool Me Twice"

The team is investigating the shooting of a man who was left for dead. However, they are facing a roadblock due to the presence of other detectives who are also working on the same case. Later, Nagel discloses that the victim was her confidential informant. As a result, Stone prohibits her from working on the case because of her proximity to it.

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

Laura Nagel rushes to the hospital to be with her friend Lizzie. Lizzie's brother Eric has been shot three times, and they are unsure if he will survive. Laura leaves as soon as Lizzie's boyfriend, Manny, arrives, instructing her to call as soon as Eric wakes up.

Nagel arrives at the crime scene where they found seven casings around Eric's bullet-riddled car. She pauses when she sees blood on the cracked windshield. Ken Banks introduces himself and Dt. Steve Kim from narcotics to her. She is confused about their presence but quickly learns that they found a kilo of heroin on the floor of Eric's car.

Nagel returns to the ASA office and shares the case with Peter Stone. She tells him that Eric Cates was her confidential informant and that it was Eric's information that helped convict Jason, a felon who ran the Death King's stash house. Stone wonders if Jason arranged for Eric's murder in Statesville. Nagel informs him that Jason's younger brother, Jerome, now leads the gang and suspects that he discovered Eric was her informant. stone explains that it is now a case for the Chicago Police Department, but Nagel insists that people like Eric risk their lives to help them. Stone advises her to gather information discreetly and avoid interfering with the investigation.

Laura informs Antonio that they can investigate the case. Before Antonio can question her, she asks if he is coming. They visit Jerome at his car dealership, where Laura suggests they review his books to check for money laundering or ask him a few question. Jerome denies being in a gang since they imprisoned his brother, Jason. Jerome claims he has not seen Eric Cates in a few years. Nagel does not believe him and suggests that he obtains the books. Jerome reiterates that he is not involved and that Eric worked for his brother. However, if Eric was hijacked, it was from Ricky Marscak's crew.

Dt. Banks informed Nagel that a good Samaritan reported witnessing the shooting. Although he did not see Marscak, he saw a red Chevy, and given the red Chevy and drug heist, they immediately suspected Ricky Marscak. Kim emerged from the interrogation room, stating that Marscak claimed he was with a woman until 3 am, but he did not know her name. Nagel then entered the interrogation room and revealed that Eric Cates was still alive. Marscak expressed relief, hoping that Eric could confirm that he did not shoot him.

After leaving the precinct, she takes Antonio back to the hospital. Eric denies that the heroin found in his car belongs to him. According to him, he was driving home on a one-way street when a car approached him. Two men got out of the car, but he couldn't identify them due to the bright lights shining in his eyes. He reversed his car and doesn't remember anything else. He claims that he couldn't see anything, but he would have noticed if the car was red.

Anna Valdez is surprised that they have a witness since it is such a rarity. Nagel finds the witness statement a bit suspicious because he said there was only one guy, but Eric says there were two. The witness mentioned the red Chevy, but Eric is sure he would have remembered that. However, the witness doesn't even have a parking ticket, so he is a model citizen.

Antonio and Laura returned to the crime scene and decided to visit Jerry Burrows, the witness. However, upon arriving at the apartment, Burrows' son Bobby informed them that his father was out driving as he worked as a cab driver. During lunch, Laura questioned why Burrows chose to report the incident to narcotics instead of going to the nearest precinct, which was only a couple of blocks away.

Antonio suggested that Laura was too emotionally invested in the case and couldn't see things clearly. She explains that she grew up with Eric. When her dad drank too much, Eric's mother took her in. Antonio reveals that Jerry may be clean, but his son has been arrested twice for intent to distribute. Six months ago, he was arrested for statutory rape of a 15-year-old. She asks why he wasn't in prison, and Antonio learns that the charges were dropped on the same day that cocaine charges were filed by Dt. Banks and Dt. Kim.

Banks and Kim quickly express their belief that Bobby was not a major player and would be more useful to them on the street. Banks asserts that Bobby became an informant after they released him. Laura finds it suspicious that their informant's father is a witness in a shooting they are investigating. Kim becomes angry at the implication that they are lying. Laura and Antonio return to question Jerry Burrows, who insists he saw the red truck and rushes back into the house.

Laura returns to the hospital, where Eric offers to say the car was red if she wants him to. She declines and begins to reminisce about their childhood. She apologizes for putting a target on his back, but he maintains that the heroin is not his.

Stone and Anna meet with Antonio and Laura to review the case. Antonio explains that the heroin was only 10% pure. He investigated similar cases involving murders and found three cases with no arrests. All three cases happened in the past 24 months and have the same gang connection: the 23rd Street Jokers, who are still in a turf war with the Death Kings. Jason ordered all four shootings, and the same detectives are investigating all four cases. Anna is shocked to learn that Banks and Kim may be covering up the murders, and Laura suggests that they may even be the ones committing the crimes. Stone advises them not to jump to conclusions and reminds them that their first priority is to prove that Jerome knew about Eric Cates' betrayal of his brother.

Eric did not reveal that he snitched and implies that someone discovered it on their own. Nagel requests protection for Eric during her meeting with his sister, Lizzie. Laura discovers that Lizzie disclosed their secret to her boyfriend, Manny.

Nagel interrogates Manny, who confesses that he owed Jerome $10,000 and mentioned that he had a contact in the ASA office who could help him if he needed anything. She asked if he mentioned her name. When he said no, she told him he would be carged with conspiracy to commit murder. He choked and admitted he told Jerome her name. Laura and Antonio returned to the Ferrari dealership, and she arrested Jerome.

Stone observed as Laura and Antonio interrogated Jerome. Laura played him a recording of Banks and Kim's statements, claiming they were following his orders on the other murders. Jerome was shocked they turned on him, but his attorney told him to be quiet. Jerome desired a deal, but was informed that it was not possible. However, Stone arrived and presented him with an offer: one murder in exchange for a reduction of one-third of his sentence. Despite his lawyer's counsel to the contrary, Jerome accepted the deal.

Antonio meets Banks at a bar, and they reminisce about a bust they did years ago. Antonio admires Banks and wanted to be like him. Meanwhile, Laura arrives at Kim's home while he is having dinner with his family. As two police cruisers arrive to take him, Kim tries to close the door, but Laura holds it open. After Kim is taken into custody, Laura calls Antonio. Antonio orders Banks to leave the bar as if they are friends, or he will arrest him in front of his "fans". Mark Jefferies and Peter Stone are standing outside.

In court, the judge hears about the detectives' decorated work history. However, Anna shares that they are both charged with four violent felonies as paid assassins. She sets their bail at $250,000 each.

Both attorneys meet with Stone and Anna, stating that they shot to kill when Cates came racing towards them in his vehicle. Stone admits that they took off, leaving Cates for dead. The attorney explains that they panicked. They are willing to plead guilty to leaving the scene. Anna says Jerome will testify that he hired them, but they scoff, claiming he is an infamous gangster who will say anything to save himself.

Forensics cannot verify their distance when they shot at Cates, but there is gunshot residue in the detectives' car. Anna discovers that the dash cam in the car was never turned on, but it turns on a minute before the sirens are activated. However, Anna cannot explain how it works.

In the office, there is an audio recording of the detectives preparing for and shooting Cates. Apparently, they did not know that the recording starts as soon as the siren is activated. Anna explains that she noticed the camera is always recording because it cannot detect when a siren will occur. Stone is impressed with her work and instructs her to make copies and send them to the defense counsel.

In the judge's chambers, the attorneys, Stone, and Anna listen to the audio. The judge instructs them to begin discussing deals, but one person protests, stating that the police required a warrant to bug their own vehicle, making this recording a violation of their Fourth Amendment rights. The judge rules that the recordings are admissible.

Dt. Kim's attorney visits Stone's office to explain the truth about Kim, his partner, and Jerome. Kim is willing to go to jail for as long as necessary, but he wants his family to be relocated and kept safe. He is also willing to testify to everything. Stone offers him life in prison, to which Kim agrees.

Jerome takes the witness stand and confesses to paying Detective Banks and Detective Kim twenty thousand dollars for each murder. He admits to taking a plea deal. He cannot be trusted. Cates confesses to being a drug runner for the Death King's, but has been clean for over a year since his arrest and agreement to be an informant.

The defense attorney accuses Ricky Marscak of the shooting, but now claims responsibility. Detective Kim testifies and the court hears a recording of him and Detective Banks. Kim explains how they took all the cases to prevent others from investigating. The defendant claims that Banks deceived him into committing the crime and that the victims were targeted because they were gang members. The defense lawyer argues that greed cannot justify murder.

At a bar, Stone learns that Banks' lawyer is putting him on the stand the following day and is unsure if society can convict him. On the stand, Banks admits that he went along for the ride as Kim was the lead detective on every case. When Stone asks if this was all for the greater good, Banks agrees that it was his job to do that. He clarifies that the killings had nothing to do with any investigations but that a cop never stops being a cop. Stone then asks if the money was just a tip. Banks believed that Cates deserved to die because he conducted business with a gang member. Stone challenged this belief by questioning Banks about taking money from Jerome. Banks remained silent.

The closing arguments were completed, and the jury found Detective Banks not guilty of all four counts of murder and attempted murder.

Laura chased after Cates, who quickly left the courtroom. Cates shared that if he had gone to jail for the burglary, he would have been released six months ago. Laura promised to protect him, but he did not believe her.

#USA #TV Serie #Crime #Legal #Drama #2017 #One Chicago #Chicago Justice

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thedemoninme141 · 1 year

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Ghosts: Chapter 7: Become

"I always wanted to know what having a family feels like, thank you for making me feel that." . .

The cabin in the lake, her safe place, her and Jade's escape from the world. Tori enters the cabin alone with a duffel bag. It is been 5 months since the incident.

Six men were at the bar with Jade, trying to hit on her. Jade being Jade, taught them a lesson that cost her life, They followed her home, broke into her house, beaten her when she tried to defend herself. And killed her. Only because she insulted them for violating her. Tori closes her eyes.

Jimmy, Ron, Ralegh, Jack, Ethan, and Fred. These 6 boys were arrested, and they were spotted near Jade's neighbourhood. But not a single piece of evidence was discovered against them. There even weren't any fingerprints. But Tori knows, she has looked in her father's files,

There was a hair found there, sandy blonde hair, Ralegh had the same coloured long hair, but DNA tests didn't match. A second person's blood was discovered, but it didn't match any of them either.

Why would they match? The father of Ralegh was a multimillionaire businessman. He bought off enough people to put a stop to the inquiry. making it appear as though she was killed by a thief who broke in. Jade's father was a Major. He tried to do his best to find the killers but even he stopped, Tori tried to talk to him but he ignored her. "These are dangerous people Tori, Don't get involved," He said. "How could he give up? They killed his own daughter, of course, Jade said how distant he was with him but I didn't think he would be that low." Tori thinks. She had stopped talking to her father because he stopped looking into Jade's case.

"I am doing it to keep you safe Tori!" he said. Tori fought but what can she do as a scared alone girl from Hollywood arts?

Tori opens her eyes.

She looks at the wall, 7 men were her target, 7 pictures are pined on the wall.

She draws a cross on Ron's face, marking the victim of her most recent mission. She felt bad for mentally scaring an innocent girl. 5 of them remain. After she killed Jimmy, Ralegh, her third target, fled to Anaheim. They are all terrified because they believe Jimmy was killed by the Ghost. Father's one and only son Ralegh is now constantly surrounded by bodyguards so killing him in broad daylight won't be an option. Although as a daddy's boy, he has a habit of frequently visiting a nightclub once a week.

It's funny how easy it is to get a gun when you have the money.

So she wears Jade's black leathered hooded Jacket, Her black jeans.

And finally her Mask, The mask of Ghost.

"We have a masked vigilante terrorizing the streets. There are CCTV cameras everywhere, yet you haven't found this guy yet?"

The media reporter asked David,

"We are working on this case, possible suspects have been arrested and are now in interrogation."

"There are a lot of people who seem to support this Ghost figure, They think he is doing what you are supposed to do."

"They don't understand the damage he is causing by breaking the laws, surely he saved that girl from being abused but there were other legal ways to save her too. They need to understand that." David answered. .

"I think this Ghost guy is trying to help, He isn't doing anything wrong, he is just protecting the innocents against the hungry wolves of mankind."

Jade says lying next to her girlfriend on the lakeside cabin while holding her hand.

"Yeah, he is doing the right thing but he is doing it in a wrong way, I mean, what stopped him from joining the police force or something,"

"Come on You must be aware, Vega, that the majority of police are the avaricious pawns of the wealthy and powerful. "

"Ouch, my father's a cop too, you know? Good cops exists."

"That's why I said "majority" But considering your daily expenses, he might also be one of those pawns " Jade joked.

"JADE!" Tori hit Jade with her pillow and laughed.

Tori put her head on Jade's chest, Jade's calm heartbeat gave her the greatest sense of tranquility she had ever known.

"I wish we could cuddle like this all the time," Tori whispered.

"Who said we can't?" Jade said playing with Tori's hair.

"Nothing, I just don't know what I would do if I ever lost you."

"I am not going anywhere without you, because I feel just the same about you, Tori."

Tori approached the open casket while holding Jade's favorite scissors. She set them down beneath Jade's cuffed-up hands. . Each person had shown respect. The last one was Tori. To give Tori one last moment of privacy with Jade, they had left the church. Tori was still crying. She wipes off her tears to get one last good look at her Jade. She still looked heavenly beautiful, Tori places one last kiss on Jade's lips.

"I will make them pay Jade, whoever did this to you, they will suffer. And in the end, I will return to you, I promise." Tori wept as she said.

Tori watched as the coffin was lowered. Beck, who wasn't crying, caught her attention. His eyes appeared puffy; he must have cried all night. However, he appears to be feeling guilty. angry? Tori was unable to know.

After the funeral was done. Beck came to Tori.

"Tori.." Beck said calmly,

"Beck," Tori whimpered.

"It's not your fault Tori. It's mine" Beck said.

"How can.." Tori attempted to speak, but Beck cut her off.

"No, you don't get it, I've heard what you said to her before the day she died. Andre told me. You were supposed to always be there for her, you promised me. But you weren't there. You didn't deserve her. It's my fault for leaving her, if I haven't broken up with her I would have been there for her unlike you." Beck said coldly as he turned around."Don't expect any sympathy from me, Tori." He said without looking at her and walked away.

Tori fell to her knees, buried her face in the palm of her hands, and started sobbing. "I am sorry Jade... Baby, I am so sorry, please come back to me. I promise I will take care of you!" She whispered. She didn't feel Trina wrapping her arms around her, guiding her to a bench nearby. She sobbed nonstop for hours, refusing to leave the cemetery or Jade.

Tori looked at the J locket she was wearing, Jade gave it to her on their 6 month anniversary. She looked at Jade's grave and noticed a hooded man near it, looking down. He knelt down, placed a blood rose on it and started walking away. Tori couldn't see his face. She looked at Trina who was busy talking to her mother on her phone.

Tori started following the hooded man. She followed him out of the cemetery to downtown. She had never been to this part of the city before and had heard that it was full of thieves, thugs, and other criminals. But she didn't care; she followed the man into an alley because she had a gut instinct that he knew something. The man stopped walking. She immediately hid behind a dumpster nearby. When she peeked back, the man was gone. She had lost him. She went into the alley further hoping to find him but he was gone, But another man was approaching her. When Tori turned around she saw an old man walking towards her.

As soon as he got close to her he pushed her to the wall.

He positioned a knife close to her neck. "Purse, jewellery. Give me everything!"

Tori didn't know what came on her. Her father taught her how to defend herself when she was a kid. She kneed the thug in the groin area and pushes him off with all of her strength, the man falls to the ground. She looks around to find any weapon, she sees a metal pipe, she picks it up, and starts hitting. She hits again, and again, and again, and again. She didn't stop, she couldn't stop.

All the anger buried inside her, she targeted it at him, It started to rain. That's when she stopped, her vision was blurry, but she could see what she had done, the man's face was unrecognizable, blood all around his head. She started running away, she ran and ran, until she found another alley and hid there. She fell onto her knees. She had committed a murder.

But she wasn't feeling bad, she wasn't feeling guilty, she had just killed a man, but she was feeling okay. No, not okay, she was feeling peace?

She now understands what she needs. She needs justice for Jade.

She looked at the brick wall in front of her, it had graffiti, a graffiti of a skull.

She yelled,

"What kind of hero are you if you don't save the people who need you the most? She believed in you, she thought you were doing the right thing. She thought you were a protector of the innocent, She was wrong. I will BECOME what she needed you to be."

#jori #jade west x tori vega #jade west #tori vega #victorious

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Twisted 17 - Mind Games [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, angst.

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Love demands sacrifices.

Not even once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in handcuffs, in an interrogation room on the wrong side of the table.

You weren’t even at the FBI headquarters though. The police had taken you to the station after the hospital, taking a blood sample and your fingerprints, then they had handcuffed you and left you there with a glass of water.

Of course they suspected you. Of course they thought you had murdered him.

Murder was your father’s legacy, after all.

You traced the handcuffs over your wrists, already feeling the bruises forming there. The shock still hadn’t worn off but you were starting to think it was a good thing. It felt as if you were watching all of this from behind some kind of glass window, perfectly aware of every single emotion but unable to actually feel them.

Spencer had said when you felt threatened, your body produced nervous energy, some sort of a fight or flight reaction but for once you weren’t trying to do any of that.

You just sat there, completely frozen.

“You look calm,” the police officer spoke, making you look up, trying to ignore the faint yelling coming from outside, possibly from the end of the hall.

“I’m sorry?”

“Most people would be traumatized if this happened to them, they’d be crying, shaking…” he motioned at you, “But look at you. Still as a statue. You look pretty calm.”

“Would you rather if I were crying?”

“I’d rather if you were acting like a human being,” he said, “Why are you so calm?”

Why were you so calm?

Because your mother had taught you this much. Showing emotion when you were afraid meant weakness.

“My father was a serial killer,” you stated, looking him dead in the eye, “I’ve had a complicated childhood.”

“Yeah, I’d say…” he leaned in slightly, “You know, I’ve watched that documentary about your father. His interviews too.”

You raised your brows as he sniffled, trying to look like he was nonchalant about this whole situation.

“And I’ve spent sixteen years on this job,” he said, “After a while, you don’t even need anyone to speak for you to know what they’ve done. It’s all in their eyes and little girl,” he clicked his tongue, “There’s nothing behind your eyes but ice and death.”

You couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of people, not even if they tried to kill you. No matter how much they tried to hurt you-

No emotions.

“Impressive,” you managed to say, “Very poetic. Have you ever considered changing your career?”

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“I think you wanted to follow your father’s footsteps,” he said, “I think you killed Anthony, and all those other people. It’s not even your fault, is it? Some people are just born broken.”

That was more than enough to make your eyes snap up to his and you could feel the lump in your throat but you bit your tongue so hard that you swallowed blood, making sure to keep your expression still.

“Nothing to say?”

“You’ve already decided what to think of me,” you said, “And I already told you what happened. What more do you want to hear?”

“Right,” he scoffed, taking a look at the file in front of him, “You went to bed around 12, didn’t wake up whole night, when you woke up you found him like that. Lying in a pool of his own blood, in your kitchen.”

“You don’t look like a whiskey girl.” an unfamiliar voice made you turn your head and you lowered your glass, tilting your head. The guy smiled at you, and stole a look at the whiskey glass you had put on the bar.

“Yeah?” you asked, “What girl am I then? If you’re such an expert?”

He thought for a moment, “Hmm, wine?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“What kind of an occasion does whiskey call for?”

“Apparently an occasion for meeting guys with bad pick-up lines.”

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, I swear I’m normally smoother than this.”

“I would hope so,” you grinned, and offered your hand, “Y/N.”

“Anthony.”

“But you failed to mention the part you texted him to come to your apartment.”

“I didn’t text anyone.”

“We have your phone Y/N.”

“I didn’t text anyone,” you repeated, “Someone must’ve drugged me and taken my phone, the same person who killed him, the same person who obviously broke into my apartment.”

“How convenient.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I always wake up during night,” you said, your voice completely calm and controlled. “Always. I never woke up last night, there has to be a reason for that.”

“If you’ve been drugged, it will come up on the blood tests.”

“Good.”

“While we wait for that,” he said, “Why don’t we go over what you did last night?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said “Went to work. I left work at 7 to go to my sister’s place. I left there around eleven, came home and went to bed.”

“Nothing else happened.”

“Nothing else happened,” you repeated and he sat up straighter.

“Okay. Well just so you know, Dr. Spencer Reid—” he started and your head shot up, your heart slamming against your chest, “He is giving us his professional opinion at the moment, about this case and what might have really happened this morning. Do you have anything you want to change in your story before he’s finished?”

You gawked at him, blinking a couple of times before you turned your head to look at the one-way mirror on the wall.

The BAU was there, behind the mirror.

“….They came back?”

“We’ve sent them the report, yes. They landed an hour ago.”

It was as if somebody was trying to claw your stomach out of your body as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes before you turned to the officer.

“I don’t have anything to change,” you managed to keep your voice stable, “It was a terrible thing, it definitely was but I didn’t do it.”

Someone knocked on the mirror, making you and the officer look that way before he pushed his chair back and left the interrogation room. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on your breathing through the blinding headache but opened your eyes when the door opened again.

Luke.

He offered you a small smile and pulled himself a chair.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, sitting up with your back straight, your hands clasped.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you stole a look at the one-way mirror, “Is he there?”

“Reid?” Luke asked and shook his head, “I had to basically wrestle him out of the hall, he’s…he’s not allowed here. Conflict of interest. He’s giving his statement at the end of the hall as we speak.”

You nodded, digging your fingernails into your palms. “Okay.”

“He also called your sister on our way here. Couldn’t reach her, but left a message. Listen, he can’t request it on your behalf, but you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“I didn’t kill Anthony.”

“I didn’t ask if you killed him, I’m saying you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“Does he think I did it?” you asked and Luke shook his head again.

“No,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter what anyone else believes at this point, Y/N. Ask for a lawyer.”

You kept your back straight, rolling your shoulders. “If Spencer left a message to Mina, she’s coming.”

“Is she a defense lawyer?”

“No but she knows a lot of them.”

He took a deep breath and put the bottle of your pills on the desk, “The officers also found this.”

You tried your hardest to focus, moving your wrists to help with the soreness of the handcuffs. “They’re prescribed.”

“I can see that. The side effects say confusion?”

You arched a brow, “I’m sorry, do I sound confused to you right now?”

“No, you sound way too controlled right now, I may as well have been talking to a robot.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to control the panic bubbling at the pit of your stomach, sending anger through your veins.

“I’m not confused,” you stated, “Besides, I haven’t been taking them lately.”

He threw his head back, pressing his lips together, “God, Y/N, you can’t say that. A psychiatrist prescribed you something and you—“

“They’re just for nightmares, they don’t make you…” you took a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm, “I didn’t kill him. I found him like that. It was terrible, but I didn’t do it.”

Someone opened the door again and Emily Prentiss cleared her throat.

“Luke,” she murmured, “Spencer.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat upon hearing his name but kept completely still as Luke left the room and Emily and JJ walked into the room.

“You’re taking turns now?” you asked and Emily cleared her throat,

“Me and JJ are the only people in our team who haven’t spent as much time with you, so we figured it would be better if we interrogated you.”

“I didn’t do it.”

Emily pulled herself a chair as JJ crossed her arms, standing by the wall.

“Can you walk me through what happened this morning?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said, “With a headache. I knew something was wrong, I felt it. My window was open, the front door was half open and my phone wasn’t where I left it. I stepped outside my room, saw the blood, went to the kitchen and saw—“ you gritted your teeth and clenched your fists, “Saw my ex-boyfriend there. Dead. Lying in a pool of his blood.”

“But you heard nothing.”

“I never sleep for the whole night,” you said slowly, “Check my blood test. Something happened last night.”

“We don’t have your blood test results yet, but there was no sign of any sexual—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” You cut her off, a shiver running down your spine, “That’s not it. Whoever it was, they didn’t touch me, they wanted…”

“What did they want?”

You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. They wanted me to see it I think. My…my father’s crime scenes.”

JJ took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall.

“And you don’t think it’s a little too convenient?”

You pulled your brows together, looking at her and she stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on you.

“Two victims so far,” she said, “The ones that we knew that were in the same place as you, they had some connection to you. That woman who was killed at the charity ball, you didn’t get along when you were kids, you turned her down as a client before she was killed, and now your ex-boyfriend ends up dead, in your apartment because you sent him a—“ she scoffed, “I’m sorry, someone sent him a late night text, inviting him to your apartment.”

“JJ,” Emily started but JJ held up a hand while you tried to wrap your head around it.

She had a point. Two victims so far had some connection to you and that was not a coincidence, it couldn’t have been.

“You think I did it,” you rasped out and she scoffed.

“I think you had something to do with all of this,” she said, “I think you’ve been trying to manipulate Spencer for something. The best case scenario, you were cheating, that’s why Anthony was there and something went bad, the worst case….” She shook her head, “You’re behind every single murder we’ve been looking into, and Spencer was just a tool for you. He’s my best friend, and if I find one single proof that you put him in harm’s way, I swear to God I will destroy you.”

Two people had ended up dead, and that was your fault. The copycat was going after people who had some kind of connection to you, and apparently no one except you and your family was safe.

The idea was way too painful to even exist inside your head, but it was clear as day. JJ was right, you were putting Spencer in harm’s way just by being with him, and if it were him, if you had seen him lying in a pool of his blood, his eyes wide open—

You dug your fingernails into your palms until it hurt before you managed to lift your head, that invisible wall which kept you safe from anyone and everyone who could possibly see anything you felt going up again.

“You…” you trailed off, your throat burning, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked but before you could say anything, someone slammed the door open, making you and the agents turn.

Mina.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she asked no one in particular and stepped aside so that 4 lawyers could walk inside before the police officer rushed to you to remove the handcuffs off your wrists.

“You’re not saying another word,” she snapped her fingers, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“We’re going to need her to sign some papers,” the officer said as Mina grabbed your wrist to pull you out of the room, making you hiss in a breath and she froze, lowering her glances to check your sore wrists for any bruises.

“What did they do to you?”

You shook your head silently, and something in Mina’s gaze shifted. You had seen it only a couple of times, including that time you were getting stitches after some girls in your classroom had ambushed you in the bathroom, and more importantly, you had seen that look on her face when Lily had fever that one time and you all had to rush to the hospital and the doctors said she couldn’t see her.

It was fire, similar to yours, ready to burn everything in its path.

“Don’t say anything to anyone. You two,” she motioned at the two lawyers, “Read whatever she’s supposed to sign.”

The lawyers approached the desk by the door as Mina put her coat over your shoulders, rubbing at your arms as you swayed slightly on your feet, trying to focus.

“We’re leaving, okay sweetheart?”

“Miss—“

“No,” When Mina turned to the police officers and the BAU team, any trace of softness in her voice disappeared, “You don’t talk. If you don’t want to get into even more trouble, you’re going to listen to me right now.”

The officer that had been with you at the interrogation room just blinked a couple of times, obviously taken aback.

“Do you have any idea what you just did to yourself?” she asked, “What you did to this whole precinct? Because allow me to explain, my sister was a victim in this scenario, and you tried to pin this shit on her to make her a scapegoat,” she shook her head, “We will be suing you for defamation of character—“

“Mina, your sister—” JJ started but she snapped her fingers at her.

“I haven’t even started with you yet, wait for your turn.”

“Mina…” you murmured but she didn’t even look like she could hear you,

“Where was I? Defamation of character because press will be all over this, intentional infliction of emotional stress and wrongful arrest and hey, to make things fun we will also be requesting the security footage in the interrogation room and if I see one very small slip of anything that wasn’t supposed to be said and done in that room…” Mina tilted her head, “Well, let’s just say that by the time I’m done with you guys and this whole precinct, the only thing you will be able to afford is going to be a typewriter and a desk.”

One of the lawyers came to tell you the document was alright to sign and as soon as you approached the desk, a door by the hall opened and Spencer stepped out.

It was almost excruciating not to be able to run to him. He looked as shocked as he was and he took a step towards you but JJ stepped in front of him as you grabbed the pen, ignoring the way your name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

“Oh, hi genius.” Mina called out, “Were you getting a glass of water while your team was hounding my sister or something?”

Spencer looked almost confused only for a moment before he turned to look at JJ who deliberately averted her glances from him.

“Mina, this is not necessary,” you croaked out as you signed the papers and she shook her head.

“No, this is very necessary, trust me. You need to show these people what you’re capable of or they will try to fuck you up, case and point.” She turned to Emily, “You’re the one in charge, I suppose?”

“I am.”

“Good. Consider this your warning, because the next time anyone in your team, including the puppy dog eyes over there gets any closer to my sister, we will be getting a restraining order for each and every one of you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, still swaying on your feet and you hugged the coat around you tighter.

Not that you could do anything other than watching this.

“Your sister is an active part of this investigation, your father specifically asked for—“

“My sister is a civilian,” Mina growled, “She has no responsibility for this case, you do. How about you surprise me and do your fucking jobs?”

You took a breath to say it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t their fault but Mina turned to look at you.

“Get in the elevator, we’re leaving.”

You were way too tired to fight her, way too tired to even stand there so you followed the army of lawyers to the elevator, while Mina shot the officers and the BAU members a fake smile.

“Pleasure, let’s never do this again,” she said, and got in the elevator with you, and you tried to keep your expression still, Spencer staring at you until the doors slid close.

“4 lawyers?” you managed to say, “I don’t think even Bundy had four lawyers.”

“Tell that to mom,” she said, “She was on the phone with a congressman the last I checked.”

You couldn’t even smile at that, but Mina let out a breath before pulling you into a bone crushing hug, making the tears rush to your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her.

“Never do that to me again, you hear me?” her voice cracked for the first time and you nodded slowly.

“I won’t,” you said, “I promise.”

***

It was as if someone had pulled all your energy out of your body. You were exhausted, you could barely understand what anyone was saying but you knew there was no way you could sleep anytime soon.

The blood test, as the lawyers had informed you, finally came back and just like you suspected, they had found traces of chloroform in your system. That and your team of lawyers combined were more than enough to get rid of any kind of accusations against you, so at least you had that.

On the other hand, the fear, the guilt, the sadness were still there inside of you, even if you felt way too numb to reach it.

You wondered if Spencer would have a scientific explanation for that.

Your mother had insisted you would never step a foot into your apartment again, she was already looking for a new apartment for you, one with multiple security systems and until that happened she had told you you would be staying at her house.

The damn thing was way too big anyway and you and Mina had grown up there so you figured it would serve as some sort of shelter.

If it even existed for you.

“Here you go sweetheart,” your mother pushed the tea cup towards you, “Drink it, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine.”

Kenzie heaved a sigh, “It’s okay if you’re not,” she said, “No one expects you to, anyone would be traumatized.”

“The real estate agent already sent me three apartments,” your mother said, “Huge windows, you love a bright apartment.”

“Mom,” Mina said silently and she heaved a sigh.

“It could help her distract herself,” her head shot up, “Y/N, you should go on a vacation! Somewhere far away from here.”

“Somewhere peaceful could be nice?” Kenzie added, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You and Mina exchanged glances.

“I heard Fiji is lovely this time of the year,” your mother said and you let out a breath.

“Mom, two people died because of me,” you croaked out, “I’m not going to Fiji for vacation.”

“Honey, you could use some peace,” she held your chin carefully and lifted it so that she could look at you better, “You look so…”

“I look like how I feel,” you said and turned your head when the doorbell rang, making Mina sit up straighter.

“Who’s that?” she asked when the maid walked in.

“Spencer Reid?”

“What?” you and Kenzie asked at the same time, your heartbeat getting faster and Mina jumped on her feet but you stopped her, shaking your head.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, nodding to yourself, “It’s….it’s fine. There’s no point in dragging it out.”

“Dragging what out?” Mina asked you but you walked out of the living room and reached the front door, trying to ignore the warmth filling your system as soon as your eyes caught the sight of him. You stepped out of the house and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his nose into your hair and inhaling deeply as if it helped him calm down while you just stood there, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

You had to do it. No matter how much it hurt you, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

No matter how badly it would rip your heart out.

“You okay?” he asked you, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear, “I tried your apartment but I figured…”

“Yeah, I’m not going back there,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll move out, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” he asked quickly and you closed your eyes for a moment, every cell in your body begging you to change your mind.

You couldn’t though. You’d rather die than see him lying in a pool of his blood, all because of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered and opened your eyes again, “Please don’t say that.”

He looked almost confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy before it dawned on him.

“Is this about the file on me?”

You shook your head and he took a deep breath.

“About today?”

“I didn’t send that message,” you said, “To Anthony, I mean. I wouldn’t…. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that.”

“And I didn’t kill him. I don’t know if you heard, but the blood tests came back positive for—”

“I never doubted that, not even for one second,” he insisted, “With or without blood test.”

“You might be the only one,” you murmured and he paused for a moment.

“What did JJ say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Because we had an argument on the jet on our way back here and whatever she said…”

You shook your head again, trying to smile.

“I get it,” you murmured, “She’s your best friend, she’s protective of you. That’s normal.”

“Yeah but if she thinks that you’re capable of—”

“I want to break up.”

You could swear the words burned your mouth, some invisible hand clutching your heart tighter and tighter as you willed yourself to keep your eyes on the street, because you were sure that every wall you built to keep your emotions under control would crash down the moment you looked at him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that he froze and he blinked a couple of times, as if he was lost.

“What?” he asked silently and you tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“Y/N, wait—no,” he said quickly, breathing hard, “Listen, whatever they said to you today during the interrogation, if that’s what this is about—”

“It has nothing to do with that,” you forced yourself to say, crossing your arms and he took a step closer to you.

“Whatever the problem is,” he rasped out, “We can solve it, okay? Don’t do this.”

That was when it dawned on you.

It wasn’t enough to push him away. You had to make sure to burn that bridge so that neither of you could ever find your way back to each other.

“It’s not one of your cases Spencer, you can’t solve this one,” you muttered and finally turned your head to look up at him, your stomach churning at the sight of betrayal on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“You—it’s—“ you stammered, trying to find the words, “It’s going way too fast, alright? It’s going way too fast and it’s going to fucking crash, and I can’t—“ you cleared your throat when your voice cracked, “I’m not going to crash with this, I can’t.”

Your father had taught you this way too long ago, when you were too young to even question it.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

Stab the prey.

“I mean come on Spencer, we’re not in love or anything,” you shrugged your shoulders, “Should be easy enough.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed, shock written all over his face.

“We’re not in love?” he repeated, “You…you don’t love me?”

Twist the knife.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

His eyes searched your face, as if looking for any kind of clue that could tell him you were lying, or that it was a trick but for once, it was in vain.

You’d had spent years learning how to control your emotions and your expression when it came to heartbreak.

Pull it back.

“It’s not my fault if you’re in love,” you said, each word making you hate yourself more and more, “I can’t be held responsible for that.”

Stabbing yourself would’ve been less painful, you were sure of that but you knew you had to keep going. One last step, one last sentence and you would be done.

Watch them bleed.

“I never told you to love me.”

Then, silence.

You had to give it to him though, it took him faster than it would’ve taken you to pull yourself together if you were the one on the receiving end of this. He blinked back the tears, clenched his jaw and in a second, his gaze turned cold, exactly like yours.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding, “You didn’t.”

But you had forgotten one small detail.

Spencer knew how to withdraw that knife and stab back.

You cleared your throat and turned around to get inside the house but before you could step in, you heard his voice.

“I was wrong.”

You looked over your shoulder, clutching at the straws to keep it together, “I’m sorry?”

“I was wrong,” he stated, his voice was distant and held no trace of its usual warmth, “Before, I mean. In terms of behavior and psychology, you’re exactly your father’s daughter.”

With that, he walked away from the house, and you just stood there for a moment before stepping into the house and closing the door behind you, that comfortable haze of shock slowly withdrawing from your mind like mist. That hand squeezing your heart twisted it in your chest and you tried to breathe, pressing a hand on your chest.

“Sweetheart?” your mother called out as she stepped into the hallway, then slowly approached you, “You okay?”

It was impossible to stop the tears rushing to your eyes now and a gasp escaped from your lips as you shook your head.

“Mom,” you whimpered, “Please, my—my heart hurts...”

She rushed to you and shushed you gently, pulling you into a tight hug and caressing your hair as you slipped to the ground and you buried your face to her shoulder.

Then the sobs came.

Chapter 18

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer imagine #spencer imagines #reid #spencer #reid x you #reid x reader #reid imagine #criminal minds imagines #twisted

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90spumkin · 3 years

Text

A Dash of Truth

Summary: Reader is a witch but doesn’t want everyone to know, especially Spencer.

A/N: This is a fantasy AU which is a new concept for me. I hope you all like it. Thank you @the-queen-of-moons for helping me! Also the amazing graphic is by @spencers-beanbag ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Witch! Reader

Warnings: swearing, details of spell casting, mentions of a case, reader is a little rude at times

Word Count: 1.9K

Paperwork days were most of the time quite except when Derek Morgan had worked for the BAU, there was never a moment of silence. Today however there was a different sound filling the office.

“I swear on everything good and cuddly, if this headache doesn’t go away, I may get one of you badass agents just to shoot me.”

I looked up from my work to make eye contact with my curly haired coworker, Spencer, across our desks. Then a groan brought our attention to the blonde walking towards her ‘bat cave’ holding her head. I looked back towards Spencer who only shrugged and returned to his files. I glanced back towards the way Penelope had gone and hoped she felt better soon.

It wasn’t long till my hopes were crushed. “I swear if I could name this headache, it would be called Luke Alvez.” This exclamation of pain brought out a “Hey!” from Luke himself and giggles from everyone else. Penelope just winced at the loud sounds, finished making her coffee, and made her way back into her office. I contemplated offering her help and sharing my secret before deciding helping a friend was more important.

When I reached the entrance to the dark corner of the building I gave the door a light knock, not wanting to cause Penelope anymore pain. A faint permission to enter was the only sign of life I was given. The room wasn’t filled with the normal luminous light of computer screens. Instead, the human embodiment of sunshine was submerged in darkness.

“Penelope? I brought something that may help?” I kept my voice slightly above a whisper. The poor women turned on her desk lamp and turned to look at me. “Hi buttercup, what do you have for me?” I smiled at her attempt to still be cheery even though she wasn’t feeling quite so cheery herself.

I laid a crystal and a vial on her desk and explained, “This is a clear quartz crystal it helps in healing and pain relief. I also brought you some peppermint oil, apply a small amount to your temples and it should help sooth the headache as well.”

“Oh honey, you are a life saver. I will definitely give this a go! Thank you!” Penelope gave my hand a squeeze and I bent down to give her a gentle hug and a soft kiss to her head. “I hope it helps.”

When I returned to my desk, I found Spencer there leaning against it, waiting for me. I blushed a little when he gave me a smile. I couldn’t help the fact his presence made the butterflies in my stomach erupt.

“Where did you disappear to?” Spencer questioned as I took my seat. I looked towards the way I had just come, “I tried to help Penelope with her headache. I was getting worried.” I looked back at Spencer who was staring at me with a small smile playing on his lips, “Y/n you’re ama- a good friend.” I could feel my blush deepening as I mumbled a “thank you”. With a nod, Spencer returned to his desk.

It wasn’t but a few hours before Penelope was returning the crystal and oil I had given her. She leaned against my desk and asked, “So spill. How’d you know that stuff would work?”” I couldn’t help but to look away from her piercing eyes shyly before replying, “I- I practice modern witchcraft, nothing extreme just charms, crystals, oils, excreta.” I looked back at her before adding, “I don’t really advertise it so please don’t say anything.”

Penelope smiled at me and grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze, “Oh honey, I won’t say a word, but only on one condition.” I gave her a questioning look in which she responded, “You have to teach me your witchy ways.”

Over the course of a few weeks Penelope and I had spent countless hours together after work and between cases. It was mostly nights filled with small castings and gossip. Penelope was a fast learner, so it left plenty of time for the two of us to talk and catch up.

On one particular night we were in the middle of brewing a few healing oils when my phone rung. It was Spencer. Penelope may not be a profiler, but anyone would notice the way my whole body froze up and a smile grew across my face. Penelope giggle and nudged my shoulder reminding me I actually have to answer the phone.

The phone call didn’t last long it was just Spencer letting me know I had left my jacket at my desk and that he put it in his to go bag for safe keeping. Of course, this only excited Penelope and she unleashes a sea of questions: “He totally likes you. Do you like him? Are you going to tell him? You should totally tell him.”

My response to her was simply, “I could never tell him. It would ruin everything.” My best friend gave me a pointed look as she said, “You have to be honest with him, you never know what magic could unfold between the two of you.” I couldn’t help but snort at her choice of words.

The same night as the random phone call from Spencer, there was a Phone call from JJ. We had a case. This case took almost a week to solve, and it was particularly hard. Our prime suspect was good with his words and was constantly trying to lead us in the wrong direction. Lucky for us we have a genius who’s good at solving riddles.

On the way home a thought kept running through my mind: What if I made an oil and cast a truth spell over it. I finally decided I was going to do it and started writing down what I would need: 4 ounces of grape seed or jojoba oil and one ounce of sandalwood oil.

I was missing an ingredient and couldn’t think of what it could be. That’s when someone to my right cleared their throat and said, “One ounce of pure vanilla extract.” When I looked up to see who helped me, I was met with a small smile and a wink from Emily.

As soon as the jet landed, I rushed home only slowing down to tell Spencer goodnight. Luckily, he didn’t ask why I was in a hurry, which I am grateful for.

Once I was home it didn’t take long for me to gather all my ingredients and begin my spell. While swirling the blended oils and extract gently in a clockwise motion I chanted, “Truth be told, no more lies. Now it’s time for honesty. Telling the truth will set you free.” I carefully poured the oil into a bottle, concentrating on not getting any on my skin which would activate it.

The next morning everything seemed fine until I got to work. It wasn’t strange of me to greet my coworkers in the mornings. What was strange was the thing I said after my greetings.

When I walked in I saw Tara first and my greeting to her went something a little like, “Good morning. You look tired.” Tara only laughed and responded with, “Well thanks y/n so do you.”

I was lucky that Tara didn’t take offense, but I didn’t mean to say that. I rushed to Penelope’s office and was blessed to fine Emily there as well. My intensions where to say, “Hi guys. I have a problem.” And then explain but what actually came out was, “Why is it always so fucking dark in here.”

Penelope and Emily both just looked at me and then giggled. Emily however seemed to know why I was saying these out of character things, “Y/n I think you may have gotten some of that truth serum on you.”

My response was, “Well shit.”, while Penelope’s was, “What truth serum? Emily how do you know the witchy ways? Wait you told her and not me?”

I took Penelope’s gasp for breath as a chance to explain what happened. This took a little longer than necessary because every time I would talk about one thing what I really thought would pour out like word vomit. Especially when I started explaining the whole situation with the suspect and why I wanted to do the spell.

When I finally stopped talking the door opened right on cue and Matt stuck his head in to let us know it was five minutes till briefing. He looked a little confused when a panicked looked crossed my face and I said, “Do you not know how to knock.” I instantly apologized and looked to Emily and Penelope for help.

Emily nicely dismissed Matt and turned to me, “We need you on this case since Rossi took personal time. The spell will most likely take 24 hours to run through your system. Until then we’re going to have to come up with a good excuse on why you’re being mean.”

Penelope chuckled when I started to pout, “This isn’t fair. Stupid Rossi, stupid psychopaths.” Emily shook her hand as she led me to what was going to be the longest day of my life.

I had never been more right in my life. The whole time we were on the case every thought that ran through my mind escaped through my lips. I was never one to challenge anything about a profile or standup to local cops who were being pigs. Until now. The team never really got upset just more concerned and any time anyone asked if I was okay my response was always, “No I’m a fucking idiot and can’t do anything right.” And would walk away.

It wasn’t until we had made it back to the BAU that Spencer asked what was going on. “Y/n what has gotten into you? You’ve been acting out of character all day.” It was like Spencer talking to me was all it took for every thought I had about him and my situation to come spilling out.

I told him about the suspect and the spell, I even went into detail about my lessons with Penelope which led to me confessing my feelings because of course I had to say something about that damn phone call. When I realized everything, I had said to him I practically started sprinting away from him, ignoring his calls for to wait.

It wasn’t long after I had gotten home that my phone started to ring. Penelope’s name lit up across the screen and when I answered she instantly began to interrogate me. When I didn’t instantly tell her what happened or what I was thinking, I knew the spell had worn off.

I sighed into the phone the same time there was a knock on the door. I looked through the peep hole and was met with the sight of curly brown hair. All I said to Penelope was “I have to call you back” and hung up while she was still asking questions a mile a minute.

When I opened the door I was greeted with a small smile. Instead of a proper greeting I asked, “Spencer, what are you doing here?” Spencer took a step closer as he said, “I don’t need a truth spell to tell you I love you too, y/n.”

Permanent Taglist: @brooklynxnicole @the-queen-of-moons @imdefinitelyfloating @muffin-cup @theintimatewriter @averyhotchner @spenxerslut @spenciegoob @april-14-blog

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid au #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #criminal minds

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years

Text

SECRET LOVE

Pairing: DBH!Connor X OC!Character

Words: 3.636

Warnings: smut, dominance (nothing too heavy), slightly rough Connor

Summary: Kat is a detective of the DPD and secretly dating one of her colleagues for a few weeks. After a long day, the only thing she is yearning for is a nice evening with her boyfriend to forget about all the idiots in the world. But sometimes ‘nice’ is not the wanted thing.

02. January 2039

05:26:07 PM

… and the only thing Kat wanted was a coffee, a hot shower, pizza and maybe watching a movie… But instead she pushed a junky around she had arrested thirty minutes ago as he was dealing nearby an elementary school.

The junky grunted as he stumbled forward, a bit clumsy on his feet, “Come on, sweetheart, be a bit more cautious with me. There is still a chance for the two of us to work out. I mean after everything we went through so far.”

“I don’t think so, asshole.”, Kat muttered and pushed the guy further through the department to put him finally into one of the detention cells. It was a pity that the cells had electrical doors nowadays, otherwise, she just could throw the key away.

“But darling-”

“Shut the fuck up and move.”, Kat spitted and pushed him around once again.

“You need help there, hon?”, Gavin asked with a lopsided smirk while he leant casually against his desk with crossed arms and legs.

Kat rolled with her eyes. That was another asshole she didn’t need right now. Not after such a long day. “No, thanks, I’m fine. There’s no need for you to get your hands dirty.”, Kat fired back.

“Oh, but Kat, I would love to get my hands dirty...with you. If you just could read my mind right now-”

“Then, I’m sure, I would puke straight into your ugly face.”, Kat hissed and was happy to reach the detention cell and to leave Gavin, the biggest asshole of the DPD, behind. Kat pushed the junky into the cell and closed the door with the scan of the palm of her hand.

“But, baby. You can’t leave me alone here. I’m afraid of the dark.”, the junky said with a disgusting smirk.

Kat closed her eyes, breathed in and counted to five to calm herself. She really needed the end of the work day or … her boyfriend.

“Hey, Chris! Where's Hank?”, Kat asked as she stopped by the abandoned desks of Hank and Connor. Neither the Lieutenant nor the android were around.

“They brought a suspect in ten minutes ago. I guess they’re still in the interrogation room.”, Chris answered and turned back to his own work. Kat considered if she should just wait til they were done or if she should visit them. She looked quickly around, her eyes fell on Gavin who spoke to a colleague. If he would see her sitting around alone, he would come over to her - the last thing she wanted.

So, Kat decided to sneak into the interrogation room. An officer sat at the desk and controlled the camera and the microphone. Hank sat next to him and observed the interrogation room through the one-way mirror. Kat closed the door softly but Hank noticed her nevertheless. He greeted her with a quick nod before he looked back ahead to his partner.

Kat knew about their latest case. An android had killed its owner and they had searched for it for a while. Since the successful revolution, these kinds of attacks were rare but they happened from time to time. Hank and Connor were still assigned to these cases and now, as they had found the suspect, it was Connor’s turn to question the android.

Connor wore still his grey jacket and his typical white suit shirt underneath but the android markings were gone. The blue band around his arm and the android label on his back were both removed. He was no longer property of CyberLife but he got used to the style of clothes, so he had decided to keep them. Even the black tie was still around his neck. Kat liked to watch the android no matter what he did.

That was one of the reasons why she had said yes as Connor had asked her out several weeks ago. He had been nervous as hell, Kat had seen it in his eyes and his insecure expression but she had said yes and till now, it was the best decision she had ever made when it came to men. To date an android was interesting and new. She had expected it to be more awkward but there was nothing that felt uncomfortable with him.

Connor was extremely nice, the complete difference to all her ex-boyfriends before. He acted as a real gentleman and treated her right. Always. Til this day, Kat didn’t regret getting into a relationship with Connor. But they kept it secretly to avoid any unwanted attention - mostly of Gavin who already had made it to his personal mission to torture Connor whenever he could. It is not for nothing that Kat always called him Detective 'douchebag' Reed.

Kat enjoyed watching Connor interview a suspect. She had seen it several times before but each time, she was amazed by his skill to get a confession. Sure, his analyzing program was helpful to find clues before the suspect even spoke a word but it was for his special ability to piece these information together in no time that made the difference.

"Is this the android who killed its owner? Have you found it finally?", Kat asked curiously. Hank nodded.

"At least, that's what the eye witnesses said. They saw it running away but it came back one night. Maybe Connor will get something out of it.", Hank explained and Kat was sure the android would be successful. She was glad that she came to the right moment.

Connor sat across the suspect, an MC500 model. An android for paramedic purposes. The victim had been a dealer, maybe there was a connection. But this one android was rigged up with dirty skin and clothes which were damaged. This model reminded Kat always of a Ken-like guy but this one seemed to be living on the street or it had experienced some bad times.

Connor considered the best approach. He considered a friendly way to gain his trust but the android in front of him seemed to have experienced a few rough things so, maybe, it wouldn't be impressed by kindness and wouldn't fall for it. The android's right arm was covered with deep scars which were glowing blue and even its chest seemed to be damaged, visible through the shrewd fabric. The best way would be a more aggressive one. Maybe if he would scare it, it would talk more easily.

Kat watched how Connor skimmed through the case file and the pictures with his long, slender fingers. She saw him stopping at some pictures, probably searching for the right way to start.

Several minutes passed before Connor looked at the handcuffed android. "What's your name?", Connor asked directly to start the interview slowly. His smooth voice sounded like honey and Kat was looking forward to seeing her boyfriend doing his job. After this rough day of chasing a junky through half of Detroit’s city, she needed some eye candy.

"So, you want to stay silent, huh?", Connor said and stood up more aggressively than necessary. With crossed arms, he walked around the table and towered above the other android. He looked down at it with a stern expression. His brows were drawn together and his brown eyes were gleaming darkly. Suddenly, Connor freed his hands and slammed them violently on the metal surface of the table. The booming sound echoed through the interrogation room and Kat jumped a little. Surprised, she watched how Connor lowered towards the android to be on the same level while he was still towering him.

"Just because androids aren't slaves anymore doesn't mean that you can run around and kill humans.", Connor grunted deeply. "You're accused of murder,", he said low but threatening, "Crimes like this will be punished. You hear me?", Connor asked, still very threatening.

With huge eyes, Kat watched how Connor grabbed the android by its collar to pull it up to his eye level.

"Do you hear me? I swear you will be sent back to CyberLife." he threatened. "They will switch you off and tear you apart piece by piece!", he screamed into the android's face. The android winced and shuddered. But Connor just tightened his grip on the fabric. "You're just a fucking murderer! A cold blooded piece of shit who killed an innocent human!", Connor spat poisonously and let the android drop back on its chair.

With an open mouth, Kat looked shocked at Connor who had cursed in front of her for the first time. He acted aggressive. He screamed. He became physical. She had never seen him like this before. Her mind was racing to process what she had seen and heard. His voice was dark, deep and demanding. He was dominant and the boss in this room who showed off his power. Kat was speechless and became… turned on.

"I… I don't want to be destroyed…", the android whispered weakly.

But Connor didn't seem to be impressed. Instead, he waited and stared down at the android unemotional. He waited a few more moments before he slammed his hands on the surface again. "I don't care what you want! The victim also didn't have a chance to decide if he wanted to die or not. You took that chance from him!", Connor said low but powerful.

This low voice shot goosebumps down Kat's spine.

"But just because he attacked me first!", the android screamed back desperately to explain himself and that was the breaking point. Connor sat back on his place across the android and listened to the confession. Hank was also listening but Kat had difficulties to follow the interrogation. Several times, she tried to concentrate but her mind was always drifting back to the demanding voice and rough behavior of Connor.

Kat felt that something rose inside her. She knew the hot feeling that rose deep in her core all too well. And she knew the reason behind that feeling: Connor. Connor had turned her on so much with his aggressive way that she wasn't able to concentrate anymore.

Kat sneaked out of the room. Neither Hank nor the officer had noticed her disappearance. In the hallway, she leant against the wall next to the door and stemmed her hands into her sides. She tried to calm her thoughts but intense pictures were running in front of her eyes and fueled her lust even more. Her mind was running wild.

Several minutes later, the door opened and awoke Kat from her trance. The officer left the room with the android and Hank by its side. Connor followed them. Kat grabbed Connor by his arm to pull him towards her.

"Oh, hey, Kat- what's wrong?", Connor asked, concerned as he saw Kat's dark eyes.

But she just dragged the puzzled Connor after her, down the hallway and slipped into the next available room.

"That's the male bathroom, Kat.", Connor explained softly but she pressed her hand over his mouth.

"I don't care.", Kat said low. She saw the confusion in Connor's eyes. "I saw you. During the interrogation. What was that?"

"What do you mean?", Connor asked with a raised brow.

"You were cursing! You were aggressive and dominant. I had no idea you could be like this!"

"It was a tactic to approach the suspe-", Connor explained matter of factly.

Kat stopped him from speaking once again. "I don't care, Connor. You turned me extremely on with this behavior and for ten minutes, I can't think of anything else than how you acted in this room.", Kat whispered low but heavy. Connor noticed her aroused manner. Slowly, Kat removed her hand from his mouth.

"So, you liked that, huh?", Connor asked low and straightened himself to his full height.

Kat nodded slowly with a lopsided smirk. She moved her hands up and down his chest but Connor reacted quickly.

He grabbed her wrists and pressed her against the door with his lower body while he shoved her hands above her head. "You like it rough, baby girl?", he asked with a deep voice and dark eyes. Connor watched how she gnawed on her lower lip while she was nodding. Connor lowered his head but stopped inches from her lips to tease her. Kat tried to escape his hands but he just tightened the grip. Only then, he crashed his lips on hers for a hungry kiss.

Kat moaned and arched her back to greet his chest with her breasts. Connor understood the hint and changed his grip around her hands. With one hand, he held both of her wrists while he stroked along her side with his right hand. Teasingly and very slowly, he slid his fingers down her ribcage to her hip. Then, he slipped underneath her shirt and stroked up to her chest. Kat's breath quickened as Connor reached her breast to squeeze it softly. Kat enjoyed it and let her head fall back against the door.

Connor took the chance and bit into her neck with the right amount of pressure to make her moan again.

"Connor…", she whispered raspy with closed eyes.

"Yes? What can I do for you?", he asked but his voice was filled with dominance.

"I- I need you…", she breathed low and Connor released her hands. Kat took the opportunity and dug her fingers into his soft hair. She looked into his eyes. A cheeky smirk played on his lips. Before Kat could say anything, Connor grabbed her ass, raised her up and brought her over to the sink to place her there on top. Kat snaked her legs around his waist, grabbed his tie and pulled him down to kiss him passionately. Both his hands worked his way up and down her body while Kat rolled her hips against him to increase the friction.

Connor dug his fingers into Kat's long, braided hair and pulled her head back to get a good spot on her neck. He kneaded her breast and played with her hardened nipple through the fabric which caused her to moan his name once again. He kissed up and down her neck before he bit down.

"Uh… not that strong…", Kat cried out but her voice was filled with pure lust.

"I just want to make sure that you know that you're mine. And only mine.", Connor whispered husky against her skin.

"I.. I'm just yours, Connor.", Kat admitted raspy.

"Well, that didn't sound very convincing.", Connor said and stepped back from Kat who was already a mess. Her hair was tousled, her lips were swollen and her clothes askew.

As she saw Connor stepping away from her, she was shocked. Kat jumped from the sink and stepped forward to reach him but Connor stepped back until she stopped.

"Turn around.", Connor commanded low. His eyes held an arrogant expression.

"W-what?", Kat asked, confused. She was overwhelmed by the situation. By his dominant way and his strong voice.

"I said, turn around!", he said, more demanding than before.

Kat followed his instructions. She turned around and stood in front of the mirror. She looked at herself and untied her hair because the braided tail was already disheveled. Connor closed up to her from behind. And Kat watched him through the mirror coming closer.

"Look at me!", Connor said deeply into Kat's left ear. Just his voice shot goosebumps down her spine and she shuddered, already filled with lust. Connor towered behind her and stroked over her hips to the button of her jeans to open it. He opened the zipper slowly to slip his right hand inside.

Kat's knees started to wobble as she felt Connor's hand slowly moving forward down her slip. As he touched it, Kat felt how soaked the fabric already was.

"Oh, you're really in this mood, aren't you, baby girl?", Connor whispered.

Kat nodded while she bit down on her lower lip. She squirmed against his chest the longer he teased her over the fabric. As Kat started to roll with her hips to grind her ass against him, Connor moved his hand underneath the fabric of the soaked slip. Kat cried out with relish as she felt Connor's fingers sliding between her folds. He stopped his moves and placed his other hand over her mouth.

"You have to be more quiet or someone will hear us. If you're too loud I fear I have to stop. Got it?", Connor asked and removed his hand slowly to move it down to her neck. His long fingers were laying softly around her throat. "Say it!", he demanded with his lips sliding on the outer rim of Kat's ear.

"I have to be more quiet. Please, continue…", Kat begged desperately what caused Connor to grin.

He waited a few more seconds and concentrated on Kat's rapid heartbeat and her erratic pulse caused by him. Her chest was moving uneven and she was shuddering against him. Very slowly, Connor slipped two of his fingers back into her. Kat's hot core was dripping wet and his fingers were covered in seconds. "You feel that?", Connor whispered as he pushed his fingers a bit deeper inside her.

"Y-yes…", Kat nodded and whimpered low to stay quiet.

Connor looked Kat in the eyes through the mirror. "That's me inside of you, Kat.", he said smirking and pushed deeper. "I know how much you love my hands on your body.", he said low and moved his left hand to her breast to knead it slowly. "And my fingers inside of you like this.", he continued and pumped into her again.

Each time he did that, Kat shuddered more and more. She felt her core tightening.

Connor noticed that she was close, so he removed his hand a bit to extend the moment. "Kat", Connor said to get her attention, "Tell me you're mine.", he demanded, breathing against her ear. She looked him straight in the brown eyes which were sparkling darkly.

"I-I'm yours…", Kat whispered low between two heavy breaths.

"I can't hear you. What did you say, baby girl?", Connor asked innocently. But his dark voice compared with the nickname gave her goosebumps again.

"I'm just yours, Connor.", Kat said more clearly.

"Exactly, you are just mine! No one else is allowed to touch you! Got it?", Connor said as a statement and Kat had to obey.

"I said: got it?", Connor asked again, smirking and slipped his hand back down her slip.

"Yes…", Kat breathed husky as she felt Connor's long, slender fingers deep inside of her.

"Repeat it! I want to hear it from your sweet lips.", Connor commanded and pumped rhythmically into her in the way Kat liked the most.

"I-I'm just yours. No one else is allowed to touch me…", Kat repeated breathless.

"Good, baby girl. Now, would you like me to finish you?", he whispered raspy into her ear. He looked Kat straight into her lust filled eyes with a devilish smirk.

"Yes, please. I- I can't take it anymore.", she begged and watched the lopsided smirk growing bigger on his lips.

Connor adjusted the position of his hand and rubbed along her clit while his fingers were pumping steadily into her.

Kat's breath fastened, she closed her eyes while she leant her head back against his chest.

"Fuck damnit, Connor...", Kat moaned raspy as he pumped to her climax.

"Kiss me!", Connor demanded.

Kat's mind was spinning but she managed to turn her head to the right.

Connor crashed his lips on hers in the same moment Kat cried out because of the orgasm washing over her. He continued his moves to intensify the feeling for her even more.

As she stopped being too loud, he left her lips and watched her amazed how she enjoyed her satisfaction with closed eyes.

Kat was still jerking as he removed his hand from her slowly. She leant against the sink to catch her breath. As she was slowly recovering, her heartbeat slowed down and she straightened herself to smooth her clothes.

"Was it good?", Connor asked and smirked as he watched Kat coming clear.

"You have outdone yourself, babe.", Kat said smiling but still a bit breathless. She walked over to her boyfriend and kissed him lovely while she flung her arms around his neck.

"I had no idea you could be like that."

"Yeah...but if I shall be honest, I would like to keep that in the interrogation room.", Connor admitted.

"Well...but from time to time…", Kat said with a wink and let the sentence unspoken.

Connor chuckled, cupped her chin to raise it so he could meet her lips for another sweet and caring kiss.

"I will see you at home?", Connor asked low. Kat looked into his soft brown eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm already looking forward to it.", Kat answered and checked her appearance in the mirror. She smoothed her hair one last time before she went to the door to step out. "Watch it, dipshit!", Kat snapped as she left the bathroom. She pushed Gavin aside who looked confused at her as he was about to enter the restroom.

"Wrong restroom, you idiot!", Gavin called out and shook his head. Kat's only response to him was showing her middle finger while she went into the kitchen for a coffee. Gavin was about to open the door to the restroom once again as the next person stepped out and almost crashed into him.

"Watch i-", Gavin started but stopped as he noticed Connor in front of him who fixed the knot of his tie while he walked through the door.

"Detective Reed.", Connor said politely with a nod and passed a speechless looking Gavin to go back to his desk.

"But- what the hell.", he muttered, confused before he entered the restroom finally.

#dbh connor #dbh #connor #detroit connor #connor dbh #detroid become human #detroit become human connor #detroit become human #dbh connor x reader #smut #smutday #rough #rk800connor #detroit become human rk800 #rk800 #connor rk800

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rafivadafreddy · 3 years

Text

Kissing Secrets

A fivr part story about our favorite ADA Rafael Barba and his FBI gf.

Summary: What happens when the SVU squad meets Rafaels’ girlfriend, but under not so great circumstances?

Word Count: 2,373 Warnings: Cursing, angry couple, Spanish, angst, talk of rape and drug case.

Dating never came easy to Rafael Barba. But when he found someone with a job as hectic as him. It was perfect. Neither expected much from the other, when one had to cancel the other would understand.

Of course, Y/N would be more than understanding. She had two bachelor degrees under her belt and after long days and nights with the 20 weeks of New Agent Training with the FBI at Quantico. She, just like Rafael, worked hard to get where she was. Trying to make a name for herself. Starting at twenty-five and becoming a special agent before her twentieth eight birthday, Y/N knew she would make it.

Y/N and Rafael met when she was looking for a job, needing to complete two years of work experience to become a special agent. Working as a rookie cop in a district in Brooklyn. Well, one night an angry cuban man walks into the precinct. His fancy three piece suit was a mess and he claims he was assaulted. Knife wound to his arm, Y/N was the cop to take care of him.

One thing led to another, Rafael left the precinct with a smile. Having left his number behind for the cop. To ‘call’ if she had any questions about his assault. Of course, Y/N was able to find the guy who assaulted the ADA and was able to get his phone back from the man.

Almost three years passed and they were still happy with the other. Dinners, nights in and a couple who were in love with the other. Y/N met his mother and his abuelita, things were perfect. So, when Y/N graduated, celebrating the fact that she made it through the FBI academy. Thankfully, Y/N was able to stay at the federal bureau of investigation in New York City.

»---------------------►

A few months into her new job, Y/N felt as if she was on a high. It was her biggest case yet and it was hers… well, her’s along with her partner, Agent Shawn Carter. Having been staying overtime the past month, getting together evidence and witnesses to take down an organized sex trafficing crime involving a drug lord that’s on their most wanted list, Y/N wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her bringing every last one of them down. Especially when the last victim she was notified of was a thirteen year old.

“Hola mi amor…” Y/N smiled at the call of her boyfriend. Rafael had been her rock the past few years as Y/N worked on getting into the FBI.

“Hola mi corazón…” she heard him chuckle into the phone. “Dinner tonight? Think you can make it?”

Glancing at her watch, Y/N thought about it. “I think so yeah. We’re going to pick up a perp right now and if it all works out. I’ll be able to spend all night with you.” She told him and sighed. “I’m sorry for being super busy lately.”

“Hey, none of that. I understand. It 's your job. My girlfriend, the badass FBI agent.” the two laughed and Y/N smiled.

“My boyfriend, the hot shot ADA. I’ll get out early to have dinner with you. No matter what, you’ll come first tonight.” She told him, noticing they were nearing Manhattan.

“Now, now… You know you always come first when we’re together.” Y/N could hear the smirk as he spoke and she just laughed.

Saying goodbye with many ‘i love you’s’ Y/N put her phone away and sighed, the smile feeling permanent on her lips.

Ten minutes later, the black car pulled up outside the Special Victims Unit of the 16th precinct. Both Y/N and Shawn looked at one another before nodding. It wasn’t going to be fair and it wasn’t like they knew. But the SVU team had picked up a perp they had been watching and started an investigation on him. Something Y/N couldn’t let happen. No this was her case.

Walking into the building and getting directions to the SVU floor, Y/N walked with her head held high. The skinny jeans she wore, along with the blue button down shirt. She made sure to have her badge clipped to her pants. Gun in its holder and ID already out in her hand.

“Can I help you, agent?” a woman asked, making Y/N turn to look at a blonde who walked over. That caught the other detectives attention.

They were already wondering why the FBI was there.

“As a matter of fact you can. I’m special agent Y/N L/N and this is my partner, Agent Shawn Carter. I’m afraid I’m here to collect the perp you have in custody along with everything you have against him.” she told the women, except her eyes were on a brunette woman. Whom Y/N knew was in charge. She did her research before storming into the precinct this way.

“Why should we do that? This is our case, don’t see why the Feds want a low life like him.” another detective spoke up and Y/N looked over at him. From his voice and stance, it was obvious he was angry.

“Calm down, Amaro.” the brunette finally spoke up. “Olivia Benson.” she introduced herself and Y/N shook her hand. “Now, you say you need this guy. Why? From what we’ve gathered, he’s just a scum who likes underage girls.”

With a sigh, Y/N nodded. But she didn’t say anything when a familiar voice spoke up. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah! Barba, you’re going to love this.” The Amaro fellow looked amused. “The FBI is here to take our case.”

“Oh yeah? On what grounds?” Barba asked.

“On the grounds that he’s a suspect in an ongoing Federal case.” Y/N said, turning to look at the man she just told she loved, not even half an hour ago. “Miguel Hernández raped and murdered a thirteen year old girl three days ago. And I know you guys picked him up cause he was caught in the act of raping another victim. Now imagine my surprise when I found out that SVU caught him. Even though notice went out to contact the FBI if Mr. Hernández is picked up by officers or detectives of New York.” she spoke, informing all of them, even though her eyes stayed on Rafael.

“He also has information about Lorenzo Torsney.” Shawn spoke up for the first time.

“Wait, Torsney, the guy linked to the sex trafficking ring with the underage girls? The same Lorenzo who’s rumored to be the new Drug lord of New York?” some guy spoke up, his thick accent catching Y/Ns attention.

“That’s the one.” Both agents spoke at the same time. “So, Lieutenant. The case files and Miguel if you please.” Shawn said and followed Bensen into her office to grab the paperwork to make the transfer.

Y/N on the other hand went to look at the window that showed into the interrogation room. Hearing footsteps, Y/N smiled at the male and nodded to the detective seeing the coffee he got her. “Thanks…”

“Ah, Dominick Carisi, Jr. but everyone calls me Sonny.” the thick accent said and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“I get the feeling, no one calls you, Sonny… Sonny.” she smirked and looked at Miguel again.

Thankfully he got quiet after that. Though what Y/N failed to notice was Rafael standing in the doorway. “Excuse us, Carisi.” he said, in his ‘this is my mad, but trying to stay professional” voice.

Sonny couldn't get out of the room faster, not that Y/N blamed him. She would have ran as well.

"You couldn't have told me on the phone that you were coming to pick up the guy from my case?" Rafael whispered, looking real mad.

Yet, Y/N just rolled her eyes. "Tu caso? Last I heard, you were still working in fucking Brooklyn! Que diablos, Rafael!" She hissed at her boyfriend. "You changed fucking districts and never told me?"

"Oh, that's rich. Coming from the one always canceling our dates!"

"¡Vete a la mierda!" Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Who canceled the last THREE dinners? Wasn't me, that's for fucking sure." She scoffed and pushed past him.

"Real professional Detectives.." Y/N rolled her eyes at the SVU team all scrambling back to their desks. Pretending like they wern’t eavesdropping on Y/N and Rafael.

"Y/N, vuelve aquí, ahora."

Only, Y/N ignored him. Pulling out her phone, she had to put in a call for another agent to come out to the district and collect Miguel. All while ignoring Rafael. Who was trying to glare her into submission.

'Good luck, papi. Not gonna work now.' Y/N thought and looked away from the detectives. Answering emails and texts on her phone. Already getting a location of where Shawn and her needed to go after leaving SVU.

»»---------------------►

As Miguel was getting put into cuffs, both around his wrists and ankles. Y/N watched, making sure nothing would go wrong. Turning to the detectives, she gave them a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you guys have this case.” she told them, sounding sincere. “If he wasn’t important to catching Torsney, I would have let you keep the case.” she added, thanking Shawn as he handed Y/N her FBI jacket.

Hearing two different scoffs, but from two cuben men. Y/N rolled her eyes and shook Olivia’s hand. “It’s fine, at least you’re getting him off the streets… and something tells me, you interrogating him will make what we did look like preschoolers.” she smirked and Y/N shrugged.

“Let’s just say, the cameras are not on all the time.” Shawn spoke up and Y/N shook her head.

“Yes they are, thank you for giving me a heads up to watch all the interrogations you do from now on.” she narrowed her eyes and told him to go wait in the car. Saying goodbye, Y/N turned and made her way out.

Getting into the car, Y/N rubbed a hand over her face and told Shawn they were needed over in the Bronx.

“So… that was your boyfriend. Huh?” the male next to her spoke up after a few minutes of silence in the car.

Of course, with her telling him to shut up the car ride continued on quietly.

Hearing her phone let out a ping Y/N grabbed it and read the text from Rafael.

Papi: So, I guess we need to talk later.

Y/N: Yeah, I’ll tell you when I get off. Don’t know when that’ll be. There was a bomb over in the South Bronx. Was put on the case to deal with it.

Keeping the reply simple. Wanting Rafael to know she was mad at him. Not even replying to his ‘stay safe’ and not cause she didn’t want to. But because they had arrived and the scene they saw. It was a complete mess.

News crews were filming everything happening, people being put into ambulances and being taken care of.

“OK! What do we know?” Y/N asked, tying her H/C hair up into a ponytail.

As they were getting information, Y/N looked around. Not knowing cameras were pointed towards both her and her partner.

Turning to the officer telling them what had happened, Y/N frowned. “What time was the explosion? Exactly.” she asked and Y/N felt like she paled when being told it had been Nine minutes.

“We need every emergency vehicle headed here stopped outside the perimeter, and evacuate the building.” she commanded and stopped when the Battalion Chief spoke up.

“I got half a dozen guys inside checking structural damage, twice that many going door-to-door --”

Y/N just cut him off. “Have them grab anyone they see, and get out. Now.” her confidence leaves no doubt and the man nods. Talking to everyone he can and getting as many people out as possible.

With Shawn helping out on the other side, also helping people move away from the building the explosion went off in. It left Y/N to run after a woman who was running towards the apartment building. Crying about how she wanted her son's body

Y/N was able to get her away, but when the second explosion hit, both her and the woman were flown forward. Y/N being knocked out.

Rafaels’ POV:

He was getting shit for not saying anything to the team about his FBI girlfriend. Not like he knew if they were even going to be that later on when they talk. But still, he sat there and let them poke and joke around. The team had gotten takeout and were relaxing since there were no other cases. Rafael deciding to join them (not like they gave him much of a choice in the matter)

“Hey, Barba… didn’t you say Y/N was out in the South Bronx?” Rollins asked, causing Rafael to turn away from Liv and look at the blonde detective.

Moving his head to see what she was looking at, Rafael felt a chill in his stomach as he watched the News on the TV. They were covering the story of what was happening.

The team were all quiet listening to the man speak, the camera moving to where Y/N stood with her partner. Rafael watched as she took charge of the situation, he felt proud of her. But he had a nagging feeling, seeing everyone move quickly at whatever command she gave.

“By the looks, Agent Y/N L/N of the FBI gave orders to evacuate the building. Will there be another explosion, how does she know to get everyone out of the building? Whatever it is, everyone seems to be listening….” but Rafael turned the man's voice out.

In the background he could see Y/N running towards the woman and he shot up out of his seat when the second explosion happened. Cutting short the camera. No one was moving or saying anything as they just watched Rafael, who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart

#rafael barba #Raul Esparza #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x female reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x oc #rafael barba x fbi reader #law and order svu #svu

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 25/2021) - Detective Jack

Continuing with his plot to become a prison guard, Jack goes to speak with Sam and offer him his services as a detective. The case to solve? Sam’s missing cameras.

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Jack

Ranboo

Hannah

---

- Jack plans to speak with Awesam about becoming a prison guard. He makes his way from Snowchester to Pandora’s Vault.

- He makes it to the prison entrance and calls for Sam. Sam gives him a fright by appearing suddenly and immediately goes to start quickly tearing down the torture chamber.

- He speaks with Sam and asks what he’s doing. Sam asks if Jack heard what happened with Ponk and tells Jack about Ponk stealing the keycards, spawn-trapping him and killing him repeatedly there. Jack (muted, talking to chat) is relieved that he didn’t get involved in that scheme when Ponk asked.

- Jack tells Sam he has news to tell. The security system in Sam’s house has been removed.

- Sam asks why Jack was at his house. Jack tells him he was “researching.” Sam is suspicious.

- Jack mentions Antfrost was there and tries to say he was just hoeing land. Antfrost is big on agriculture.

- Sam offers to go over to the base with Jack and check, but he’s extremely busy. They start going there.

- On the way, Jack asks about the guards, and if they could use help.

- Sam explains that they get notified if things happen in the prison, and they don’t need another person in a different timezone because Bad already has a reverse schedule.

- Jack tells Sam he should consider getting another guard. Sam says there’s not anyone he think would make a good one.

- They reach Sam’s base. Sam says he needs to check something. They go down to the basement. He checks the obsidian cage but it’s empty — Fran’s not there.

- They go back up and Sam checks the concrete box. Everything’s fine.

- Jack reveals his detective outfit to Sam and says he could help Sam find out who was tampering. Sam is onboard with the idea.

- Sam tells Jack he needs to dismantle his “torturing chamber,” and that if Jack messes with a certain room he will murder him. Jack says he’ll have a favor to call in afterwards. Sam says he’s willing to do a favor and leaves.

- Jack starts checking around for evidence. In one of the chests he finds a Manberg war shield.

- In another chest marked “friendship owo” he finds a Friendship Flower, an allium. Who likes alliums, he says? Ranboo. He notes it and moves on.

- He tries to figure out who’s the most suspicious. He looks at the prank wars sign left by Puffy.

- Jack makes his way back to the mainland, planning to speak with Puffy. He wonders if he needs a warrant.

- Puffy tells Jack her McPuffy’s serves a side of cameras. It’s a cultural difference.

- Jack notices the definitely not blood on the ground. Puffy informs him that it’s definitely not blood.

- Puffy tells Jack he’s acting suspicious and that she has a warrant to search him. She wrote it down on a napkin and her mom said it looks good.

- Puffy starts questioning Jack. Jack asks about the prank war.

- Puffy asks why Sam even had cameras.

- They go down into the Temple of Hype to search around. He finds the FlockFam allium in a chest and Puffy explains that she gives them to all her friends.

- Puffy says she thought Jack had no house and Jack talks about the hotel. They start bickering over it, but Jack tells her that Tommy said it could be his, she can watch the VOD.

- They check Bubbles. Puffy says she wants to check the hotel and they go over there.

- They basically interrogate each other.

- Jack leaves and returns to Snowchester. He visits Michael, then writes down evidence.

- He goes to investigate Eret’s castle and notes that there also seem to be quite a few “Ranboo blocks” around. He finds another friendship flower and a book.

- Jack recalls that Tommy went to Sam’s base, and bearing in mind his ultimate goal, it wouldn’t be bad if it turned out to be Tommy.

- Jack recalls what happened his first day on the Dream SMP: Dream sending him secret messages hidden through books. He looks at the book left for Eret in the chest. He tries reading the capitals but nothing comes up.

- He now has new evidence and a list of suspects in his book:

EVIDENCE:

1. PUFFY WAS IN PRANK WAR WITH SAM

2. TOMMY WAS AT HIS BASE AT SOME POINT

3. HANNAH WAS AT HIS BASE AT SOME POINT

4. ERET IS PUFFY’S FRIEND MAY KNOW STUFF

PUFFY:

1. WAS 100% IN A PRANK WAR

2. WROTE HER NAME DOWN “PROOVING” IT WASN’T HER (DOUBLE BLUFF?)

3. HAS A BASE BIG ENOUGH TO STORE CAMERAS

4. SELLS CAMERAS AT MCPUFFY’S (MAYBE NOT THE CAMERAS WE’RE LOOKING FOR THOUGH)

5. GETS CAMERAS FROM GUY WHO KNOWS A GUY WHO KNOWS A GUY WHO KNOWS A GUY WHO’S COUSIN KNOWS A GUY WHO GET’S CAMERAS

6. TRIED DISTRACTING WITH HER OWN DETECTIVE WORK - SUS?

VERDICT - HIGHLY SUS

HOWEVER: NO CAMERAS FOUND AT ANY PUFFY PROPERTY

FRIENDS WITH ERET

ANYONE WITH ALLIUM IS A FRIEND

CHAT SUGGESTIONS:

1. PONK IS SUS EGG AND NO LIKEY THE SAM

2. TOMMY HAS REASON COS DEAD INNIT

3. RANBOO COS LEAVES BLOCK EVERYWHERE AND ALSO MAD AT THE SAMUEL

4. GHOSTBUR - CAN WALK THROUGH WALLS AND SHIT, PROBABLY A GOOD THIEF

- Next time, he’ll speak with more people.

- Ranboo upgrades the Vault by creating a special shrine of riches for the Prime Bell, including with a spawner block containing a spinning pig named Nicholas.

- The spawner spawns a pig. The prophecy is true! Ranboo names him Nicholas with a nametag.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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lettrespromises · 4 years

Text

PLAN À TROIS.— TODOROKI, BAKUGOU.

A.N:

❝ dear reader,

why hello it is i, nikki, back at it again. this post was specifically written thanks to @sasukelore’s big brain, meaning that this one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooler system😔✊🏻. it’s my first attempt at writing smut (which means it’s a direct ticket to hell) so please bare with me, i hope you’ll like it! if you have any feedback, please feel free to send it to me! also, my requests are open for business hehe.

sincerely yours,

nikki.

P.S: “plan à trois” has a double meaning— it means “threesome” in french but it also literally means “a plan involving three people” which is the core of the story, both literally and figuratively. ❞

Genre: Smut. (All three of the characters have been aged up.)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs (but no actual use of drugs), unprotected sex (please use a condom), nudity, spanking, choking, cunnilingus, blow-job, temperature play, threesome, dirty things.

Word count: 6.5k (she’s a big girl, don’t be shy.)

Letter object: One hotel. One gala. One mission. One person to take down. Three heroes. You and Shoto have to play the perfect fake couple to gain your enemy’s trust, the only thing is, Shoto has no clue how to behave as a couple. The unexpected help comes from Ground Zero who seems a bit too impatient and eager to show Shoto how to really treat a lady.

Metaphorically speaking, the heroes are seen as the predators and the villains as the preys, it’s always been that way— an eternal game of hide and seek, which only ends in binary results, either victory or loss. The latest news concerning the hero world had put this little game to a halt: the hushed rise of the anti-quirks drugs were concerning. The enemy was everywhere and nowhere, it was all whispers, a thread of ‘who said what’, mere illusions replaced authentic clues. The rules of the game had been changed into a paradox where the villains became the predators and the heroes were deemed as the preys.

The rule of silence, which could have easily been personified as the ringleader of this dystopic scenario, was cruel— anyone could be suspected of being a link of the drug chain. But fret not, if you were suspected and voices started to echo around louder and louder, a little bit of hush money was the price to pay to reinstate the rule of silence. Anyone could be a culprit, even (or mostly) into the highest spheres of society. Those who are worshipped in an agnostic way, they were on top of the social food chain and, perhaps even, on top of the drug chain. These elites have been very vocal about their will to suppress the almighty authority pro-heroes possess— feeling threatened for their own sake and their own inferiority complex, they were willing to play dirty to be able to rule the country with an iron fist.

The corrupted elites still remained as elites and enjoyed their mondane occupations— galas being one of them. It was a dream opportunity for you as a pro-hero, a room crowded with highly potential culprits served on a silver plate with a cup of champagne to serve as the cherry on the cake.

Stealth missions were highly dangerous if you didn’t have a cover good enough, and treading on the playground of influential people could possibly cost you your career as a pro-hero, but if you managed to succeed, you were bound to bask in glory. Keeping a realistic cover is the number one check on the list entitled “how not to blow up your whole mission and be hated by the rest of the country.” Luckily enough, your agence had already done all the dirty work for you and sent you everything you needed— a flawlessly cut evening attire, a shockingly well-done fake ID and a full file regarding the background of your character, all down to the tiniest details. And I cannot emphasize enough “all” the details...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Amongst the myriad of details (and some of them were completely unnecessary, I mean, was your favorite fruit really important?), one of them was impossible to ignore. “Shoto Todoroki, really?” His name rolled off your tongue for a reason, you were supposed to play his pseudo fiancée for the night. Your thumb brushed the surface inked with his name, unconsciously wishing that if you were brushing hard enough, his name would disappear and so would your almost wilted high school crush on him.

Your silent complains were cut short, the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you from the invasion of your thoughts. Then the knocking sound echoed once more. “Just a second!” Has anyone heard of the concept of patience? Waiting a few seconds for someone to open the door isn’t a inhuman task. Eventually (although it could’ve have been funny to let this mysterious person fume because you purposefully took too long), you opened the door to your hotel room and it just felt like you had welcomed a storm in. Much to your surprise, there were two surprise guests, two U.A alumnis just like you— Shoto and Ground Zero.

“Well, shit, were you planning on letting us fucking die in the hallways, woman?! What the fuck took you so goddamn long, ha?” When I mentioned a storm earlier on today, I meant Bakugou Katuski— his annoyance was transcripted upon his face through the frowning of his eyebrows and the wrinkle sitting between them. “It’s good to see you too Bakugou, glad to see you missed me after all this time.” His hands were shoved in his pockets, clearly not keen on listening to your sarcastic remarks nor wearing a tuxedo for the night. “Tch. Keep your smart ass talk to yourself, dumbass.”

You had indeed let a storm invade your hotel room. But unbeknownst to you, you had also welcomed a hypotizing breeze, the polar opposite of Bakugou, and apparently future fiancé for the night: Shoto Todoroki. His facial expression reflected nothing but pure serinity, a signature stoic face which radically clashed with Bakugo’s scowl. Todoroki was so discreet, almost blending his presence with the newfound silence. He was wearing an evening suit of his own, aquamarine was his color after all, it was a known fact since your high school years.

“Y/N, as you may be aware, I am here for the stealth mission. Bakugou is going to accompany us just in case something goes wrong. It was a last minute change, but considering the household names who are going to attend this gala, too much precaution is better than not enough.” Ohh, so that was the reason why the angry gremlin was here. Although, you wondered how Shoto felt about the two of you acting as a fake engaged couple, was he still serene about that? “Yeah, while you two fake lovebirds will be busy eating each other’s faces off, I’m gonna be around to check if there is any intell on these anti-quirk selling bastards.” Each of his word was accompanied by a hand gesture pivoting between you and Shoto and, of course, the same old look of annoyance plastered upon his face. You and Shoto, on the other one hand, appeared a bit surprised at the use of “fake lovebirds”, it just hasn’t sunk in yet... Denial, perhaps?

“Speaking of kissing and shit— you, half and half bastard, do you still have a fucking stick up your ass or do you know how to act in a relationship?!” His interrogation was accompanied with a daring glance thrown in Todoroki’s direction and an eyebrow lifted just to emphasize the characteristic of his question a bit more. A bold question which immediately found its answer from the mouth of Todoroki, needless to say, you felt this remark coming. “Bakugou, you’re the last person here who could pretend having the knowledge necessary to provide relationship advices.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape at Todoroki’s remark highlighted by its bluntness, although you quickly changed your mind once you felt Bakugou’s stare landing on you with such rage causing you to hush your laugh by biting your thumb.

“Ha?! What the fuck did you just say, half and half bastard? Use that fucking mouth for yours for good measure and let’s see if you can kiss Y/N correctly. I won’t let this mission be blown up by your stupid ass.” This time, there was a hint of amusement in Bakugou’s voice, it was hard to distinct if he asked that because he truly cared about the mission or if he just wanted to push Todoroki out of his comfort zone. But the ghost of a smirk drawn upon his face seemed to support the second hypothesis.

“Guys, just a second here. I understand why we have to take care of our cover but it’s not like Todoroki and I are going to kiss all night long.” Your gaze alterned between Todoroki and Bakugou, it became impossible to hold your gaze on a fix structure due to how flustered you felt, and soon enough, your cheeks were quick to adopt a rosy tone. “Y/N, are you scared of kissing me by any chance?” You secretly hated the obvious tone of concern in Todoroki’s voice, he was willing to do anything to make this mission a success but also make sure you were comfortable around him. “N-No! It’s just… I don’t mind it.” What a miracle, you finally managed to look at him in the eyes but the blush on your cheeks was as lively as ever. “Then damn, if you don’t mind it just fucking kiss already we don’t have all night, dumbass.” You could tell by Bakugou’s body language that he was growing more and more impatient by the second, his arms were crossed over his chest— he was getting pissed.

Todoroki captured your attention once more when his index brushed the surface of your skin right below your chin while his thumb was carefully set upon your jawline. His orbs shone by their gleam of reassureance, his eyes met yours, as a silent way to ask your for permission and you fluttered your lids shut as an answer. As if it was some kind of second nature to him, his other arm compassed your waist in order to bring you close to him. His lips finally touched yours. Each one of his actions was so soft, you could barely feel them yet, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips were melting ever so perfectly with yours, as if your lips were the sole one which could fit is, you couldn’t help but to hum as the carefulness of his lips overwhelmed you. The kiss was shy, experimental, and yet so agonizing. He was temptingly and agonizingly slow, which only made you crave for more. However, given the lack of oxygen, you had no choice but to (relanctutly) break the kiss. You opened your eyes and basked in Todoroki’s beauty, still in awe at what just happ—… “Oi! Have you ever kissed anyone before, Icyhot? Fucking hell, what was that?!”

Of course this was bound to be expected— the angry gremlin in his natural behavior. You and Todoroki exchanged a look which held a thousand questions before you felt your wrist being caught by a much warmer palm, and eventually, you were yanked straight into Bakugou’s chest (not that you were complaining.) “Open your damn eyes and look, this how you fucking kiss a woman, dipshit.” The sound of his voice roaring against your eardrum made you flinch in the nicest way possible. Bakugou naturally made himself at ease all while maintaining his gaze upon Todoroki who was looking at him in return with a noticeable disdain in his eyes.

Bakugou was challenging him in a way, he perfectly knew that Todoroki was observing his every move, hence why he took the liberty to let his palm roam over the curve of your derrière as a way to taunt him. However, the taunt didn’t last too long not to make you feel uncomfortable. He quickly settled one of his hand on the small of your back (to maintain you as close to him as humanly possible) whilst his other hand was set upon your neck. He didn’t waste any more time and went straight to business.

Bakugou’s kiss was, as expected, a vivid contrast compared to Todoroki’s kiss. While Todoroki’s felt hesitant, caring, sweet… Bakugou’s kiss was rough around the edges and his sole purpose was to make your knees weak. Once he crashed his lips upon yours, he immediately swiped his tongue over the surface of your bottom lip, demanding immediate access to your mouth. You knew better than to upset Bakugou so you pleased and allowed his tongue to explore your mouth— your tongue was at his mercy for a few instants before finding a steady rhythm for you two. His presence was overwhelming— his smell, how close you were to him with nowhere to escape, his mouth, his tongue, everything caused you to rightfully let a moan escape into the kiss. At the sound of it, Todoroki’s eyes widened while Bakugou smirked into the kiss, he knew he made a point. You, in return, started to tug at his blonde hair— the rough atmosphere of the kiss affected your actions as well. Just prior to breaking the kiss, Bakugou’s teeth dug into your bottom lip and applied a few pressures while you were looking at him with pleading eyes to continue. Once he got what we wanted, he ended the kiss with a surprisingly soft peck upon your lips.

With his hand still settled on the small of your back, Bakugou turned to Todoroki’s direction and offered him his biggest smirk to show his secret victory. You were left breathless by the kiss, a series of uneven hot breaths crashed down onto Bakugou’s skin.

If anyone were to walk in your hotel room, they would be able to feel and even touch the graduating tension in the air which almost felt agonizing. The tension was mostly radiating off of the two men, a silent battle for dominance had been declared through glances, holders of pure will to outbest the other.

Todoroki observed the scene on his chair, and unbeknownst to him, Bakugou had indirectly offered him the best seat in the room to watch the manifestation of his talents. An almost inaudible sigh left Todoroki’s lips which translated into a sign of discontentment. “Y/N, come here.” The tone was strict, cold even, and you felt obligated to do as told.

Detaching yourself from Bakugou’s embrace (you could tell he didn’t want to let you go judging from how his palm lingered on your back), you stepped away and made your way to Todoroki, a quizzical look noticeable in the reflect of your eyes. “What now?” You asked. Todoroki gestured to his lap and you knew what it meant, it was a speech without any word necessary.

Paradoxically enough, Bakugou stared at the scenery in front of him in pure silence, and although it was very unlike him, he was mimicking Todoroki’s actions earlier on- he wanted to witness how Shoto was going to respond to his own deeds.

You placed your hands over Todoroki’s shoulders to gain stability before sitting on his lap, it was a foreign feeling, but goodness, it was already addicting as hell and you were not interested in finding a cure. Both of Shoto’s hands crawled on the same spot where Bakugou’s hands used to linger just a few moments ago, you understood rather quickly that he was using his own methods against him. You were the center of Todoroki’s attention, his gaze graced your frame and he was loving the sound of your uneven breath, he wondered if he could make your respiration even more irregular.

He paid no mind to mind to the silent Bakugou who was already fuming in his corner as Shoto delivered a succession of pecks on the delicate flesh of your neck, and you tilted your head just enough to let him play on a wider surface. He traded the pecks for a few daring bites on certain areas, he needed to find your weak spot. “A-Ah... Shoto!” the sound of his name rolling off your tongue coated in such bliss was enough for him to curve his lips into a smirk.

It was a brief moment of peace before he dug his teeth on the same spot and you failed to prevent any whimpers from coming out by biting your lower lip. He knew you were restricting yourself, prisoning these beautiful sounds of ecstasy, and he didn’t like any of it. He focused on your lower lip and rubbed the oh so soft surface with the pad of his thumb to prevent your from biting it, and thus, keeping your sounds of pleasure to yourself.

“Don’t be shy, love. I’m pretty sure both Bakugou and I can agree on the fact that the little sounds you’re making are too divine to be hushed. Will you be a good girl and let us hear the sounds you’re making?” It was as if his voice was coated with honey, just his voice alone was enough to make you feel weak, and if you paid enough attention, you were pretty sure he purposefully blew a fit of cold air onto the skin of your neck. “Yes, please... I’ll be good, so good.” From that moment you knew you were at his mercy and he enjoyed every second of it. “You’re such a good girl for us.”

And so he continued, but it was rougher this time, a harsh contrast compared to his hesitant kiss from just a few moments ago. His teeth dug into the flesh of your skin harder this time, the sole purpose of leaving a mark on your crimson colored flesh was haunting his mind. To accomplish said purpose, Todoroki alternated between biting motions and a few swipes of his tongue on the newly bruised skin. The whimpers coming out of your mouth shamelessly only added fuel to his fire. He knew what he was doing, and you knew just how sensitive this particular area could get.

Once he judged it was enough, he delivered a few pecks on the love bites, a way to kiss his art into your skin. “You’re so perfect, love, so perfect with my name written over your skin.” He whispered between kisses. Your head was thrown back, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, your mouth agape- your whole body language testified of the addictive effect he had on you.

Such bliss couldn’t last for long, and quickly enough, another voice was being heard, a roar even. “Oi, oi, oi! Don’t even think for a single fucking second that you can have her all to yourself, half and half bastard.” It was almost a miracle that Bakugou had observed you in silence, but as expected, patience was nowhere near his forte. He had already crossed his limit long before you sat on Todoroki’s laps. Bakugou’s eyes were strictly focused on your frame, he was completely under your spell after observing how your chest would rise and fall unevenly to grasp any ounce of oxygen.

Your knees felt weak already, you could only stare at Bakugou and silently ask him to continue, to make you feel even weaker, to make you experience pure bliss. You wanted to say his name, it was right on the tip of your tongue, but as you observed his figure reducing more and more the space between the two of you, you just admired him in silence.

“Hah? What’re you looking at, brat? You want more? Is that it? You want fucking more? Say no more.” You should’ve known that the wicked smirk plastered upon his face was a pre-indicator of what was bound to happen. He lifted you off of Todoroki’s lap, the latter frowned a bit at the lack of your presence on him, and carried you to the bed before dropping you on the mattress. Todoroki was quick to follow from behind and stood right next to Bakugou, his hands already busy taking off his jacket and unbuttoning the first button of his evening shirt. “I’m sure that Bakugou and I can find a little agreement. After all, we can share, correct?” Todoroki’s rhetorical question found its answer once Bakugou let a discreet chuckle escape from his mouth after throwing his jacket God knows where and messily undoing his tie. “We’re gonna take real fucking good take care of you, baby girl.”

You were refraining yourself from already touching you, it took all the strength in the world not to give in to the most passionate temptations. But deep down, you already knew you were bound to be overwhelmed by pure bliss judging by how they were looking at you. You could only hum in response, unsure of how your voice would have sounded under the heavy influence of desire.

Bakugou made the first move, after all, his poor soul felt left alone when Todoroki overwhelmed you with pecks and bites. He crawled over you, his knees were on each side of your waist, his hands however, assured total domination- his right hand clutched your wrists now pinned above your hand while his left palm settled by force on your throat, needless to say, the pressure was already applied on your windpipe. “You wanna’ play that game with me, hah?! Let Icyhot have all of you to himself and I got fucking nothing in return? Babygirl, I don’t watch, I fucking play.” It was too ferocious to be qualified as a whisper, and yet, when Bakugou pronounced the last bits of his sentence right in the shell of your ear, you felt like you were floating in pure bliss. “Answer me.” His grip on your throat felt a bit tighter. “P-Please... Ju-Just do whatever you want... With my body.” The lack of oxygen felt agonizing, you were deprived of fresh air and you were laying on the bed while Bakugou exuded pure confidence and domination, an aura so thick, you wished you could’ve touched it. “That’s my babygirl.”

As Bakugou’s lips crashed onto yours, forcing its tongue into your mouth while maintaining the right amount of pressure on your throat to offer you a panorama of new sensations, Todoroki had already gotten rid of his shirt. If you paid close attention, you could see shy flames on his shoulders, he was absolutely adoring the scenery unfolding before him. Everything about you filled his senses, the sight of you giving in to Bakugou was nothing short of divine, the whimpers leaving your mouth in cascade whether the reason was the lack of air or the fierceness of Bakugou’s intentions was the sweetest melody he had ever heard. Everything was perfect.

You felt the oxygen become one with your body again once Bakugou broke the kiss and allowed his hand to travel from your neck down to your chest, but his eyes were never leaving yours. He wanted to watch you come undone under his touch, he swore it to himself.

“I’ll take the bottom half. Icyhot, I don’t give a damn about what you do, just don’t fucking interrupt me.” His eyes were already set on the prize, your heat in all its glory. Shoto said nothing in response, you were the holder of all his undivided attention. As Bakugou took a firm grasp of your thighs, opening the way to his newfound purpose, Todoroki took over the top half of your body- he started by planting a succession of pecks from your lips down to your collarbone, passing by your neck, and each kiss was amplified by the cold air he was blowing on the surface of your skin. The contrast in temperature cause you to allow a few whimpers to escape, you already knew you craved for more, it was a way of manifesting it.

“You won’t need that, will you, love?” He said while pointing at your shirt, as his index was already hooking the fabric. It was a rhetorical question of course, you simply answered by humming. Your silent response was the only thing necessary for Shoto to send your shirt flying somewhere in the room. He continued his trail of kisses down to the valley of your breasts, the same cold air following him as he went.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, had already gotten rid off your skirt, but not before letting his palms explore the generous cheeks hidden underneath it, and eventually, leaving a slap right on this area which caused you to yelp in surprise. The pad of his thumb was already brushing against the surface of the fabric, oh what a pleasure it was when he felt the sensation of humidity coming through your underwear. A sensation so good, so addicting, so divine that it brought a sly grin to his face. “Already so wet for us, babygirl? You’re not wasting your damn time, hah?” Your skin was burning under his touch, you could already feel the chills running down your spine and he hadn’t even taken off your underwear yet.

Todoroki took the strap of your bra between his thumb and index, and much to your suprise, he used the right amount of his quirk to burn the fabric and applied the same treatment to the other strap. Before you could even protest about the poor outcome of your bra, he planted his lips on your own to keep you quiet. Now, he focused his attention to your breasts and the bits of clothing left which prevented the upper half of your body from being fully exposed. He took the opportunity given by Bakugou who had gotten rid of your underwear which made you arch your back to unclip your bra. There was nothing stopping him now. He let his gaze fell on you, so full of adoration, while he leaned down and caught the last piece of fabric remaining of your bra between his teeth. His eyes held so much envy, so much desires which reciprocated in the reflect of your own orbs.

Shoto threw your bra out of his mouth, and there you were- your body bare in all its glory. “Fuck, you’re so perfect...” He whispered right against your chest, causing you to let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding. He used his mother’s inherited side to trace the contour of your breasts, he knew he was going to earn a moan in return and he was so please to hear such a sinful melody at the clash of his cold fingers against your burning skin. His thumb and his index worked in harmony to twist the bud of your nipple and overwhelm it by Shoto’s cold touch while his tongue delivering hot saliva on your skin was already doing wonders on your other breast, a perfect balance between cold and hot which made your arousal erupt even more and someone was quick to notice...

“Oi, doll face, focus on me, not on this goddamn fucker. Don’t you feel so fucking good when I touch you like that, hah?” His burning jealousy amplified the voracity of his deeds. Every single one of his touch served the purpose of pleasuring you, but also outdo Todoroki’s touches. He needed to be the best at everything, including making you melt under his touch. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the desire to close your eyes and let your body attract all the attention while basking in pure bliss was too strong and yet, Bakugou’s voice roared into your mind, you couldn’t help but lay your eyes on him through half-closed lids.

Once he knew he was the bearer of all your attention, he put his body and mind to work. Both of his hands planted your thighs on each side of his body, you felt too weak to move under his touch and did not dare resist the pressure. You whined in advance because you knew what was coming- and boy, did he look good with his face buried between your thighs.

One long, sharp, vertical lick was all it took to let yet another moan escape your lips once more, and to Bakugou, it was the best reward. The heat of his tongue responded to the heat of your core, it was pure harmony. He licked the your core over and over again, tasting you, loving you, worshipping you even. One time he left lingering kisses to the side of your core, another time he was left licking motions all over your folds because your taste was the best thing he had ever felt. His motions echoed to your whines and moans, he was sure of hearing a sinful melody each time his tongue entered in contact with your skin.

“Keep making these noises for me, don’t be fucking shy.” His hot breath on the center of your heat embraced perfectly the succession of his actions, “Y-Yes... P-Please, I want... I need more.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let a low chuckle leave his lips, in response to your needy attitude, he left a harsh slap on the surface of your butt, to which you whined loudly in response. “Such a fucking filthy mouth you have there, hah?” He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly that what he was about to do was bound to leave you as a whimpering mess. Without any warning, he slid two of his fingers inside your core, and fuck, you were tight. His thumb was brushing against your sweet bundle of nerves which had already been cherished by Bakugou’s tongue earlier.

You clutched the sheets of the bed to release some of the buildup pressure inside, it was as if a tornado, a volcano and a firework were exploding at the same time in your stomach, each of them resulting in a series of whimpers and moans at the overstimulation. Your lids were shut close already, yet, they kept fluttering over the invisible crimson touches left by both Todoroki and Bakugou.

Speaking over Todoroki, he was tasting you in such a different way as he started to get the grip of Bakugou’s mechanic. His mind kept roaming and roaming, he knew that just one mark on your neck was not quite enough and he needed to beat Bakugou at his own game- he positioned himself right over your right breast and blew a fit of fresh air, causing him to smile at himself for being the reason of such a reaction, and dug his teeth into your flesh. Motivated by the the way you kept tugging at his hair, he kept biting the same area over and over again until sucking your flesh just enough to create yet another love bite over your breast, such an intimate area, isn’t it? And now his whole name was written on it.

“B-Bakugou... I can’t take it... Ahh! Anymore, please, please...” His fingers weren’t enough anymore, you were pleading his name, begging him to become one with you because you were unsure as to how you were going to keep the unleashed pressure within you ruin you. “So eager for my fucking cock, aren’t you?! You’re gonna count with me each inch entering your fucking cunt, got it?” You were willing to do anything at this point- Todoroki’s bites and his cold touch, Bakugou’s fingers and tongue, it made you fill dizzy but you knew, deep down, you were slowly approaching a pure state of bliss. “Yes... Yes I will.”

For his own purpose, Bakugou took his fingers off your core and flipped you on your stomach so you could be on all fours. You were giving him the view of worthy of a masterpiece: the crimson colored marks on your butt cheeks, the vivid rosy tone of your dripping core, oh he wanted all of you. “Love, don’t you forget that I’m here too, right? Open your pretty mouth for me.” You did as Todoroki preached, opening your mouth for him to stick his index in there. “Suck.” he commanded, to which you obliged by creating hollows in your cheeks and embrace his finger around your tongue, this feeling was beyond perfect, beyond the wildest fantasies his imagination had to offer. He could only let his subconsciousness roam about how his cock would feel around your perfectly pouted lips.

Bakugou’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers turning white in the process while your flesh adopted a reddish tone in response. With the use of the pad of his thumb, he spread the pre-cum leaking all over his length, and so it began: the first inch. “One.”, it sounded more like an order than a statement, “...One.” you echoed, your response didn’t come quick enough to Bakugou’s liking, making you earn a harsh slap on your cheeks in return. Then another inch “Two.” , another faint sound coming from your lips “T-Two...”, yet another slap on your abused flesh. And so it went on, the process remained the same- another inch, another whisper escaping your mouth between sobs, another spank.

On the other side of the bed, Todoroki was stroking his own length at the sight before him. You were on the brim of tears, and Bakugou didn’t show any mercy regarding your current state. “I’m sorry, her mouth is going to be full soon, she won’t have room to count out for you.” Bakugou grunted in response to Todoroki’s taunt. His strokes became gradually faster, like a crescendo if you will. His other hand, however, was placed right underneath your jaw to give you some support and your mouth was already open in anticipation for what was bound to happen.

With his hand to keep your jaw steady, you welcomed Todoroki’s lenght into your mouth and he automatically let a groan as the tip of your tongue caressed his sensitive tip. You imagined how rewarding it must have felt for them to hear your own moans and whimpers because hearing Todoroki’s moan felt like a blessing to your eardrums.

Your tongue circled around his cock, your hand was pumping his length, and Todoroki wondered if this is what heaven looked and felt like. Your whimpers were hushed by the presence of his member in your mouth, but somehow, even these half silenced sounds of pleasure sounded even better to his ears. He felt his lids shut close under the miracle work of your tongue while his hand lingered in your hair to motivate you to keep going.

Bakugou, frustrated by this change of plans due to Todoroki’s own personal pleasure, slid the entirety of his phallus into you abruptly. The shock caused you to remove Shoto’s member from your mouth momentarily to catch your breath and release yet another whine before pleasuring Todoroki again. That came as a surprise to no one, not even Shoto himself, but Bakugou’s pace was rough and almost animalistic.

The sound of his testicles clapping against your flesh testified of the pace and yet, it felt so enticing. Bakugou was not so vocal, but he did leave his fair share of grunts as he buried himself into you more and more until reaching your cervix. It was too much, your core was burning, hell your whole body was on fire. The tears that threatened to fall had put their threat to execution, you knew you were close, the overstimulation was getting the best of you leaving you in a whimpering, trembling mess.

You continued to stroke Shoto’s length with your tongue, but his need to take control took over him. The same hand that rested in your hair suddenly took a firm grasp of your hair and he thrusted himself into your mouth and from there, his grunts became more repetitive. Truthfully, it was the only push he needed to bring him over the edge, the previous work of your tongue had put him under a spell. A spell he never wanted to wake up from. He knew what was coming, you felt it too but how the tip of his phallus was tickling your throat deeper and deeper.

Shoto didn’t even notice the small flames making their apparition on the blades of his collarbone, meaning that it was finally time for him to cum. He set your mouth free and hinted his length towards your chest, letting the drips of cum color your skin, and allowed the most magical moan to leave his already parted lips in satisfaction. “Love, look what you fucking did to me. You’re so beautiful, so beautiful with my cum all over you.” Your first instinct was to fill your lungs with oxygen, something so common yet it was cruelly needed. You looked through your lashes at Shoto with pleading eyes while he looked at you with a glimpse of adoration in his. His digit was carefully wiping the excess of cum leaking down your chin to place it right into your mouth. He could only stare in awe at the sight of you tasting him. He felt so full, and fulfilled. He was finally at peace, soaking in pure bliss.

The grasp Bakugou was holding over your hips became even harsher, which you though was impossible just a few seconds before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grunted, trying to keep his volume at bay by digging his teeth into his lower lip but it was all too much to be contained. He knew his climax was close, so close that he could picture it if he closed his eyes just for a second. Bakugou’s name fell on your lips like a forbidden prayer, his name had turned into the only thing you were able to say. “I-...Ah! Inside, inside, fuck, please...”, you felt a wave of pleasure taking over your body, a pleasure so intense, no word could have done it justice. Oh well, that was the sole indication he needed to hear before digging his nails into your sides, causing you to arch your back and bite the sheets, already preventing the cascade of whimpers from echoing in the room. “Fucking hell... Cum with me, now.”

With one last thrust, Bakugou came within you, his face was facing the ceiling as he came undone with you. His cum slid within you and in return, your body thanked him by letting your own juice flow all over his length.

Silence invaded the room. No more grunts, no more moans, no more cries. Pure silence inhabited by the uneven breaths of three protagonists who had just touched heaven by the tip of their fingers. Three victims of passion.

Bakugou pulled out of you, earning a whimper in return at the sudden feeling of vacuity. Your legs were shaking, and you secretly thanked every God for allowing you to stay relatively steady on all fours for this long and be able to endure the bestial-like pace of Bakugou. Needless to say, you were panting, you mouth was agape and you were crying for air. Your body immediately crashed onto the mattress, the soft feeling of the sheets enveloping your skin after reaching heaven made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud.

Bakugou and Todoroki shared a look, a small grin even, before crashing down onto the mattress next to you. You were unable to move, your mind was comparable to a wild blur as a result of your orgasm. A rush of words flew through your air but absolutely none of them was powerful and meaningful enough to qualify how you were feeling. At peace? No, not strong enough. Full? Nope, did not carry enough meaning. It was a unique feeling, worthy of all the praises in the world.

Todoroki draped an arm over your waist and left a trail of kisses upon the flesh of your shoulder, a silent way to thank you for allowing him to experience heaven in a rush. Bakugou, on the other one hand, was facing your back and allowed his index to draw invisible patterns on the skin of your back. Paradoxically enough, the silence carried more words and emotions than an actual speech. Until...

“So... Um, about the mission?”

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erinxneil · 4 years

Text

22: “Sorry we are late, we were totally not having sex.”

Thank you so much for suggesting this @mortallythoughtfulgurl ! It made me super happy to see that you enjoyed my previous post enough to suggest a specific number! I plan to do all of the prompts on the list, however if there are any specific numbers that you’d like me to do sooner then simply send me a request and I will do so! These prompts are all from the list here.

masterlist

TW: Mentions of Reid’s prior drug problem, mentions of family death.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Summary: Spencer doesn’t quite understand the concept of being subtle.

>>>These are all basically one-shots! This doesn’t follow the story line as the last post that I made, however I may do a series soon :)

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I smiled as I packed away my things. Not only had the team just solved another successful case.

I, myself had managed to save the victim, as I was able to talk down the unsub simply by using my words. I did this as I understood what the unsub was going through. While, of course, resorting to murder and becoming a serial killer isn’t exactly the first thing that I did after discovering that my sister had been murdered, although I was able to empathize with the killer and thus convince him that murdering a girl who bared resemblance to his kin would not revive her.

I felt my smile droop the faintest bit. While the victory of a successful case made me feel like rejoicing, this case had brought up poor memories. I shrugged them off and headed for the door.

“Hey, Y/N!” JJ called out. I turned around slowly, eyebrow perked in question. “You coming out tonight? We thought we’d head out for some drinks.”

I offered her a tight smile. “Not tonight, guys, sorry.”

Spencer coughed. “Yeah, me neither, I’m not really feeling it.”

Emily frowned. “Reid, didn’t you just say that you we-”

He coughed again. “Yeah. Changed my mind. I’m not feeling well. Is that a problem, Emily?” Spencer cocked an eyebrow in challenge, as if trying to be intimidating. I chuckled a little. While Spencer could be intimidating as hell during cases, such as during interrogations, we all know that he would never do anything that could remotely harm us. However, his sass was welcomed and quite amusing.

I turned. “Well, goodnight, friends. See you tomorrow.” Before I could take even more than three steps, my name was called again.

“Wait, Y/N! You took an Uber here, right?” I blinked. Oh, right, I had completely forgotten about that. I had known we would be leaving the state for a few days for the case, and didn’t want to leave my car here. How did Reid remember that, yet I didn’t? Spencer disrupted my thoughts again. “Well- uh, I could give you a ride. If you’d like.” I quirked an eyebrow at how fidgety he was being.

“Alright, lover-boy, lead the way.” His cheeks tinged at the nickname. It was admittedly quite cute, however he quickly ducked his head and lead me to the car, shielding his face with his hair so that I would be unable to see his blush.

-*-*-*-*-*-

We drove in relative silence for a majority of the car ride. Although surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward. As the case hit me harder than I expected, I welcomed the silence, and was thankful that Spencer didn’t force any conversation between us.

“It’s just the left up ahead.” I muttered quietly. Reid bit the inside of his cheek, eyes remaining focused on the road ahead of him. I blinked as he drove completely past the turn. “Uh, you missed it.” I chuckled nervously.

“I’m not taking you home.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Reid, I hope you don’t plan on kidnapping me. For a profiler, you should know that considering you were the one to give me a ride home, everyone at the BAU saw me get into your car, which would make you a prime suspect.” He smiled softly. “I’m not kidnapping you, Y/N, I just wanted to show you something.”

I furrowed my eyebrows but didn’t question him further until we pulled up on the top of a cliff.

“Woah.” I murmured, admiring the beautiful landscape before me. In the distance, snowy mountaintops scattered the planes, with ashy planes and various kinds of trees. It was the type of image that you would find as a laptop screen background, one that you never imagined you would see in person.

“Where are we?” I questioned. When I wasn’t met with an answer, I turned to glance at Spencer, who jumped in surprise at me looking at him. He blinked abruptly, as if being taken out of a trance.

“This is called Possum Point- or, at least, a crook of it. I come here often when I feel particularly struck by cases that we have.” I smiled. “It’s beautiful. However, I don’t really understand why you’re showing me this.”

Spencer unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, before moving to my door and opening it for me. He then sat on the hood of the car and patted the spot beside him with a grin. I sat, and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m a profiler, you can’t really suppose that I didn’t notice that you took this case personally?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “So what?”

Reid shrugged. “I just figured you’d want someone to talk to. Or at least, I wanted you to know that there’s someone available to listen, if you’re willing.” The corner of my lip tugged upwards. In the moonlight, the features of the man next to me seemed ever the more beautiful. He held direct eye-contact, something that was rare for Spencer, and therefore I knew how genuinely he wanted to comfort me. His delicate features were something I had never really taken notice of before. Before, he was simply Reid. The brainiac agent- sorry, Doctor- whom you happened to work beside. Now, not only did you acknowledge the beauty of his facial structure, you also understood that there was more to him than useless facts and magic tricks. He held compassion that he was willing to offer you.

“Y/N?” His soft voice broke me from my thoughts. In the process of admiring him, you had completely forgotten that he was speaking to you. You sighed.

“I just understand the pain and anger that Homer was feeling. I mean, obviously murder isn’t a reasonable reaction. However, I can understand being angry at the world and wanting to make others feel the pain that you do.” I frowned. “When my sister died, I was in a dark place, and often took out my anger on the people who cared about me, because I didn’t understand how they were allowed to continue living their lives being happy, while my sister wasn’t able to even continue living.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gently rubbed my arm. “I can’t even imagine how that must have felt. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. Having people all around you but still feeling entirely alone...” His voice trailed off softly. This reminded you that he said he himself comes often when cases cut him too deeply.

“Spencer, what kinds of cases cause you to come out here to reflect?”

“Usually when we have cases focused on unsubs with a drug addiction.” Reid muttered. My eyebrows raised in surprise. I had heard office chatter of rumors of a drug addiction that Reid had battled alone a year or two prior to your arrival at the BAU, although you always took them with a grain of salt, as you hadn’t heard it straight from his mouth. However, it appears that now, you could confirm your suspicions.

You offered him a faint smile. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to it about, or you’d simply like some company on this cliff as well, I’d be more than happy to abide. I feel much better than I did when we left the office.”

Reid met my smile with a grin. “Glad to be of service.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

The next day at work, I could tell that the dynamic between Spencer and I had been altered. Usually, we simply worked beside each other, sparing words of encouragement every now an then. However, after that night, we stole glances, smiled at each other, and often conversed on the jet. We eventually began having lunch together. Spencer would buy me coffee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I bought it for him on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We knew each other's orders- I took mine black, while his required as much sugar was available.

Weeks went by, and we only drew closer.

“Alright everyone, remember, dinner tonight at Jose’s Diner! We’re celebrating the release of Rossi’s newest book!” JJ explained to the team as we prepared to leave for the day. “You are to arrive at 8 PM sharp, if you’re late you better have a really good excuse!”

I grinned at JJ’s scolding. While we all knew that she wouldn’t be able to do anything to us, she’s quite terrifying when she’s angry, so I doubted that anyone would dare to arrive a minute after 8:00. I began to head for the door when I was stopped by a nervous Spencer.

“Hey, Y/N, could I give you a ride home?” I grinned. “Of course, Spence.”

When we arrived, I glanced at him expectantly. “So, I suppose you had a reason for offering to drive me home, other than the obvious of course, of you simply enjoying my company.” I smiled coyly, and he scratched the back of his neck anxiously.

“Y/N,” he began slowly, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night on the cliff.” I blinked in surprise, but stayed silent, allowing him to continue. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’ve seen me for who I am and it’s like the more time I spend with you, the longer I want to. I’m not quite sure what this feeling is, or what to do about it, but-”

I cut off his rant by planting my lips on his, one hand on the side of his jaw. He froze at first, taken by surprise, however he quickly melted into the kiss and responded. Pulling away for a moment, he smirked, “So I suppose that you feel the same?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement. “Just shut up and kiss me.” I pulled him closer again by the collar of his shirt, and he returned with no protest.

-*-*-*-*-*-

I smoothed out my dress quickly and checked my makeup one last time in the car mirror before turning to Spencer with a smile. It was 8:24. “Alright, we lost track of time a little bit so we don’t have as much time to debrief as I’d like. Remember, just for now, we are keeping this to ourselves. We haven’t even necessarily discussed this between ourselves yet, therefore there is no reason to involve our coworkers right now. You happened to be giving me a ride when your car broke down. Understood?”

Spencer nodded. “Understood.”

“Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Completely understood.”

We walked into the building together and stood next to our coworkers table. All of their eyes lifted to us expectantly. I opened my mouth to give an explanation, however Spencer beat me to it.

“Sorry we are late. We were totally not having sex.”

I blinked. Reid blinked. Our coworkers blinked. The waitress blinked. The table beside us blinked. The clock on the wall blinked.

I sighed. “Well, so much for secrecy.”

-*-*-*-*-*-

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chaos-is-beautifvl · 3 years

Text

Broken

Chapter II: Crocodile Tears

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warnings: let me know if i missed any ; cops, police stations, interrogation rooms, mentions of anxiety, panic, and murder

word count: 1072

She was sitting on her old wooden stool, back hunching slightly as she leaned forward to add the tiny details to her painting. She leaned back, a smile coming across her face as she inspected the artwork. It was nowhere near done, but she was still proud of the portion she had completed.

She stood up and walked into the kitchen to wash her paint-stained hands in the sink. As she was washing them, a knock came at her door. She yelled out a 'just a second' before quickly finding a towel laying around and wiping her hands off as she made her way to her door.

She peered into the peephole of her door, which gave her the view of her apartment complex's hallway. Not knowing who the person at the door was, she didn't unlock or open the door. She had watched way too many horror movies to know that you don't just open your door for a random stranger.

"Police! Open up!" the voice out in the hall said. The girl raised an eyebrow, confused as to why the police would be at her door. 'Maybe they need help with a case or something,' she thought as she started to unlock the door. Little did she know, they weren't there to ask for her help, rather accuse her of committing said crimes.

She opened the door to see two police officers instead of just one. She assumed the other had joined when she stepped away from the door.

She smiled politely at the two men, "Hello, officers. What can I do for you?"

One of the men spoke, his voice gruff, "Are you Y/N L/N?"

The girl nodded and was about to ask what they were there for when she was interrupted. The man who spoke stepped forward, turning her around and putting her arms behind her back. Panic washed over when cold, metal cuffs clung to her wrists, even more so as the officers escorted her out the safety of her apartment and into the back of a police car.

She was replaying the events of today in her head as she sat at the table. At some point, in between the agents coming in and leaving, her wrists went numb, so she no longer felt the irritation of the metal digging into her skin. It was the only good thing that'd come from her sitting there.

When the door opened again, she popped her head up a little to see who it was. Agent Jareau, from earlier, came in with a cup of water and a somewhat thick file in hand. She set the file and the cup down to remove those wretched handcuffs.

The girl sighed in relief, slowly rotating and massaging her wrists to get the blood flow going again. When the woman carefully slid the water over to her, the girl was ready to gulp it down but wasn't sure if she should, so she just looked to the blonde.

The woman nodded her head, a small smile on her face. With that, the girl lifted the paper cup to her lips and took a long drink. Her throat was no longer dry like the Sahara desert from the anxiety and stress of her current situation.

She then set the cup down and sat up a little straighter before turning to the woman, who was now sitting in the chair across her.

"I'm not really- uh, sure why I'm here," the girl started, trying to keep her voice steady. "I've never killed anybody, and I certainly haven't been an accomplice."

The blonde, blue-eyed woman sat forward in her chair, arms perched onto the table. She sighed before opening the file to the right of her. She looked at the girl as she pushed the manila folder over to her. The girl gave her a confused look before peering down at the contents.

Her face contorted into one of shock, panic, and confusion. Are these real people...? It seemed as though every person inside the manila folder was killed using different methods, each one as gruesome as the one before.

She looked up to the woman as she tore her eyes away from the people. The pictures having shown them before and after their murders. They all looked so happy, but their fate was grim. Something about them seemed oddly familiar to the girl. Her voice shook as she spoke, "You think I did this?"

"There is a lot of circumstantial evidence that led us to you." The girl's face dropped. What evidence could they possibly have on me?

"Listen, Agent Jareau," the agent nodded her head for the girl to continue, "While what happened is truly terrible, I had nothing to do with it."

"Well, you see, the problem is that you have interacted with all of these people. Either through your work or by simple passing." The girl looked back down at the faces, and a small gasp left her mouth when the realization hit her. She had interacted with these people. Some were regulars at the book cafe she worked at, and some had contracted her to do artwork for them.

The girl shook her head, a hand rising to her mouth when the imagery of those people murdered entered her mind. Tears filled her eyes, not in remorse but shock and fear. What in the hell going on? And why do they think I'm involved?

She cleared her throat, correcting her posture, "I didn't do this, but I would like to get a lawyer." She spoke meekly, afraid that if she spoke any louder, she would crumble.

The agent nodded and picked up the case file. Before she walked out of the room, she turned to look at the visibly frightened suspect, who had a stray tear rolling down her cheek.

The only things that came to the agent's mind were: Is she crying because she feels remorse? Or is it because she got caught? Or could it possibly be that she had nothing to do with this and was crying because she was scared? Or could her crying be all a part of her act?

The agent wasn't sure. She closed the door behind her and stepped into the conference room where her team was waiting. The same team who had just so happened to see the entire interaction from a small camera in the corner of the room.

a/n: how are you guys liking it so far? if you would like to be tagged, just let me know. also, requests for the cm characters are open. i predominately write for spencer, but i'm willing to write for the others. guidelines are in pinned post!

#third chapter out friday #broken series #my writing #chaos-is-beautifvl #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid series #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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fun-with-colors · 3 years

Text

Persona 5 Royal and “Poe’s Masquerade”

I recently (read: a few minutes ago) saw a post about how Beneath the Mask is a brilliant and tragic character study of Joker, and I felt compelled to talk about some of the awesome references in Persona 5 Royal (not sure if they’re all in the vanilla game, never played it.)

So, in Beneath the Mask, there’s the line “I’m a shapeshifter, at Poe’s Masquerade,” right? Which is a reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. Seems like a pretty cut-and-dry thing, it ties into the theme of there not being anything beneath the mask, as was the case in Poe’s Masque. Well, I am here to tell you that that particular reference is anything but simple. It’s brilliant.

Fair warning: this is gonna be a long post.

First off, some context on The Masque of the Red Death. It’s a short story where, basically, there’s this plague going on. It’s called the Red Death, it makes you sweat blood and die in less than an hour. Terribly contagious, the Red Death. So this rich guy gathers up all of his friends and allies to hole up in his abbey, and locks the gates behind them. A few months in, they decide to throw a rocking masquerade party.

The party is structured as such:

There are 7 rooms in order, each color-coded. Blue, then purple, then green, then orange, and then violet. The last room is black, and lit up by red lights. There’s a big imposing clock in the last room, and whenever it chimes the hour everyone stops partying until the clock is done, and then resumes.

Everything’s going great while people are dying outside until midnight, when this new guy shows up in a gaudy red costume that looks like a corpse killed by the red death. The host chases this guy down with a dagger. They go through all the rooms, and once they reach the last room the host finally looks the mysterious stranger in the face, and instantly dies. The guests panic and remove the mask to see who it was, only to find that there was nothing there. The guests then all also die to the Red Death.

Grim, right? Well, it also has a lot of striking similarities to Shido’s palace.

The basic premise of some rich asshole trying to save only his friends from the plague on the land, only this time the plague is one that he himself has orchestrated: the mental shutdowns. Those on his ship are safe from being permanently cancelled, while those who aren’t (like the Shujin principal) are not.

The letters of introduction parallel the 7 rooms, since all of that preparation is in the eventual goal of unlocking the final room.

The guests on the ship are all wearing masks that look a heck of a lot like masquerade masks.

The intruder, ie: the thieves.

as a last-ditch effort to kill the thieves, Shido takes a pill that will temporarily kill him, mirroring the moment when the host dies in The Masque of the Red Death.

But wait! We’re not done!

That is just the first layer of references

This is why I said that it was gonna get super long. Strap in folks, because those references aren’t even an original choice that the game made. They’re INHERITED references. Also I have a lot to say, and am bad at being succinct. Well, they say that if you can’t be concise, you can at least be interesting, and I hope that I’ve managed that.

Some more context:

Akechi is based off of the famous Japanese detective Akechi Kogoro. The author of the Akechi Kogoro stories is a man by the pen name of Edogawa Ranpo. If that name sounds familiar, it should. It is, as wikipedia puts it, “A rendering of [Edgar Allan] Poe’s name.”

There is one Akechi Kogoro story, called Gold Mask (Or The Gold Mask, or The Golden Mask), that is especially relevant here. In it, Akechi goes up against the mysterious Gold Mask, who turns out to be none other than Arsene Lupin.

It should not be surprising how many similarities there are, but I am somehow surprised nonetheless.

These are some insane connections, y’all. I’m basically just gonna retell the events of the story because it’s mostly relevant anyways. It’s not even all about the red death thing. Also I just really like this section of the story. This is gonna get rambly, but bear with me here.

Ok so first plot twist: this book also references The Masque of the Red Death. Big time. Like, there is a chapter titled “The Masque of the Red Death.”

The setting: a masquerade ball put on by the French Ambassador (The Count de Rouzieres). The ball takes place in seven chambers, in the same color order as in the original story. This time, however, they are set up so that one can only see one room at a time. Do note that the final room is described as making things look as though they are “somehow not of this world.”

The inevitable twist

Guess who shows up unannounced at the moment the clock strikes midnight? Ding ding ding! That’s right, it’s the Gold Mask.

(The next chapter is called “The Gold Death”)

The investigator who had been Akechi’s sidekick (more on that later) chases after the Gold Mask, along with the Count and one other dude.

I’m just gonna quote the book’s description of the third man.

“It was impossible to identify the man on account of his eccentric costume. [...] He wore a form-fitting black shirt and trousers, black shoes, black socks, a black cloth on his head, the ends of which rose sharply into two long horns, and, of course a face mask.”

...Yeah. I was way more surprised to find out that that design is straight out of the source material than to find out who that mysterious third man was. (more on why akechi was disguised in a bit)

The Count is the first into the final room with the Gold Mask. No sooner does he enter than the other two men hear a gunshot. They run in, fearing the worst.

Turns out it’s the Gold Mask who’s been shot by the Count. They pull off the mask and discover... the Count’s interpreter. One of the investigators declares that the interpreter must be the gold mask, and this all can be called off. The guy’s dying, everything’s fine.

Suddenly, the man with the black mask starts laughing. They demand he removes his mask, he does so and reveals himself as Akechi Kogoro. Akechi insists that this man cannot be the Gold Mask, because Arsene Lupin is the gold mask.

Everyone else thinks he’s ridiculous, until he gets the dying interpreter to confess that yes, he was working for Arsene Lupin.

Now. The part that makes this all really funny is that as the interpreter is dying, he points out to Akechi who Arsene Lupin is (since Lupin has so many disguises as to not fundamentally have a true identity). The interpreter points to (dun dun duhDUH) The Count of Rouzieres, the French Ambassador to Japan.

Obviously the police commissioner is finding that hard to believe, but when Akechi produces an envelope that he claims is evidence, he orders that the rest of the investigators and guests leave the room, so that it’s only him, the POV character, Akechi, and the Count.

The letter is apparently from another well-known detective familiar with Arsene Lupin, full of evidence that proves that the Count of Rouzieres is actually Arsene Lupin. Incriminating stuff, blah blah blah.

Arsene admits to being, well, arsene, and then proceeds to have a superficially amicable conversation with Akechi. He then pulls his gun out of nowhere and threatens to shoot akechi. Suddenly, the detective who supplied Akechi with the note (his name is Weber) jumps out of the clock mechanism behind Arsene and confiscates his gun. Arsene Lupin is about to be arrested, with no way out. One of the investigators pulls out his own gun on Arsene, and both Akechi and the police commissioner are very experienced in making arrests. Even beyond that, there’s an entire crowd of investigators waiting outside the only door.

We cut to the aforementioned crowd of investigators, who have just noticed that the voices from inside the room have gotten very quiet. After knocking and hearing only silence, they decide to open the door.

The room is empty.

We cut back to Arsene, who is acting very confident despite his precarious circumstances. He says that he has the power to create such a catastrophe as to make it impossible for them to arrest him, before calmly walking out of the only door in the room.

The detectives call for the police officers outside to arrest Arsene, but... there doesn’t seem to be anyone there to do it. He locks the door to the room from the outside, and flees out of an open glass window and down a fire escape to his waiting allies. (very similar to the way Joker attempts to escape from the Casino, and VERY similar to how he ultimately escapes from the interrogation room.)

It turns out that the “black-velvet room” was actually a cleverly disguised elevator, with the mechanism in the clock. Arsene used the elevator to separate the detectives from the rest of the investigators, and to make his escape for real. It is SHOCKING to me that of all the things in persona 5, the interrogation room escape is ENTIRELY true to the source material. It’s wild.

Anyways, I’ll stop there. I’ll probably make another post with all of the miscellaneous connections between the Gold Mask and Persona 5, since there are a lot. I’ve had this topic sitting in my brain for a while.

Edit: I forgot to get to why Akechi was disguised. Well, it turns out that’s another connection: Akechi had been presumed dead. Everybody thought he had been shot. Turns out it was just a fake version of himself, a trick taken from Sherlock Holmes. (and one that shows up in Persona 5 Royal). He was taking advantage of the fact that everyone thought he was dead to get more info without being suspected.

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #persona 5 spoilers #persona 5 royal spoilers #original oat #fun with rambles #arsene lupin #akechi kogoro #goro akechi #akechi goro #akira kurusu #ren amamiya

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sodone-withlife · 3 years

Text

one sentence

i saw sumayyah‘s answer to an anon’s ask (so all credit for this idea goes to them) about that scene in Omnivore where Rossi is offering Hotch his gun and this thing pretty much wrote itself (which is exceedingly rare lmao), so here is something that i thought would be just a few hundred words but ended up being a really long interpretation of the Foyet arc with hurt/minimal comfort with a good amount of pre-Mortch (or you can see them as platonic, i think it’s up for interpretation).

also, just a quick heads up, i love Papa Rossi, but for the purposes of this fic, it might seem a little bash-y towards him

warnings: quite a bit of suicidal ideation, (almost) attempted suicide, implied/referenced suicide, canon-typical violence, canonical character death

word count: 7.9k words

The highlighted words stared back at Hotch as Shaunessy’s words echoed in his mind.

A deal with the devil.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” he told Garcia.

“Because I found it, do I get to know what it’s about?” the analyst asked, unrepentantly curious. Hotch sent her a look.

Might as well. Shaunessy’s not going to last much longer, and we’ll be called in… “The Reaper,” he said simply.

“Like—the Boston Reaper?” Garcia lowered her voice as she named the notorious killer. Hotch nodded. “I didn’t even know the BAU worked on that case,” she remarked.

“1998,” Hotch informed her, remembering caffeine-fueled sleepless nights and the palpable fear on the streets. “It was my first case for the BAU as lead profiler.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but we don’t have a profile for the Reaper in the system, do we?”

Not in the system, no. “That’ll be all Penelope, you can go home now,” Hotch told Garcia, turning to the bottom drawer of the shelf behind his desk as the analyst nodded and left. Pulling out a worn folder bursting with papers and photos, he placed the newspaper clipping and the evidence bag protecting the contract into it. He left it to the side and refocused on the folder in front of him filled with sheets of old handwritten notes filled with annotations and crossed-out sections.

There will be no sleeping tonight.

Early September, 1998

“You’re sending me?” Hotch was sitting ramrod straight in surprise, blindsided by Gideon’s sudden decision.

“Yeah,” Gideon answered simply, leaning back in his chair as much as he could in the cramped space and looking supremely unperturbed. “Do you not want to go?”

Hotch shook herself out of his shocked state, scrambling to gather his wits. “No—I mean, I’ll go, but—”

“But?”

Hotch carefully evaluated his words. “I’ve only been here a few months, and you’re sending me to Boston—alone—to help with the Reaper case? The case that has been going on for three years, longer than I’ve even been an agent, involving a killer that could probably put the Zodiac to shame?”

The older agent shrugged. “I have to stay and hold down the fort since we are severely understaffed, but I’ll always be a phone call away, and you’re mainly there just to act as eyes for the both of us. You’re not working on this alone.”

Hotch stiffened as a sudden—but careful—warm touch on his hand pulled him out of the spiral of self-doubt he had been teetering over and grounded him. He brought his eyes back to Gideon and was surprised to see complete openness and no signs of deception or maliciousness that he had been forced to learn long ago at the hands of his father.

“I’m not Dave,” Gideon began seriously, “I wasn’t the one who pulled you over here or the one you started out shadowing under, but I do talk to people. I know about your record in prosecution, in Seattle, and in SWAT, and it is very telling. You never doubted yourself before, and I have no doubt that you can handle yourself, so why are you starting now?”

He leaned back, clearly done with the impromptu pep talk that Hotch, still frozen, figured happened once in a blue moon based on what Rossi had told him about the unit before he retired. The cramped room was silent as Hotch felt Gideon watching him struggling with internal strife. Slowly, he released some of the tension that was coiled within him, and Gideon turned back to his stack of consults with an air of satisfaction.

“Start packing, Agent Hotchner. Boston awaits your presence.”

Late November, 1998

“Do you know what the hell is going on?” Hotch immediately asked when the call went through, pacing around his hotel room.

“And a good evening to you too.”

“Gideon.”

“What is it, Hotch?” his tone changed from dry to worried in a heartbeat, hearing the uncharacteristic urgency in his agent’s voice and the lack of nervousness that usually showed his agent’s discomfort towards using the less-formal form of address.

“Shaunessy, the lead detective,” Hotch spat out, throwing the case file that was in his hand on the bed. “He closed the case.”

“And that warrants a phone call at eleven PM, why?”

Hotch bit back a sharp retort, letting out a sharp breath. “You know I’ve been re-interviewing the victims’ friends and family, going through everything they had and lines of investigation that may have been dropped, working the profile along the way, but there have been no viable suspects, even with the accelerated killings,” he said quickly, a mess of emotions swirling inside him. “Gideon, no arrests have been made but he closed the case, just like that.”

“Remind me, when was the last victim?”

“Just over six weeks ago, a month after I got here. I know what you’re thinking,” Hotch said when Gideon didn’t respond, “that the case just went cold, but there were still things I had people following up on. It’s not cold,” he insisted.

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it, Hotch. I know you don’t like it, but the locals have point on this.”

Hotch sighed, but it did nothing to calm him down. “I know,” he said, annoyed. “I’m catching an early train back to DC, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

January 2003

“The Reaper?”

Hotch slammed the folder shut and looked up from his desk, startled. He sent Gideon a glare, glad that no one else was there to see his composure slip, but he only looked vaguely concerned.

“It’s been just over four years,” Gideon commented neutrally. “You’ve had that folder at the bottom of your third drawer, and you’ve pulled it out at least forty different times since ‘98.”

Hotch stared up at him in a challenge. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Gideon shook his head. “Just be careful. Don’t get too drawn into the chase.”

~~~

Sighing as he rubbed the familiar ache on the back of his neck that always appeared during paperwork days and especially stressful cases, Hotch closed his battered folder of notes and opened it back up again. It was almost compulsive at this point, repeating every twenty minutes and each time with the hope something new would catch his attention.

Hotch shifted, the bedsheets suddenly feeling unbearably scratchy and coarse even through his slacks. The case details buzzed around his head incessantly, distracting him from feeling the physical exhaustion and strain caused by the lack of proper sustenance and the stress of a day filled with dead ends.

The sudden ringing shattered the silence of the room, knocking him from his focus. He got up from the bed and warily walked over to the source, picking up the hotel phone and bringing it up to his ear.

“Hotchner,” he said out of habit, only to freeze as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in reaction to the sudden, heavy breathing. “Who is this?” he demanded, throwing the folder he was still holding back on the bed with dread rising within him.

“If you stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them.” His question about the caller’s identity went unanswered, though the cursed words of the contract spoken by the same distorted voice that was heard on the 911 calls from ten years ago was confirmation enough.

Anger flared inside him at the audacity, and he snapped back, “You think I’d take that?”

“It’s a good deal,” the Reaper replied flatly.

“I’ve misjudged you,” he said, some distant part of him wondering how Shaunessy felt when he himself got the offer ten years ago. “I thought you were smarter than this,” he was unable to help the derisive tone.

The silence was long enough for him to wonder how much he had caught him unawares with his response.

“You should take it.”

“And you’ve misjudged me.”

“This is your last chance,” he warned.

Hotch didn’t hesitate. “I don’t make deals. I’m the woman who hunts guys like you.” That got the reaction he was hoping for.

“There are no guys like me,” the killer growled, anger bleeding into his tone.

He scoffed. “You all think that.”

“You’ll regret this,” he warned.

It was said with such certainty that a chill shot down his spine, but it was overshadowed by his anger. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, promptly hanging up without another word. He walked back around the bed, feeling a sudden need to put as much distance between him and the phone as possible. It was with some hysterical hilarity that he wondered if the next people to stay in this room would know about what had just happened—that a serial killer tried to threaten an FBI agent into surrendering in this room.

Those feelings faded away when a terrible feeling suddenly came over Hotch as he realized the Reaper knew which hotel—which room—he was staying in.

It wasn’t unusual during their cases for an unsub to contact another person in the midst of their crimes, but the memories of Elle in the hospital bed and Morgan in the interrogation room had been seared into his brain.

Both times, unsubs directly went after members of the team.

Unable to remain in the room any longer, he went around unceremoniously throwing his things inside his bags before leaving the hotel room. Paranoia quickly crept back into his consciousness as he quickly made his way down to the parking garage with a hand near his gun, intent on heading straight to the field office.

Only half an hour later, Hotch was staring at the glinting gold ring on the bus driver’s hand, feeling oddly detached from the situation as he was confronted with the consequences of that cursed phone call.

“6 bodies, not including the driver,” Rossi said from the back of the bus. “He put them down with a gun—or, more likely, guns—and finished them off with his knife.”

The call had come straight to the field office, just minutes after Hotch walked into the empty conference room that the team had taken command of. A beat cop had heard a series of gunshots and went to investigate, only to see the macabre painting of blood on the side of the bus with its occupants slumped over inside, unmoving. “Arthur Lanessa’s wedding ring,” Hotch heard himself say for the other agent’s benefit.

“What’d he take?” Rossi made his way down to him in the front.

He snapped back into the present with a sudden surge of anger. “Does it matter?” he asked bitingly, turning and storming away from the crime scene for the relative privacy of a nearby alley.

“Hey,” Rossi called in worry, taken aback by the brash response. “What’s going on with you?”

Hotch stopped some way into the alley and took a deep breath, taking his time before turning to Rossi, who had followed closely behind. “He called me tonight at my hotel room and offered me the deal.”

“What did you say?”

“I hung up on him,” his eyes burned with the sting of tears—whether out of anger at the Reaper or himself, he wasn’t sure. “And then he does this.”

“So you think this is your fault?”

How could it be anything but? He looked away, trying to hide just how shaken he was. “It is.”

The familiar sound of the safety of a gun being released pulled his attention back to the man in front of him. “Well, here, use mine,” Rossi said, holding out his gun to him. “You convinced me. No, no, you hung up on him,” he pushed as he waved him off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You practically killed them yourself—”

You practically killed them yourself.

Killed them yourself.

Killed them.

Yourself.

You.

You did this.

You should have made the deal

Hotch flinched away from the touch of cold metal against his head only to freeze in his place, ice settling in his bones as he processed what was happening. Barely seeing the horror on Rossi’s face, he stared at the other man’s empty hand before he focused in on the gun that was resting against his own head, tilted at an angle. There were five things he knew:

I have a finger on the trigger.

My hand is trembling.

I am still one of the best shots of the agents that are not in a tactical team.

Make one move, fire the gun, only the hearing in my right ear will be gone and the darkness continues to creep towards me.

Make a different move, fire the gun, I’ll leave Jack the legacy of a coward and Haley the knowledge that her efforts back in high school and college were for naught.

You did this, a malicious voice in his head said, sounding oddly like his father. And suddenly, he recalled the memory of the blood droplets hitting him and the ringing in his ears the first time he witnessed a gun go off when he was nine.

Slowly, deliberately, Hotch met Rossi’s horrified and guilt-filled expression and lowered the gun from his head. Carefully measuring his steps, he moved forward and pressed the gun into the older agent’s hand, which dropped down to the side, the weight of the gun now accompanied by something unseen, something much heavier.

Not sparing him another glance, Hotch turned and walked back out of the alley.

This isn’t the time nor place to break.

But in the end, he didn’t have a choice.

“Foyet escaped.”

Hotch’s blood ran cold as he processed JJ’s words before he roughly placed his mug onto the desk and stood up from his chair, following JJ outside to the bullpen that was full of noise and movement.

“Guards found him in his cell vomiting blood and convulsing, they rushed him to the prison hospital,” JJ explained quickly as they made their way down the catwalk. Hotch twitched as he heard Rossi’s office door open behind him, the man coming out to see what the commotion was about.

“Get me the US Marshal’s Office,” Hotch ordered, making the executive decision to ignore the older agent in favor of getting down to business.

“I already called Don Reilly. I offered our assistance, he said they’d call us if they needed it.”

Prentiss rushed to the trio, holding a phone up to her ear. “The Boston field office just identified documents from Foyet’s house,” she reported.

Reid approached the agents gathered in the middle of the room, holding out a printout of what looked to be a set of blueprints. “They’re schematics for the electrical, heating, and water ducts of the East Woburn Correctional Facility.”

Hotch looked at him blankly. “He had the schematics.”

“And not just for Woburn—for every jail, prison, and courthouse in Massachusetts.”

“And ten years to plan,” Rossi added, a heavy silence following as everyone turned to the TV.

Finally, Garcia turned around. “They’re going to find him, right?” she asked worriedly.

Eyes still trained on Foyet's mugshot on the TV, Hotch was completely certain in his answer. “No, they’re not,” he said, just as the memory of Foyet’s words rose to the forefront of his mind, unbidden.

If you know me so well, how come so many had to die to bring you here?

I’m going to be more famous than you realize.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, trying to get a hold of the wave of nausea that suddenly overcame him. He brushed past the team, purposely heading out of the bullpen for one of the bathrooms that was further away for the sake of keeping the team and their concern off his back.

Within minutes he was throwing up bile and the small amount of alcohol he had drank back in his office into the sink, thanking the god he never believed in that the bathroom was rather secluded so there wouldn’t be anyone catching him in this moment of weakness. His eyes burned for the second time in less than twenty-four hours—only this time, a few traitorous tears managed to escape from underneath his eyelids.

The taste of bile was strong as he turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water, stiffening when he heard the door swing open and closed. Looking up to the mirror, he was both relieved and unsurprised to see Morgan locking the door behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding Rossi,” Morgan commented quietly. Hotch huffed a sardonic laugh, straightening up and turning around to face him, leaning against the sink for support. It was a familiar situation, one first started years ago when it was just them and Gideon, and stopped after the team started growing. Then New York happened and Hotch had to de-stress in a gas station they stopped at on the drive back to Quantico, and their secret rendezvous started happening again, when cases hit too close to home for either of them.

Somehow he always knows what the root problem is. “Was I that obvious?”

Morgan shook his head. “You know you hide it well. I’ve just known you far longer than any of the others, besides Rossi, of course.” He didn’t go on, waiting on the other to decide the direction the conversation would go.

Deciding to go for complete honesty, Hotch swallowed, tilting his head up and avoiding Morgan’s eyes. “He called me at my hotel room and offered me the deal.”

To his credit, Morgan only stepped closer, face creased in concern and a hint of knowing. “I said no, and he shot up a bus,” Hotch continued tonelessly. “I lost it in an alley near the crime scene. Dave had pulled out his gun and was trying to make a point about self-flagellation, but—” he cut himself off and shook his head frustratedly.

“I don’t know what happened. One moment I was just angry, and the next moment I was aiming a gun at my head,” he met Morgan’s eyes desperately, stern facade completely gone. “I don’t know what I wanted to do—I don’t,” his voice cracked as he sagged against the sink and his trembling became more pronounced. He quickly covered his mouth as a sob tried to escape his throat, prompting Morgan to move.

It was surprising to both him and Morgan how willingly he melted into Morgan’s body when the man reached out to stabilize him, but the sensation of the embrace was oddly calming for both of them. Neither spoke as they stood in the bathroom, not even as Morgan felt his shirt getting wet from the tears that Hotch finally let fall, and not even as the crying became more audible.

Now, they would stay in the bathroom and soak up the comfort that they offered each other. They would talk about Foyet’s taunts and what Hotch confessed later.

But later never came, because life never waits, and neither do unsubs.

Soon, they were racing against the clock as Reid got infected with an engineered strain of anthrax

Soon, they were investigating one of the worst, stomach-turning crimes they had seen.

When they got back from the pig farm, Hotch only asked the team for a bare-bones report of the investigation and let them leave to the comfort of their homes while he stayed behind and dealt with the rest of the paperwork and red tape that was involved because of their foray into Canadian jurisdiction.

It was past midnight when Hotch finally left the office and entered his apartment with the intent of pulling out a glass of scotch and staying on his couch with a book, knowing there was no way he was going to fall asleep that night.

But Foyet was waiting, and Hotch was weakened by the exhaustion and stress of two all-nighters in a row.

That night, as his team was sleeping in their beds, dead to the world while he was slowly bleeding out and floating in and out of consciousness in his own apartment, he could only take comfort in the fact that his death sealed Foyet’s fate. There was no way Morgan the team—hell, even Strauss, or anyone in the bureau—would stop hunting his killer to exact their revenge.

He faded into unconsciousness with the expectation that that was it.

He slowly regained consciousness to the sharp smell of antiseptic and the unpleasantly familiar beeping of a heart monitor. Fatigue settling heavily over his whole body was the next sensation that registered in his foggy mind, and then the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Where am I?” he forced out through a dry throat, eyes still closed.

“In the hospital,” Rossi, his mind told him. He opened his eyes only to close them again when he was met with blindingly bright lights, letting out a pained breath.

“How did I get here?”

“Foyet drove you.”

Morgan. He drew in a shaky breath as dull, pulsing pain finally made itself known through the painkillers.

“Can you remember what happened?”

That’s Prentiss.

He vaguely felt his head loll to the side before the memories rushed back into the forefront of his mind. Foyet’s words, the same exact words he remembered thinking back in that alley echoed unpleasantly,

You should have made the deal.

Hotch swallowed again and forced his eyes open through the heavy fatigue. “What did he take?” he asked quietly, unwilling to delve deep into what he remembered and deciding to mentally run through the details about the Reaper case instead.

“What do you mean?” Rossi asked, uncomprehending.

“The Reaper always takes something from his victims.” you’re one of his victims now—shut up and think about that later “Do we know what he took?”

“There was a page missing from your day planner,” his eyes flew open and he looked over at Prentiss as she continued talking, “in the address section, the Bs.”

No— “What did he leave?” Hotch asked, eyes slipping shut as a trickle of fear went down his spine and his brain screamed out in denial.

“I don't know,” Prentiss said, floundering.

“He also leaves something with his victims,” he trailed off in a breathless whisper, unable to sustain the volume he had been speaking at as the throbbing grew stronger.

“I looked over your whole apartment,” Prentiss told him helplessly. “Nothing felt out of place.”

A thought came to him. “Where are my clothes?” Hotch asked, slowly trying to force his eyes open again. He turned his head, watching Prentiss bring a plastic bag over to the hospital bed. Careful to avoid looking directly at his bloodied clothes, Hotch managed to pull the bulging manila envelope closer to him on his chest.

His hands froze as his credentials slipped out and he noticed a folded paper tucked inside. Slowly, shakily, Hotch pulled them out of the envelope and carefully flipped it open.

He sank deeper into the bed as the breath he had been holding was almost punched out of him by the sheer terror that pulsed through him, the treasured picture of Haley and Jack staring back at him tauntingly. That’s my blood, he thought blankly, staring at the red streak he knew was deliberately painted over his family’s smiling faces.

“Haley’s maiden name is Brooks,” he finally said, almost numb to the implications. “I always listed her in the Bs in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands.”

Some kind of precaution it turned out to be.

“He knows where they live.”

And that was that. As Hotch was stuck in flashbacks and lied to Prentiss about what happened, Morgan led the SWAT team in sweeping Hotch’s old house and picked Jack up from his playdate. As Hotch talked with Haley and failed to not think about that night in the alley with the cold metal against his head, Morgan played with Jack outside and failed to not think about Foyet using his credentials so he could continue to torture his friend boss. As Hotch remained confined to the hospital bed, Morgan watched through an upper-story window as Haley and Jack were driven off into the distance to a location unknown to anyone but a select few in the Marshals service.

Nine stab wounds, thirty minutes down time, and six days in the cursed hospital.

The numbers circled through Hotch’s mind when he stepped back into his apartment and had to work through the panic that rose within as he stared towards the place where he knew Foyet had been hiding.

In the end, what brought him back from the edge was when his eyes caught the new security panel that had been installed over where he knew the bullet had made a hole and the sticky note with what he recognized as Morgan’s handwriting that was stuck over it, concisely written instructions on how to use it. If he looked around carefully enough for other signs of Morgan’s presence, he could see where the section of bloodstained carpet had been replaced, and that was only because there was the tiniest spot that had been missed.

The tiniest reminder was enough to send Hotch into a panic, but he knew there was no way he could tell Morgan about it.

Is this what you felt like, Elle? Unsafe in your own home, having to sweep each room for fear of another one of the monsters we hunt lurking in the shadows?

Slowly, numbly, Hotch worked his way through medical leave and physiotherapy, during which everyone in his team came over at least twice, Prentiss and Morgan the most often to help change his bandages. He knew they worried, but he couldn’t summon the will to care nor the words to thank them for keeping him company and preventing the darkness in his mind from taking over.

And maybe it was a good thing, because there were things they didn’t know, things that he lied to them about. He lied and he lied, and he knew that if he had the words, they would all come tumbling out, and what little of himself that he had left would be exposed for all to see.

Even if Morgan had tried to take everything he might be able to use, there was still his mind, and so if he had the words, they would all know how many times he envisioned holding cold metal against his head just as he had back in that alley.

On the thirty-fifth day after he was discharged from the hospital, when they were discussing Darren Call on the plane, they came close to finding out.

So why hasn’t he killed himself yet? Sprees usually end in suicide. If he's got nothing to live for, why hasn't he ended it?

It was much later, after a day of being on the receiving end of careful, worried glances, and overhearing Morgan’s firm declaration from inside his office that he realized his slip.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch this man kill himself,” Hotch had heard Morgan snap towards Rossi. Moments later, Morgan passed in front of his office window and made eye contact with him, making it clear that his choice of words was deliberate.

Suddenly Hotch was back in the alleyway with the gun pressed to his head and managed to talk himself off the ledge he didn’t know he was standing on while Rossi stood there, frozen and horrified that his brazen attempt at making a point had backfired so disastrously. His own words on the plane came back to him, then thought about what others would have seen when he walked into that house unarmed, and he understood.

He hadn’t been thinking at all when he went in to try and talk Darren Call down, but though he didn’t have a background in psychology, there were some things that didn’t need expert opinion to be said, and so he knew exactly his action could be classified as.

Don’t lie to yourself, you know exactly what that was.

Hotch swallowed convulsively and broke eye contact with Morgan, turning back to stare at paperwork until the other man walked back to his desk in the empty bullpen. As much as he tried, he couldn’t forget Morgan’s impassioned exclamation nor the depth of the worry that was present in his eyes when they made eye contact through the window.

Maybe that was the day when things shifted. It wasn’t a complete change—the team still hovered around Hotch in uncertain worry, his thoughts never completely disappeared, and he nearly broke down in the bathroom the day Jack turned four in witness protection after seeing what footage of his child on a playground Garcia could enhance.

There was, however, a different air to his and Morgan’s interactions after that case. Perhaps it was a long time coming, stemming from the painful understanding that was formed that day in the secluded bathroom when they found comfort in each other.

It wasn’t news that the higher-ups were watching him again, but then he walked back to his office after helping JJ triage consult requests to see Strauss fixing him with a stern stare. The next few days he spent trying to work through the frustration of recording and justifying every decision while trying and failing not to antagonize Morgan. And so while he waited for Morgan to come into his office, he could only hope that he hadn’t managed to destroy the strange friendship that had been built between them based on their shared knowledge of just how close he was to the ledge sometimes.

I should give him more credit, I don’t know how he puts up with me sometimes, and he has more than enough reason to report me to Strauss.

“Come on, Hotch, nobody's gonna replace you,” Morgan said, incredulous at the notion of Hotch getting replaced. “Fight Strauss. I'll go to the mat for you, so will everybody else. You know that.”

“Morgan, it won't work,” Hotch spoke over him, trying to get him to understand. “Decisions like this have their own momentum. Unless I step down—”

“Step down? What are you talking about?”

A foreign feeling Hotch recognized with some surprise as amusement wriggled its way into his consciousness as he anticipated Morgan’s reaction to his coming announcement, “I'm resigning as unit chief at the end of the week”

“What? No!” Hotch couldn’t stop his mouth from twitching as his feeling of amusement grew slightly stronger at the visceral reaction. “Hotch, look, yeah, ok, sometimes your actions, I may disagree with them, but it's not enough for you to leave this team.”

“I'm not leaving the team, I'm just no longer in charge,” Hotch corrected, continuing before Morgan could get in a word. “You are.”

He watched as Morgan’s jaw dropped in shock, before finally asking, “Me?” Detecting no deception from Hotch who had nodded, he continued. “Look, I had the chance to be unit chief in New York, and I said no. I turned it down because I like this team. Strauss can't just fire you like this.”

“She can reassign me, and we can avoid that if I promote internally.”

Unable to come up with a counterargument, Morgan was silent for a moment. “This is wrong,” he finally said.

A strange thrill went through Hotch at the confidence Morgan had in him—their relationship, while slightly different now, ultimately had been built on unstated respect and the ease with which both were able to call each other out on their bullshit; it wasn’t built on such blatant declarations of trust and confidence. Hotch opened his hands, shrugging helplessly. “It's the only way to keep the team together.”

Morgan nodded consideringly before carefully eyeing Hotch. “So all of this,” he gestured between them, bringing up the tension that had built up between them in the last case, “this is why you've been pushing me so hard, huh?”

“I haven't been pushing you that hard,” Hotch denied, only to get a disbelieving look from the other man. He let out a faint smile before regarding the other with a serious look again. “Morgan, I need to know right now. Will you do this?”

He couldn’t articulate the relief he felt when Morgan finally agreed and continued to feel for the rest of the night as he introduced Morgan to the other parts of the job. Just like every other positive emotion he had felt over the past few years, however, it was short-lived, as Hotch had freed up time to dedicate to the hunt, even as he often stayed later to help Morgan get adjusted. Within months, they were called into a family annihilator case and Hotch was confronting Karl Arnold, one of the few unsubs that had continued to haunt him even after the case was closed and they were killed or incarcerated.

Of course, Arnold had to get in the last word, and oh, did he get it in.

The cursed eye of providence, now drawn over a newspaper article about the attack months ago, never failed to create a surge of anger and fear within him, but never had it created such a storm of emotions before now. One torturous night of waiting as the envelope the taunts were sent in went through the lab, and the whole team was in the throes of the hunt, and in the process, fell victim to tunnel vision.

What if they had slowed down and remembered that Foyet worked with computers? Would they have managed to catch him at the apartment unawares? Would they have been better prepared for what Foyet had planned to do?

But there wasn’t anything Hotch could do except try and talk Foyet out of going through with his plans while trying to maintain as level of a head as possible.

“Your mother tried to protect you from your father, but she wasn’t strong enough, and you hated her for that, didn’t you? So, you decided that all women were weak,” Hotch suddenly brought up, hoping to catch him off guard as he vaguely wondered if the team was on the line, listening.

“Those are your words, not mine,” came the grating, annoyingly blasé reply.

“What were you, nine when you killed them?

“It was a car accident. And, now that I think about it, our childhoods are eerily similar, don’t you think?”

Caught unawares, Hotch jerked the steering wheel, barely managing to avoid crashing the car as Foyet continued. “But it was only your father who died, whereas your mother remarried.”

How—? He turned cold at the show of Foyet’s obsession, which was clearly much deeper than he or anyone in the team could have predicted.

“No response?” the killer taunted.

“My father swallowed a bullet because he couldn’t live with his self loathing or the cancer,” Hotch finally snapped, quickly directing the subject back towards Foyet. Even with the pit in his stomach growing as it became clearer that he was being toyed with, he couldn’t help but use every negotiation tactic he knew and taught at the Academy, desperately but futilely trying to dissuade the killer.

“Haven't you gotten what you wanted?” Hotch tried, somehow having regained his composure after the unpleasant bombshell. “You've set yourself apart from anybody we've ever dealt with. You're not just a famous serial killer, you're the Reaper. We're going to study you and your methods for years and years.”

“You know what I've been thinking?” Foyet finally asked after a few moments of silence, his next words sending his heart pounding in fear. “Haley looks really good with dark hair. She’s lost some weight. Must be all the stress you caused her. Where's the little man?” No, don’t you dare— “Oh. There he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?”

Hotch gripped his phone tightly as he heard the ringing of another phone. “That's your wife. Hold, please—Mrs. Hotchner,” Foyet took on an accent, tone turning jovial. “Open the gate and I'll drive in.”

Open the gate? That son of a—of course.

“Aaron?” the malicious glee was back, cutting right to Hotch’s core. “I really gotta go.”

Almost frozen with fear, he pushed the car faster, heading straight towards the old house and praying to whatever deity he could think of that he could get there in time. He wasn’t sure how long had passed when he got Morgan’s call, which was confirmation that the team had indeed been listening. He didn’t dwell on it and only continued to push the car, disregarding speed limits and almost hysterically glad that it was the middle of the day and the streets were relatively empty.

When his phone rang, it was with numb, mechanical movements that he answered, fully prepared to beg and bargain for his family’s life if he had to, only to sharply inhale at Haley’s dearly missed voice, which turned shaky with fear when she realized the danger she was in. As Foyet undercut their exchange with his maliciously satisfied taunts, telling Haley all that he could never bring himself to confess about the case, Hotch could only think about how he was just too far away, Haley, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for lying to you about everything, I’ll never forgive myself—

But then Jack was on the phone, and the pure innocence and eagerness with which his son greeted him after months of no contact was enough to send a fresh wave of tears coursing down his face.

“Is George a bad guy?”

“Yes, he is,” Hotch answered, wanting to scream at him to just run away, get as far away from him as you can when an old memory was suddenly brought forth from his subconscious. “Jack, I need you on this case with me. Do you understand?” he tried to keep his voice steady, hoping with his whole being that his son would remember. “I need you to work the case with me.”

“Ok, Daddy.”

“Jack, hug your mom for me,” he requested, voice cracking and desperately trying to contain the sobs that were steadily building. He could only imagine the warmth his son was feeling from his mother now, potentially the last memory he would ever have of her. Hearing his son’s too-inquisitive question about his mother’s mood left him viciously biting down on his bottom lip, trying to maintain some modicum of control over himself.

“Is he gone?” Hotch finally asked, nausea joining the storm of emotions within him at the nickname Foyet had given his son.

“Yes,” Haley confirmed, letting her fear shine through now that Jack wasn’t there to see it.

Each shaking breath was a stab straight to his core.“You’re so strong, Haley, you’re stronger than I ever was.”

Her response nearly sent him shattering into the pieces she had so carefully helped him put back together back in high school after his stepfather died.

“You’ll hurry, right?”

I can’t lie, I’m so sorry, Haley. I can’t lie to you. Not after everything I’ve already done, “I know you didn’t sign on for this.”

“Neither did you.”

Why does it have to be now that we finally talk about what caused the divorce?

“I’m sorry for everything.”

There was a short pause as Haley inhaled sharply, before leveling out into shaky breaths. “Promise me that you will tell him how we met and how you used to make me laugh.”

No, please— “Haley,” Hotch trailed off, unable to continue and almost paralyzed at the knowledge that these might be her last words because he’s too far away, I’m not going to—

“He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron. He needs to believe in love, because it is the most important thing, but you need to show him. Promise me,” she ordered him forcefully.

“I promise.”

The sound of three gunshots tore straight into his soul.

And then he was finding Haley’s body, trying not to let the seams break when renewed rage roared to life within him at the extinguishing of the light that had been inside her and lit up every room she walked in. Minutes later, he was straddling the demon that had haunted him for over a decade, the demon that he finally caught up to but at a terrible cost and then he was punching—

I’m going to kill that bastard son of yours and I’m going to tell him it was all your fault—

and punching—

You practically killed them yourself—

and punching—

You should have made the deal—

someone yelled his name—

Promise me.

“—dead. He’s dead,” someone was shouting as Hotch tried to lunge forward away from the person pulling him back and towards the man who killed my wife HE KILLED HALEY—

But all the fight that had been inside him suddenly disappeared, and he was left staggering backward, mouth open in a silent, rage-filled scream as someone—it’s Derek—kept a careful grip on his body, holding his shattered pieces together just long enough for him to gather his tattered seams close to his chest and fling himself away towards the stairs.

Hotch collapsed to his knees in front of the chest, seeing no indication of any taunting messages and daring to hope that his son was—

And the sight of his son, unharmed and blinking at the sudden change in brightness, nearly sent him into a mess of relieved tears that were also tears of unadulterated grief because I got his mother killed—

He held himself together and lifted his son out of the chest, seeing all the features he got from Haley—her his hair, her his eyes, her his inquisitiveness—and struggling to maintain his weakening control as he told Jack to go to Ms. Jareau, who was waiting with open arms in the doorway to the room that had once been his office.

Hearing their footsteps fade away and shaking with suppressed sobs, he slowly stood up, injuries that he sustained in the fight finally making themselves known as he made his way across the hall to the room he knew Haley was lying in—

He saw Morgan taking her pulse and for a moment he couldn’t help but hope that she was still—

But Morgan was pulling back and he was gently placing Haley’s right arm back on the ground and he wasn’t yelling for medics and—

“I’m so sorry, Aaron,” Morgan said softly as Hotch knelt down, his trembling becoming more palpable by the moment.

If he looked past the unseeing eyes and the blood that pooled everywhere and her lying on the floor and—

He could almost convince himself that she was sleeping. For a moment, he was almost afraid to touch her, afraid to disturb her in her sleep, but in the next moment—

He was pulling her cooling body close to his chest and burying his face into the crook of her neck, gut wrenching sobs escaping his lips as a wave of grief shattered the flimsy show of control he had put up for Jack’s sake, his son who just lost his mother because his father was addicted to the chase and I broke my promise, Haley, I’m so sorry—

She’s gone.

The solemn silence weighed heavily on the team as they waited for Hotch to finish testifying before Strauss and the brass. They had all expressed their outrage when they got the orders to come in for their statements, only two days after their leader nearly lost everything, but there was nothing they could do.

It had been painful to watch the man who had been a protector for so long, since childhood through his teenage years and into adulthood, try to maintain the post, disregarding his own health in favor of being the earliest in the office and last to leave, spending every free moment trying to get rid of the threat to his family. It was worse having to listen over the phone as his control started to slip while he tried so desperately to save his family from a madman.

With the sight of him savagely beating Foyet’s dead body into the ground, all vestiges of the infamous controlled facade gone, they all hoped for Hotch’s sake that Jack had found safety and were beyond relieved to see him in JJ’s arms. Reality caught up to them, however, when they watched as Morgan had to physically wrestle Hotch away from Haley’s body so she could be transported to the ME’s office.

When they got the full autopsy, they could only be glad that Hotch wasn’t there to find out all that Foyet did to his first love.

And within a year, Hotch’s family had been ruthlessly snatched from his desperate, flailing grip and torn into broken pieces before being shoved back at him, misshapen with pieces missing.

The faint sound of a door swinging closed had them all straightening up in their seats, turning to look into the bullpen where Hotch was walking up the stairs in front of his office, only to freeze right in front of the door with his hand just in front of the door knob.

They watched worriedly as he let his outstretched hand fall back to his side and slowly backed up from the door, almost as if he were in a trance and startled when Morgan suddenly jumped up and ran out of the room and through the bullpen towards the man.

Their confusion cleared up when they realized that Hotch wasn’t stopping as he backed up, somehow unaware that the stairs were right behind him and stumbled, only barely catching himself on the railing. For Jack’s sake, they forced themselves to stay seated but watched out of the corner of their eyes as he tried to stand back up, only for his knees to buckle underneath him.

Before he could hit the ground, Morgan quickly grabbed onto his arms, almost collapsing himself under his dead weight but managing to lower them both onto the ground, holding onto him in a way eerily reminiscent of what he had done when he pulled Hotch off of the barely-recognizable body of George Foyet.

Hotch was still staring at his office door as if he had seen a ghost, and it was with heartbreak that Morgan realized what it represented to him—it was the source of so much passion and temptation that had gotten the love of his life killed. Looking back at the conference room and seeing the eyes focused on the two men, Morgan carefully pulled Hotch up from the ground and slowly guided him out of the bullpen, knowing that the team had Jack taken care of.

They walked through the winding hallways and into the bathroom that he followed Hotch into the night it all started to go horribly wrong. This time, it was different and yet the exact same, and after Morgan locked the door behind them, he pulled Hotch towards him, mindful of his bruised ribs.

Surrounded by the four walls that heard so many of their small talks and witnessed their vulnerabilities, it wasn’t long before Hotch’s eyes began to burn as he finally melted into Morgan’s protective hold when the dam finally broke, letting out a wave of pain and anguish that was only made the slightest bit more bearable by the warmth of Morgan’s his friend’s care.

But even that couldn’t make that one sentence disappear.

You practically killed them yourself.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hurting Hotch is so fun #aaron hotchner whump #hurt aaron hotchner #mortch #george foyet #haley hotchner #tw guns #tw suicidal ideation #tw suicide #tw character death #sodone one sentence

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