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#criminal minds crossover
dahliadew · 1 year
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Danny phantom wants a Netflix crime documentary (dp fanfic prompt)
Since the portal accident, Danny has felt listless and is uncertain about how he fits into the world. That is because it doesn't have the one thing every other ghost has in a Netflix crime documentary; even Johnny 13 has one. I mean, come on. And he understands that his case isn't the norm, but damn it, he still wants one. So after expressing himself to his friends, they and the rest of the town set out to make Danny the best damn documentary they can. Because at this point, the rest of the Amity is fully aware of the identity of there long time hero, and it's really the least they can do for him, expressly for all the help he's given to the town over the years…….. and for maybe sicking ghost hunters on him occasionally.
And so far, everything has been going great the town is creating its own mysterious ghost story with red herrings and suspects coming out from every corner. All played and created by the town's residents, and they've made this into a town-wide event encouraging all of the residents to participate. It's not often the town can hold events like this anyways, the last major event the town tried to hold was the Circus Gothica incident, and everyone knows how that ended up.
But everything so far has been going great filming is on schedule, all of the residents are seen to be enjoying themselves, and Danny finally looks content for the first time in a while. That is until people from out of town start to hear about the documentary being made and what it is about. That was a fourteen-year-old boy who vanished with little information on what happened. And they start to come into town to investigate themselves, thinking that because of the town's tourist trap reputation, they won't give the victim the respect he deserves or that the town and its residence may be involved in a cover-up.
And it's at this point where the story could remain stand along with new characters coming in or make it into a crossover with something like criminal minds or even the justice league and DCU, and I think either would work or be cool. Along with that, this might be fun to pair with the Danny phantom corpse au, where after the accident, Danny is left with his own body that he ends up burying or stashing somewhere within the town.
I also thought it might be funny that once the outsiders come to town and start their investigation, they begin to think they are being haunted by the murdered or missing kid because they keep seeing his ghost around town.
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med-ex · 6 months
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so i did a thing- introducing Spencer Reid Mojave Style™️
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soulless-bex · 6 months
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criminal mind x percy jackson au where spencer is a son of athena and went to new york to help with the titan war
spencer who also kept his distances with the greek world to focus on his career (not that constantly travelling from one side of the country to the other helps with that). wishes that the camp respected since he worked so hard to get where he’s at
spencer who only periodically got updates on how things were at camp. spencer who only learns about luke’s treason when he makes it to new york. spencer who has no time to process the grief of his relationship with luke before being thrown in a war, easily falling back into his demigod reflexes
spencer who, a few weeks later (he didn’t have it in him to leave before the shrouds were all burned), returns to his job on edge, the trauma and grief still fresh in his mind
spencer who forgets how to act like a mortal and attracts the concern of his team
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pjohoo-reclists · 8 months
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Percy Jackson Criminal AU Fic Recs
Request: Looking for Percy Jackson fanfiction with criminal AU and preferably Percabeth.
Here's a few. They're all crossovers, but I don't think you have to know the other fandom to enjoy and understand the fics. At least, I haven't seen Brooklyn Nine Nine TV but I still really enjoyed reading those crossovers. Posted 14/8/23. Enjoy!
act natural by maverickk
G | 900 words | Complete
Percy Jackson & Tony Stark
Crossover (Marvel), Interrogation, Percy Jackson is a little shit
Percy and Tony might be in a little bit of trouble.
i'm an atheist by maverickk
T | 1.6k | Complete
Percy Jackson, Nick Fury
Crossover (Marvel), Interrogation, Sarcastic Percy Jackson, Nick Fury just wants to do his job
Percy finds himself in an interrogation room, and his best bet is to talk his way out of trouble.
Missing, Presumed Dead by Deerlie_03
T | 5.7k | Complete
Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Crossover (Brooklyn Nine-Nine TV), Conspiracy Theories, Humor
Jake Peralta brings the teenager to the precinct on a day that should be like any other. Then he spends the next few years trying to unravel the mystery that is Perseus Jackson. Why exactly does the kid know so many missing people?
Now and Then by Deerlie_03
T | 9.8k+ | Ongoing as of 14/8/23
Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase
Crossover (Criminal Minds TV), POV Outsider, Aged Up Percy Jackson Characters, Future Fic
“Are we finally finding out about the new recruit?” Prentiss opened her mouth with every intent to continue but was suddenly cut short by a new voice. “Finally? Prentiss, have you been keeping me a secret?” “Nice to see you again, agent Jackson,” Ten years after "Lykaion" (part 1 of this series) Percy reunites with the BAU, this time as a new recruit to the team. This is the story of some of his first cases alongside them as well as the more important moments in-between.
Lykaion by Deerlie_03
T | 20k | Complete
Percy Jackson, Criminal Minds characters
Crossover (Criminal Minds TV), Outsider POV, Case fic
They were used to catching killers in the act, not listening to audiobooks and making strangely coloured cookies wearing gingham aprons but that hardly exonerated the kid. After all, there was a lot about him that just didn't sit right, that seemed far too close to the case to be a coincidence. In which Percy Jackson really isn't a serial killer, he just has terrible luck.
Long Forgotten Enemies by littlebear62007
Not Rated | 52k | Complete
Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase
Crossover (Criminal Minds TV), Murder Mystery, Police Officer Percy Jackson
The BAU is called in when teenagers across New York City are found dead and tortured. Joining the investigation late, after being held up by another case, the team is immediately overwhelmed by the unusual nature of the case. Both the families of the victims and the lead Detective Jackson seem to be hiding something. Why would these families keep critical information from federal agents just trying to find and rescue their children? Percy Jackson has been working for the NYPD, happy to live a normal life after years of war. When demigod children begin turning up dead throughout the city, Percy is torn between two worlds. How will he find the person responsible for killing his family while keeping their world a secret for both his fellow officers as well as government agents?
Heroes of the 99 by Dusana
G | 62k | Complete
Annabeth Chase & Jake Peralta, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase
Crossover (Brooklyn Nine-Nine TV), POV Outsider, Magic Revealed
After working with the squad of the 99 for almost a year, her colleagues start finding out that Annabeth Chase is more than an ultimate Detective (/Genius). One by one, they come face to face with the supernatural world their co-worker and friend grew up in. And just in time, because a new threat is looming in the distance...
The Wise Detective by Dusana
G | 79k | Complete
Annabeth Chase & Jake Peralta, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase
Crossover (Brooklyn Nine-Nine TV), Season/Series 07 Spoilers
A new Detective joins the squad of the 99th precinct. Her name is Annabeth Chase.
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anika-ann · 1 year
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Love on the Brain - part 9
Ch9: With Friends like These
Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 6400
Summary: After the successful rescue mission, you must deal with the aftermath – and with some unresolved matters. But you’re not alone and that’s the best and most important part.
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Series masterlist
Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing.
I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.
A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics
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"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart." — Eleanor Roosevelt
You startled awake with a gasp, hand flying up instinctively to your forehead; to your perfectly unharmed skull.
No blood. No holes.
Just a terrible dream; the image of a gun faded as you stared at the creamy walls of the hospital room with eyes wide open, a soft voice reaching your ears.
“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”
Your head snapped to side so quick you felt dizzy, steadied by a gentle touch on your arm. Achingly familiar pair of blue eyes watched you with concern and reassurance.
Steven Grant Rogers. Perfectly unharmed as well. Just sitting by your bedside like a dutiful guard, hand grounding you with its touch instead of holding a weapon to your head and aiming straight between your eyes.
Fuck, human mind was the scariest, craziest and most confusing place on Earth.
Sighing in relief, you ran your hands down your face, wincing at the pull at your arm, the splint on your left hand rough against your skin.
Of course Steve didn’t shoot you. Of course you were fine, even when in the med bay. But Christ, the dream felt painfully real when his cold eyes stared into yours, the grip on his weapon never wavering despite your pleas.
Steve didn’t rush you, allowing you to just breathe in and out, eyes closed, palms still sticking to your jaw. His thumb stroked your shoulder in soothing periodic motions, grounding you in reality, but otherwise he simply let you process. He didn’t say a word about the few hot tears rolling down your cheeks.
It was the lack of action that had you lower your hands at last, glancing at him again, a shy smile lifting the corners of your lips as he released you.
“Hi,” you pipped up.
He mirrored your smile, a tender barely-there thing, lips pressed together tight as you clumsily wiped at your damp cheeks.
Well, this is embarrassing.
“Hi yourself,” he echoed, head cocked to side slightly. “How are you feeling? …besides awful,” he added as if he realized the cliché of his question and the obvious answer.
It was endearing and entirely Steve and you couldn’t but snort at his attempt of a joke, your smile growing for a split second before it disappeared altogether.
“Stupid. Embarrassed.”
For not seeing the stalker for what she was from the start. For your very unsmooth awakening. For the faint memories of how you completely broke down after the team incapacitated Bonnie, babbling one thing over the other and- oh Christ, Bonnie. A shiver shook your body as the image of blood flashed in front of your eyes, the cold metal caressing your neck… at the way it swiftly moved away to find a new – the original – target.
“Glad it was just my arm. And that it was not--” you. You gulped, gaze falling to the floor as you took a deep breath before facing Steve again. The pity on his face hurt, but you knew he meant well. You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Can I, uhm, can I get some water? And a tissue?”
And a hug, maybe?
“Of course.”
Ever so helpful, he handed you tissues while he undid a bottle of water, unnervingly observant of your every move. It was almost as if he waiting for a you to break down entirely, the same way you had after getting shot and you supposed you couldn’t blame him. You just fucking hated that he had seen you like that, having those moments carved into his brain forever due to his eidetic memory.  Embarrassment consumed your whole being, burning hot in your gut. How pathetic you must have look back there?  
There was no mistaking his concern and attempts at supportive smile, but there was something in his expression you couldn’t decipher; you couldn’t bear not recognizing it. And you most definitely could not bear wondering whether that something had anything to do with the very intense conversation you had when he had been pressing against your gunshot wound.
You tried to sound as casual as possible when you gave the half-empty bottle back and spoke again; probably failing miserably, but avoiding the elephant in the room like a champ.
“Thanks. How’s everyone?”
The unreadable emotion in his eyes only deepened, much to your dismay; but then his features softened, causing your heart to flutter.
GG was now sitting at your bedside, familiar and safe. Your best friend. And more.
“They’re fine, Sparkles,” he assured you, reaching over to envelop your hand in his own, warm ones. “Little worried. Pretty angry neither of us figured it out until it was too late.”
Little worried.
Fear. The unfamiliar emotion on his face was fear he had tried to cover. Must have been, because it was in his voice now, laced with anger indeed. You turned your hand so you could squeeze his; this time to reassure him.
“But it wasn’t. Late, I mean. Not too late.”
“The fact that you are here begs to differ,” Steve opposed, one eyebrow rising in a mock challenge, voice heavy and serious.
You shook your head, your smile turning sardonic, ugly feeling settling in your stomach.
Kyle Meyers would beg to differ. The eyes, the accusing brown eyes, had screamed at you that he had wanted to live. A hospital, let alone Avengers’ fancy med bay, would have been a blessing for him.
But not everyone was blessed; not everyone had the privilege of having a guardian angel as capable as yours was.
“No, GG. Being here proves my point. I-- in cases like this? I could say I was extremely lucky,” you explained slowly, having Steve scoff and drop your hand as he looked away.
“Really doesn’t feel like it.”
“Doesn’t change the fact it’s true,” you whispered, suddenly feeling cold.
Probably because the comforter was a little thin.
In fact, the comforter thrown over you was the most interesting thing ever. The pattern was fascinating, truly, overlapping abstract shapes in faint blue, creating a surprisingly unobtrusive ‘A’ every now and then as they aligned; you had never noticed it before. The designer must have had a field day creating bedsheets for the Avengers. And when you brushed it with your fingertips, the pattern was rising slightly above the white cloth-
“Hey…” Steve murmured, so damn softly you couldn’t but look up at him. The sheer determination on his face was a funny contrast to his voice. “You’re safe. I promise. Stiles didn’t make it, but if she had, neither of us would let her see the light of the day ever again.”
You nodded on autopilot, your mind miles away, outside your control, as it moved from nowhere to your time in captivity and to the rescue.
You tried and failed not to think about the image of the pools of blood which seemed uncomfortably sharp in your mind: one at Bonnie’s leg, non-fatal, no doubt from someone from the BAU; the fatal one by her head from either Natasha or Clint. You held no judgement; each of your old and new team had their idea of ensuring you were safe and you’d stay eternally grateful to all of them.
But with blood came the fear; intense, all-consuming fear you felt when the gun dug deep into your neck, when it twitched away from it, ready to find a different target. The target.
You gulped, the smile on your lips tasting foreign as you fought to stay in the moment. Steve’s blatant ignorance of just how problematic their rescue was and the potential price he could pay just for being there helped you. Because between fear and gratitude, there was one more feeling clawing to the surface.
“I know you wouldn’t. Thank you. Thank you for coming for me…” you said sincerely, earning a nod and soft ‘of course’ and god, you could punch or kiss that stupid of course from his mouth. “Even if you were being stupidly reckless, again.”
Steve’s eyebrows jumped, shoulders squaring.
“Hotch said it was the best angle to-“
“Oh, I know,” you interrupted him impatiently, irritation spiking. “He wanted her thrown off balance, I would have decided to do the same, I think. It was an insane risk to take on its own, but fine. Whatever. But then you what, just decided to get rid of the only defence you had out of spite or-?”
“Hey now, you know that’s not true.”
“Oh, do I? Because from where I was standing it sure looked exactly like what was happening!” you shot back, having Steve grind his teeth.
“Where you were standing,” he parroted wryly, leaning forward, red rising to his cheeks, “was in a negative distance from a gun, aimed straight at one of the largest arteries in your body and at your spine. If I could have done anything to—if I pretended to believe you, I was hoping she’d-”
You sucked in a breath sharply, incredulous, blood pressure skyrocketing.
He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be that much of a reckless idiot, no, not this much, that was just impossible-
He was kidding you. He must have been.
“Oh dammit, Steve! Did you seriously let your guard down and left yourself completely exposed to modified bullets meant to kill you, because you were hoping?! One second, one fucking second and she would have shot you-!“
“It wasn’t me who was in the real danger there GODDAMNIT!” he exploded, fist hitting your mattress so hard the bedframe cried silently in protest.
It hit you like a sledgehammer.
Your breath hitched, but not in fear. You were startled by the outburst, shocked, sure, but not scared. The instant guilt painting Steve’s face, among the different emotions playing on his features, told you how sorry he was to lose his nerve and scare you.  
Yet he whispered a quiet apology too as you bit on your lip, his hands retreating back to his lap.
You watched him silently as he forced his clenched fists to relax; a movement deliberate and small, but it drew your eyes to the back of his hands for the first time since you had woken up and it had your mouth go dry.
His knuckles were bruised. Faint but angry red marks with the lightest touch of blue. He was freshly showered and sitting by your bedside when you woke up; for the bruising to linger so long despite the serum, he had had to beat a punching bag within an inch of his life earlier – probably tearing it in the process, again.
He must have been furious; and yet he sat there, ready to comfort you. A little outburst after you provoked him with your own was nothing to apologize for. The only thing to apologize for was him being reckless, albeit with the blessing from your former boss.
What made it worse, however, was that he had been reckless for you. His anger, his fear, the pain in his bones, his life on the line, all that was on you.
Steve was a big boy, able to do make his own choices, but it was the choices and faulty assumptions you had made that had led him to jump into danger head first again. Without a helmet, naturally, because why bother with protective gear, right? Dammit, GG.
“That’s… not entirely true,” you stated slowly, causing his head to snap to your face, ready to argue. “But I hear you. And I’m sorry. I know I should have seen it earlier, and I know you’re mad at me-“
“What? No. Sparkles, I’m not mad at you-“ he protested, but you ignored him, determined to say your piece, hating the tears stinging in your eyes again.
“And I’m mad at myself too. I was too stupid to see it for what it was, I know, but--- can I please get a hug anyway?”
His face twisted in exasperation, mouth open to say something, to oppose you, maybe to agree, maybe to finish what you had rudely interrupted, but then his shoulders sagged and he smiled a fraction; the hint of the perfect lopsided smile you loved.
“Always.”
You grinned through the welled-up tears, all troubles floating away as he leaned forward and you found yourself in his gentle arms, enclosing you in a vacuum of safety. He was uncharacteristically careful, mindful of your injuries, but his embrace was tighter than ever; you reciprocated the hug as much as you could, holding onto him like onto the lifeline he was.
Vainly trying to fully grasp the comfort he was offering from where he was still seated on the chair, you fidgeted; he released the firm grip on you until you tucked your face to the crook of his neck, allowing yourself a generous inhale. When you finally settled, he nuzzled your hair, achingly tender.
“God, Sparkles… what am I supposed to with you?” he sighed, one of his hands moving to cradle the back to your head to him, fingers gentle as they weaved their way into your hair. “You scared the hell out of me.”
That makes two of us.
“I’m sorry… and thank you.”
“For what? For being scared?” he huffed, bringing a smile to your face as the words echoed your own; and you responded just as he had.
“For being worried.”
He released a wavering breath.
The exchange, so remarkably similar to one you had before, brought you right back to the elevator, where he embraced you just as protectively, just as comfortingly and just as affectionately. Where his proximity had become too much, breaking the resolve not to give into your feelings.
Your memories of what happened after Bonnie drugged you should be hazy, but you did remember what you had said to Steve; very clearly in fact. There was no point in denying it; and you didn’t have the strength nor conviction to do so anymore either. Breathing in Steve’s cologne mingled with faint trace of sweat and something distinctively him, you nuzzled further into his neck, counted to three to gather courage and then briefly pressed your lips to his throat; tentative, but leaving no doubt you did so on purpose.
Steve’s arms tightened around you, the periodic motions of his chest ceasing for a moment, his heartbeat racing against your cheek. Then, his lips brushed against your scalp, his thumb petting the sensitive skin behind you ear.
Your heart hammered against your ribcage wild, sparkles of hope and giddiness lighting up in your brain.
This was definitely no friendly gesture; and what more, it was a seal of approval. The same approval, the same affection you had seen in his eyes, in his face, heard in his words, but had failed to decipher before; and had believed in at last, only to have your actions thwarted by an outside force… mostly by Jarvis.
But nothing was stopping you now – and you couldn’t wait another second. Not after you almost died. Not after he almost died. Not after two years of circling in his orbit, his gravity pulling you in with more and more force with each passing day.
“GG?” you muttered into the skin of his neck, having him draw back a bit, just enough to look at you, palm still cradling your jaw.
“Yeah?”
Your eyes roamed his face, the cheeks dusted with the faintest hints of pink. Alluring lips you wanted to taste for so long calling out for you, having you lick your own on instinct. The tiny motion didn’t escape his attention, his gaze flickering down before meeting yours again, pupils widening.
You weren’t sure who moved first, who leaned in; but at last, his lips were on yours, soft and careful as if you’d disappear if he pushed further just minutely.
Your head spun as his two-day stubble prickled against your sensitive skin, just as you had imagined it would; but he got your back and wouldn’t let you fall. Both of his hands now held your face firmly, yet with unmistakable tenderness.
He held you as if you were something precious, something he would never drop, but feared could slip from his fingers any minute. As if you would ever.  
Your hands came to life, reaching for his bicep and shoulder, as much as the splint on your hand allowed; it must have spurred him on, because his lips parted slightly, moulding into yours with intent, drawing a small whimper of bliss. You yielded to his gentle strength, revelling in his affection, fighting to stay without oxygen just a second longer now that you got to kiss him at last.
Now that you felt like you were home.
Whether it was the serum or some sixth sense of his, he released your lips just as you needed to breath in, but he didn’t go far; his lips were a whisper from yours, exchanging a few more pecks, your smile growing with each encounter, your heart singing when his thumbs stroked your cheeks, tucked unruly strands of hair behind your ear, nose caressing yours.
Steve practically smothered you with tender affection, overwhelming your body with love and delight. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you kissed his cheek and then rested your forehead against his, both of you smiling wide and basking in the glow of each other’s presence.
“God, GG, we should have done that ages ago,” you chuckled at last, not daring to raise your voice above a whisper as not to break the magic of the moment. Steve echoed your laugh faintly.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, caressing the length of your hair, his other hand never releasing your face. “Let’s do it again?”
Your thoughts exactly; you never heard a better idea in your life.
Damn, you truly loved this man.
“Great minds…”
His lips were back, but the caution was left behind. If the first kiss wordlessly marked you as precious to him, this kiss simply marked you as his and you sank into the sentiment with gusto, breath caught in your throat as your lips parted to accommodate him, your hands pulling at his shoulders despite the echo of pain in your arm.
A small grunt of protest to your mouth, contrasting sharply with the way his body leaned to yours, a shift of weight as one strong hand sneaked under the covers, under your knees, effortlessly lifting you just enough to make space for him on the edge of the bed.
He replied to the startled sound that left your lips with a smile with a cocky edge and a delicate sweep on your tongue that made your knees weak, your heart trembling; your body instinctively pressed to the firmness of his own, now so conveniently close.
It was everything. It was everything you could ever want, a breath of his name falling from your lips when he retreated for the briefest second only for his fingers to dug into your calf, palm burning against the thin fabric covering your flesh, sending tingly heat to your abdomen. A small whimper escaped you when his thumb pressed deeper, his smile, that damn smile, GG, you little loveable shit, making you forget your first kiss happened only about a minute ago.
He kissed you as if it was his only job to turn your brain into mush, to turn your body into something completely pliant to his touch and he was excellent at it.
“Well, you guys don’t play around,” Natasha’s voice commented dryly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you actually winced at the sudden intrusion, your eyes snapping open.
“Hello sailor,” Emily whistled as you licked your lips, gaze flickering to Steve who was still very much holding you ridiculously close and pressing his lips together as if he was holding back a laugh.
He didn’t look guilty one bit, which was fair; you could just keep kissing him for the rest of your life and you’d be perfectly content. But you would have been happier without the audience.
When you tried to scoot away from him, bewildered your face wasn’t on fire with how hot it suddenly felt, he only allowed you to stretch your legs, very reluctantly releasing his grip. He remained in your bed, however, taking your hand and interlacing your fingers together, not bothering to turn to the arrivals.
“I mean… we can come back later-“ Spencer said, almost shy despite the corners of his lips twitching. “We don’t want to interrupt your… your---uhm…”
Oh god, Spencer Reid, certified genius, was at loss of words because of you. This was bad.
“Smooching?” Emily suggested.
���Cannodling?” Natasha added helpfully, only to have Spence grin victoriously as he finally found the words after the longest time you had ever seen him speechless.
“…courtship display.”
“Oh my god, shush you all-“ you muttered as Steve silently snickered.
The sound was like a revelation; the spark of mischief and contentment was a confirmation.
Steve didn’t seem to mind one bit that you were walked on despite the faint colour in his cheeks whispering of a small portion of bashfulness and a wish to be left alone with you too.
Chances were that he was just as consumed by the kiss as you were, certainly, but he was a supersoldier as he loved to remind you whenever you worried about him. Which meant there was also a thick chance that he was at least distantly aware someone was coming.
What a luck it was that the group not only included Natasha, but also Emily and Hotch and, lord help you, Spence. You’d bet that if Steve hadn’t known for sure, he at least hoped your former best friend and crush would be there.
You were in love with a gentle gigantic little shit. And you adored him anyway.
You squinted at him, earning a charming smile – with the faintest apologetic edge. Oh yes, he had known.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Hotch commented matter-of-factly, not quite able to control the amused twitch of his lips.
Taking a deep breath as Steve had the decency to move back to his chair at least now when your former boss spoke – though he never let go of your hand – you nodded, eyes skimming all over the newcomers.
“Immensely. Thank you all for coming for me… and, you know, saving my life and all that jazz.”
It was easy to feel light despite the grave situation you had been in, now that you were in a circle of friends… and with Steve by your side. Here, now, the experience could barely touch you. And yet, something must have flickered in your expression, because Steve’s thumb swiped over the back of your hand, gentle and protective.
“You did good out there. You read her for long enough to hold on until we arrived and caught up instantly. You weren’t exactly a damsel in distress. You helped a lot,” Emily noted kindly, earning a smile that was somehow glued to your face ever since Steve kissed you.
“Uhm, I’m just glad it worked – that you guys worked it out.”
“It was a team effort,” Spencer shrugged, grinning from ear to ear, even as his eyes spoke of genuine relief.
“Oh, speaking of which…” Emily hummed nonchalantly, one corner of her lips lifting into a smirk. “There’s someone else who’d like to see that you’re okay.”
You frowned. The BAU team was in the room, Steve as well, even with Natasha; you assumed Clint might have already been gone back to his family even as you hadn’t had a chance to thank him yet, which left…
You grinned slyly, even if your heart felt strangely warm.
“Really? Are you trying to tell me Tony Stark was actually worried about me and came to the Avengers med bay...? Wow, I’m so honoured--- oh my god!”
You squealed, shooting up to sit the straightest possible, your mouth falling open in astonishment when the mysterious person walked in.
And then another one.
And another and then one more and yes, there were tears stinging in your eyes, which had Steve squeeze your hand and you loved, loved your GG, but holy shit you barely even cared at the moment.
“What the hell are you doing in a hospital bed, kid? I thought you were the agent, not the target!” the large man chuckled good-naturedly.
All you could do was to gape – still. “Morgan! I-- what-“
“I can’t believe neither of us visited when it’s only a three-hour train ride or a one-hour flight. Shame on us!” Garcia exclaimed, her bright blue dress with pink flowers only she could pull off lighting up the room, as did her wide smile.
“Aww, we didn’t mean to make you cry,” JJ cooed, grimacing so apologetically that you could tell she was not sorry at all, drawing a chuckle from you.
“Well did you expect, JJ?! When the whole band comes to see me even after I-” practically disappeared on you, you wanted to say as you failed to blink away your tears, but the last member of your former team didn’t give you the chance.
“-got shot? Twice the reason to fly in, kiddo, don’t you think?”
You sighed, not at all inclined to argue when you had them all here – a happy occasion.
“David Rossi. Wow. I… I cannot believe this, it’s so good to see you all.”
“Why don’t we give you guys some privacy? We could use a coffee, or a lunch, right, Steve?” Natasha asked pointedly, breaking your haze for a moment.
Steve shot the redhead a murderous glance – whether it was at the suggestion of him leaving or ratting him out, it was hard to say. You narrowed your eyes at him, too delighted at your visitors to be truly mad. And he must have sensed it, because he met your gaze, not expecting a hell fire… only a smoulder.
It was also very difficult to be mad at him when he had kissed you like that and his lips were still a little redder than usual, gloriously tempting.
“Did you sit here starving the whole time I was out?”
Steve shot Natasha a glare as if to say ‘See what you did?’ and sighed. “I was not and I was not starving-“
At that, you snorted.
“You’re saying that as if I didn’t know how much you normally eat, GG.”
He opened his mouth to protest; but a faint growl of his stomach rendered his upcoming argument useless. The others were polite enough not to mention it, but you could see a few of them holding back a smile.
And every single one of them watched your interaction with absolute glee and unabashed curiosity, which Steve promptly ignored, leaning closer to whisper only for your ears.
“You gonna be okay here?”
“As okay as I can get,” you assured him just as lowly, your smile growing. “And I promise to stay at my station as told, unlike someone.”
He glared at you for the briefest moment, unreadable; almost long enough for you to regret the jab, but then he shook his head, a smile passing his lips.
“Point taken… but remind me who walked out of the Tower alone and is now in a hospital bed?”
It was your turn to pause; you had to admit you deserved that, but you didn’t let your failure consume you as it had when you had been taken. You weren’t alone now. In fact, you had an army of friends to help you chase away gloomy thoughts.
“Point taken. Go grab a bite, GG.”
“As you wish,” he muttered, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth as a goodbye; a goodbye that almost made you want to tell him to stay.
But then your face began to burn once again as low ‘uuuh’ sounded from three of your former colleagues; Morgan, Garcia and Emily. The rest just smirked. You would swear you heard Natasha mutter ‘territorial ass’.
Why were you friends with these people again?
Steve squeezed your hand for one last time before he rose to his feet.
“It was nice meeting you. Heard a lot of great things,” he said politely as he nodded to each of the newcomers, addressing them by their name, earning a tiny squeal from Garcia when he did so.
“Likewise, Captain.”
A genuine smile curled Steve lips. “Thank you for your help, Miss Garcia. See you around, all.”
“Okay, okay, let’s just…” Natasha said as she pulled at Steve’s arm, chuckling as he exchanged a last glance with you, no doubt catching your silent thank you for making Penelope’s day. “Nice meeting y’all!”
The moment they were out of sight, you were crowded – and most of the crowd was your favourite technical analyst, who slapped your unharmed arm.
“How could you not let us know you’re dating Captain America?! If anything, I’d expect a call to brag about that!” she complained exasperatedly, her eyes shining brighter than the pink bow in her head.
“Technically, they only finally confessed their feelings about…” Reid interjected, looking at his watch pointedly, “…314 minutes ago.”
“It was very romantic and dramatic,” Emily pipped up, having Penelope’s jaw drop and JJ smirk, her arms crossing on her chest.
“And we hope to hear all about it, don’t we, Garcia?”
“Oh you betcha! All the details!”
You smiled at their antics, feeling giddy and flustered at once at the prospect of catching up with the best ladies in the world. And guys, of course, but you doubted they were as interested.
On a second thought however, Morgan was definitely one to learn as much as possible in order to gather ammo to tease you and Rossi, well, he might be a wise grown-up, but he wouldn’t turn down gossip.
And neither would you.  
“Only if you feed me the juiciest gossip from the bureau,” you negotiated, earning excited nods from Garcia. “Oh and please tell me you gave a lesson to another guy who impersonated an FBI agent to get laid?”
“You got yourself a deal, sweetie.”
“A sweet one,” Morgan commented, his grin slipping momentarily, replaced by a brotherly concerned gaze. “But seriously. What the hell happened? How did you end up being kidnapped and shot when you were the one calling about the case?”
You realized they must have just flied in, if no one brought them up to speed. With a sigh, you braced yourself to explain despite your error and the unpleasant memories being the last things you wanted to talk about.
But lord bless Emily Prentiss, it took her one glance at you to understand how you felt; she took it upon herself, swiftly and lowly explaining what had happened. Spence, ever so helpful, handed you the bottle of water from the nightstand along with a cup of jello, noticing you started to fidget with unease; a ghost of cuffs swirled around your wrist as seaweed, ready to pull you under water.
You absently thanked Spence as he helped you, a careful brush of fingers here and there far from accidental, meant to ground you in the moment.
“You’re welcome, Bean,” he whispered gently, causing you to crack a smile again. “Ah, there she is.”
You smiled a little wider, shaking your head, catching the last words of Emily’s report.
“I guess I was too close to the case to see it objectively,” you added with a sigh, causing everyone’s gaze return to you.
“I’d say,” Rossi agreed and you would have felt ashamed, especially in front of him, author extraordinaire, a legend among field agents, hadn’t it been for the compassionate smile and the warmth in his chocolate-coloured eyes. “But we’ve all been there.”
We all made mistakes, he was saying, as if reminding you that he wasn’t an exception to the rule either. And this time, the mistake didn’t have fatal consequences. You smiled at him shakily, earning a wink.
“Well, I’m glad it was just your thumb and your arm,” Morgan commented, a slight furrow to his brow – a sign of worry – his arms remaining crossed on his chest.  
“We all are,” JJ added. “We leave you alone for five minutes…”
“Yeah, don’t scare us like that again!” Garcia cried out, pouting – and then waving it off. “But now, let’s leave the gloom behind. Tell me about this huge dramatic love confession--- no, wait, start when the cupid’s arrow hit you for the first time.”
You chuckled, wondering what was there to even say, but Morgan beat you to it, snickering – and leaving the gloom behind indeed.
“Sounds like a euphemism to me, babygirl.”
Somehow, you were both insanely grateful and utterly horrified at the change of topic, despite warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of Steve – and the declaration you had exchanged a few minutes ago, involving mouths but not really words.
“Oooooh, they’re good at those!” Emily exclaimed, her face bright and full of mischief. “I mean…. was it when he shared his fries with you?”
Oh god-
“Get outta here,” Morgan burst out laughing, shooting Reid a pointed look. “You hear that, pretty boy?”
“Will you ever let me live that down?!” Reid cried out, voice an octave higher, gaping as Morgan once again brought up the one instance where Reid practically slapped your hand when you wanted to steal a fry from his plate. “Just so you know, when someone wants some fries, they can just order them.”
“Uh-huh-“
“But this phenomenon of stealing fries is not unusual and is more common in women, who don’t order the fries because they want to appear more attractive to a man by not eating excessively. And at the same time, they appeal to their masculine need to provide food for their partners and family-“
“See and you said it was just the papers who made a big deal out of it,” Emily interjected gently, a smirk to her lips as she watched you. “It actually was a great romantic gesture stemming from ancient male instincts…”
“Emily…” you warned her silently, only to be interrupted by Morgan.
“Oh, I think I’ve seen enough male instincts when Captain Loverboy kissed her to mark his territory before he left.”
“Not wrong there…” JJ sing-sang, having you groan and hide your face in your palms – a feat given your splinter – feeling your cheeks being set aflame with every word added to this ridiculous conversation.
You were sure poor Steve – who was definitely to be blamed for this, you hated him, you loved him – probably had his ears on fire with everyone talking about him.
“Please, you should have seen his face when Reid hugged her--- no, when he called her Bean. First time I actually saw someone physically turn green, I’m telling you.”
“Oh my god, you guys, just stop, please…” you whimpered miserably, only earning several chuckles and a tug at your sleeve.
“Aww, look at her, she’s all flustered-”
“Shut up, Morgan, I regret every time I didn’t take the chance to comment on your walk of shame-“ you muttered, annoyed… a little.
Despite all their teasing, it was difficult not to feel completely elated, because the reason this was happening was that fact you and Steve had-
“Rogers and Jones, sitting in the tree…”
“Oh, oh, Garcia, wait, he calls her Sparkles and she calls him GG-- whatever that means,” Emily stopped her, causing you to drop your hands and shoot her a betrayed glare. “So it’s more like: Sparkles and GG, sitting in a tree, K-I-”
“I’m happy to see you, guys, but I hate you all,” you announced flatly, instantly breaking character when most of them just burst out laughing.
“Oh hold on! Who’s gonna give him the if you break her heart I’ll break your nose talk?” JJ exclaimed suddenly, sounding deadly serious.
“No one!” you cried out instantly. “No one is going to break anything!”
But it was too late; the team of FBI agents, who acted like overgrown children, already started plotting.
Oh boy.
“You know I don’t exactly have the best record in hand-to-hand, but I know of at least fifteen different ways to dispose of a body without trace if-”
“Spence!” you shrieked, not expecting that from him in the slightest.
“I have no qualms about breaking his anything,” Derek announced, ignorant to your exasperation.
“Neither do I,” Emily shrugged.
“And rest assured he would never do as much as read his emails if I got my hands on him, Stark security system or not,” Garcia spoke, uncharacteristically scary. “I’d ruin him.”
“Guys, guys! Come on,” Emily shushed them, hands outstretched to get their attention. “I have no doubt we’d all shoot him dead, but who’s gonna do the honours or telling him that?”
“Hey! No one is shooting anyone! We literally just saved him-“
“Rock, paper, scissors?” Hotch suggested innocently, causing you to gape, a breathless accusation falling from your lips.
“Et tu, Brute?”
His words unleashed a stream of oooohs and hands that suddenly competed for the chance to threaten your… boyfriend, maybe? Just Steve for now? Your GG, always? Which was nice and all and you were so lucky to have them in your corner, but you had just averted one crisis and you’d rather keep Steve safe and sound. You doubted he planned to break your heart anyway – he could never.
“No one is listening to me…” you muttered, a chuckle sounding on your right.
You glanced at Rossi who didn’t participate in the mess unfolding by your bed, only watching with a proud smile.
“You know they won’t when it comes to protecting one of ours, kiddo. You’d do the same, because that’s what family does,” he said gently, looking around as some of your friends did bicker like siblings, before glancing back at you. “That’s what family’s for.”
With a sudden lump in your throat, you followed his gaze back, trailing around the crowded room: several special agents with one of the best trainings available, acting like children, paired up to play rock, paper, scissors. Sans Hotch, who might have suggested it, but would not actually go to Steve to give him a shovel talk; he appeared like a father to the crazy pack.
Looking around, you felt like family was exactly what you were. No matter the distance of two years and three-hour train ride, the BAU still was and hopefully would always remain your family.
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→ Next part (epilogue)
Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist
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Reminder: in the masterlist to this series, there’s a list with pics and characterisation of the complete BAU team (since I swarmed you with several ‘new’ characters in this chapter)
Yeah, I totally lied, the short excerpt I shared about three weeks ago was not from a floofy one-shot, but I could NOT exactly tell it was these two idiots FINALLY kissing, could I? Sorry 🤭
Wanted this to be a chapter slash epilogue, buuut it was getting too long again and I feel like this fic deserves a sweet and short goodbye instead🥰 Epilogue to come.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, folks, thank you for your support 💗
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Criminal Minds x Supernatural Crossover
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If you like Criminal Minds and/or Supernatural you might wanna check out my fanfic “When you‘re lost“ on Ao3!
Summary:
The Winchesters and Cas are called in by a local hunter to help with a case. Soon the BAU takes interest in the small town and their paths cross. Just what are the Winchesters supposed to do when they find out Agent Reid is actually their half brother and his team is coming dangerously close to them?
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bi-bard · 2 years
Text
Back-Up - Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner Imagine (Criminal Minds)
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Title: Back-Up
Pairing: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner X Platonic!Reader
Word Count: 1,202 words
Warning(s): mentions of abuse (mental, physical)
Summary: After a case gets over late, the B.A.U team is stuck in the town their case was in. When they go to grab dinner before heading to bed, a few familiar faces stumble into same restaurant. Luckily, they weren't going to go through it alone.
Author's Note: Y'all are dumb if you think I'll pass up the chance to roast the shit outta John Winchester. I'm pretty sure it's part of my brand now.
Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)
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The case wasn't a problem.
It had gone well.
I wasn't even upset about having to wait until the next morning to leave. The team decided that it was going to be a great idea to go get food that night.
I thought it was going to be great.
And then, my heart dropped.
I looked up from my menu to see three familiar faces walk in. Sam, Dean... and John.
I didn't mind seeing my brothers. The three of us still talked on a normal basis. Even after I left the life, Dean and I tried to call at least once a week.
But John. I hadn't seen or spoken to him in years. I never could bring myself to do it. I didn't think he deserved an ounce of my attention after how I was treated.
It was like the mere act of seeing him again made me freeze up. I let out a shaky breath and looked away, trying to focus on the menu again.
"What's wrong," Hotch mumbled to me.
I shook my head, "Nothing."
"(Y/n)-"
"My dad's here," I muttered, knowing that he wouldn't stop pushing. "And my brothers."
Hotch was the only one that knew all of the details about my childhood. Mostly because I had a negative reaction to something he did, and he wanted to know what to avoid. He thought it would allow me to work more efficiently. He was right. Of course, he was right.
"Really," he asked. I nodded.
I looked up again to see my dad walking over.
"Shit," I whispered.
"Hey, (Y/n)," he greeted. "Nice to see you again, kid."
"Hey," I replied, trying to play nice in front of the team.
I saw Dean and Sam behind him, both looking pissed that he had walked over.
"What's this then," he asked. "A replacement family?"
"Excuse me, sir," Gideon tried to speak up. "I don't know what you're-"
"I'm talking to my kid," John cut him off.
I grimaced and stood up. I grabbed my dad's arm and dragged him outside with me. Sam and Dean followed us. We ended up in a corner of the parking lot.
"What is wrong with you," I asked. "That's my team. My co-workers. If you wanted to talk to me, you could ask to talk. You had no right to-"
"Watch your mouth," he snapped.
"Excuse me," we all looked at Hotch. None of us had even noticed that he had gotten up to follow us. "I apologize for interrupting, but I won't let you talk to one of my agents like that."
I was shocked.
The last time I had someone stand up for me was Sam standing up to John years ago. He was already in his "rebellious phase" and argued with John every day no matter what. Hotch's bluntness caught me completely off-guard.
"I think you're overstepping," John said. "This is between my family. This is my kid."
"The kid that you just tried to humiliate."
John chuckled, "Do you have fun assuming you know everything about people's families?"
"It's to my knowledge that you raised your children as soldiers and then were shocked when two of them left and went no contact," Hotch said bluntly.
"We should go inside," I whispered as I walked over to my brothers.
"Why," Dean asked.
"Because you are not going to like what you are about to watch," I said.
"Where do you have the right to judge how my kids grew up," John stepped up to Hotch.
"When I watched how much it hurt one of my agents," Hotch replied.
"That's my kid-"
"Who had to use a fake last time on their badge."
"What?"
"Even then, the effects are still there," Hotch continued. "(Y/n) can't run from what you did to them."
"I suggest you step back-"
"Do you want to know how I know you mistreated your children? When I argued with (Y/n) for the first time, they didn't try to talk back. They looked down and sat silently."
I looked down. I felt Dean touch my back.
"They can't go anywhere without checking that there's no sign of a monster and won't go somewhere if there is a sign of one," Hotch just kept listing things. "I watched them drop everything during a case to check on their siblings because God knows you wouldn't check on your children. You're too focused on whatever the next monster is."
"Listen-"
"I'm talking," he held a hand up to shut my dad up. "They have nightmares on almost every case. Not just about monsters, but of you. They tried to give Reid make-shift stitches because you told them that was the right thing to do. They lack detrimental social skills. Their own father ran off without calling them for days- wait- weeks without picking up the phone and (Y/n) was barely surprised by it. They became unhealthily codependent on their brothers, who are still in that codependent dynamic. Once, Garcia hugged (Y/n) for no reason other than hugging them, and (Y/n) sobbed because they were convinced that they didn't deserve love unless they were useful."
"I get it," John cut him off.
"Oh, and the worst one, they flinch," Hotch said. All three of us stood up a little bit straighter. "No one can make any surprise motions toward (Y/n) because they will flinch away."
John clenched his jaw. He looked over at me. I shrunk away from him.
"Don't do that," Hotch stepped in front of John's line of sight. "Don't blame (Y/n) for what you did to them."
John let out a huff and started walking away, leaving the argument for another day. Sam and Dean both hesitantly went to follow him.
"Sam, Dean," the duo stopped and looked at my boss. "Why don't you join the team for dinner?"
They both seemed confused. I looked at Hotch. He grinned at me.
"It's on me," he added.
"Boys," none of us spared John a glance.
"We... We don't want to intrude," Sam explained.
"You wouldn't be," Hotch replied. "Come on. I'm sure you'd like to know more about what your sibling does for a living."
"Uh," the boys looked at each other for a moment before Dean spoke up. "Sure. Yeah."
I smiled at them.
"Boys!"
Sam and Dean ignored John's yelling and followed Hotch and me into the restaurant. The team was sitting awkwardly, watching the door.
"Is everything okay," Elle asked quietly as Sam and Dean pulled chairs up to the table.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Umm, everyone, this is Sam and Dean. They're my brothers."
They waved at the team.
"So, you've met Hotch," I explained, pointing at each member of the team. "That's Gideon, J.J., Morgan, Spencer, and Elle."
"Nice to meet you all," Sam said. Dean nodded in agreement.
The team did everything in their power to make the boys comfortable. It seemed to work for the most part. Sam talked about college and what he was going to do before being dragged into the family business. Dean actually talked a bit about why he stuck with my dad for so long.
It was nice.
It was like two worlds colliding. And I loved it.
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Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)
What I Write For
Some Original Characters
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Dance with me, Darlin’
Description; Beau Arlen x Reader - After a long case, Beau gets you to open up to him about what’s really been going on. 
Warning: Criminal Minds level Violence, mentions of death etc. 
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~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When you had first made it to Big Sky, it had been...a journey. Going from working as just a street cop in Ohio to heading back home to Virginia to work as a Homicide detective for a while, to then heading to work with the FBI in their Behavioural Analysis Unit for a while to just six months ago getting a call saying they had a more...calming job for you in Montana. Big Sky, to be more precise. 
But that was just the bigger journey of life. The car ride into Big Sky was also kinda hectic. 
You had hit multiple pieces of traffic along the way. You had dealt with at least two empty tanks - mostly because of the traffic. And then your car had finally broke down outside of a Private Investigator’s office. 
God, that felt like a life time ago. 
You, with annoyance clear in your aura, got out of the car. The door slammed a little too hard than you had wished it to behind you, but you couldn’t concentrate on that right now. 
At least your home that you were renting wasn’t that far. Maybe a 10 mintue walk?
“Screw you.”
“Is everything okay?”
You turned around to see a dark haired woman and a blonde one stood side by side, clearly just having come from the building in front of you. 
“Yeah.” The words came out as both relief and annoyance. “Just this stupid thing. I’ve got extra fuel in the back.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” 
You looked back to her from the trunk of your car. 
“I’m Cassie, by the way. This is Jenny.” You shook their hands.
“Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
The cloud of annoyance had now grown sparse, slowly developing into plain tiredness as you flipped the cap off the fuel tank. 
“Yeah,” you sighed. “like I said; this stupid thing. Traffic all the way coming up here...it’s a freaking nightmare.”
“Where are you travelling from?” Jenny asked. 
“Uh...Virginia.” you answered. But it wouldn’t have really mattered what you had said since she was round the front of your car checking out your plates. 
To be honest, you couldn’t blame her. Some wild stranger breaks down in front of your building? You’d be curious and cautious, too. 
“I’m...uh...I’m meant to be starting a new job in-” you checked your watch. Oh, crap. “In a couple of hours.”
“Where are you starting?”
“Police department.” you answered, chucking the closed and empty fuel container back into the trunk and closing the top. 
“Oh, I’m deputy Sheriff.” Jenny answered. 
“Jenny...Hoyt.” you then looked up to the building sign. Dewell and Hoyt. “God, I-I should have made the connection. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” she smiled. “It’s been a long drive.”
“About four days.” you added. “I don’t fly. I know it’s easier but...I don’t like it.”
“You’re scared of flying?”
“Maybe a little.” 
Even the conversation about planes made you on edge. 
“Well, you’re lucky. Most things you’ll need are within driving distance.”
You smiled. “Great.”
“I’m just about to head to the station. You can follow me up. They’re doing something on the main road so you’ll have to take the back ones.”
“Okay.” you answered. “Well, it was nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Cassie smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see one another again, soon.”
“Probably.” you agreed. 
You’d heard a couple of stories about Jenny and Cassie in the last couple of months before you made the transfer. All good. Mostly badass. 
“You’ll get to meet our Sheriff but I have to warn you, he’s a chatty one.”
You smiled. “Kinda gathered.” You had been on the phone twice in total with Sheriff Beau Arlen. Both were pleasent experiences. He seemed liked a good man, and a good Sheriff. You explained all of this to Jenny and Cassie. 
By the time you had made it to the Police Department you had already fallen in love with Deputy Poppernak. He was a nice change from the seriously-stern-oak-tree-shoved-up-their-asses cops you’d dealt with in your time. Most of them believed they were Agents at the FBI and had the same power as judges in court. 
And it was nice to have a Sheriff who clearly understood his job but still managed to find the light in certain situations. 
Working with the BAU and as a cop had shown you how terrible some of them could be at their jobs. How they didn’t actually want the job or how they only took it so they could seem powerful compared to everyone else. 
It wasn’t long before you began to feel like you fitted in, in Big Sky. 
Whenever you had time, you’d go and hang out with Jenny and Cassie at the Boot Heel - Beau joining 80% of the time. Or you were with Denise in Dewell and Hoyt. She’d tell you all the gossip that was going on in town over a lasanga or tacos. And then, if you weren’t at home on your own, you’d be with Popp in the Police Department. He’d tell you all about his family and fishing whenever you both had to go through boring paperwork. 
But that wasn’t to say you’d all had your fair share of dangerous situation. 
There had been a couple of cases from three homicides to kidnappings. Your expertise in Behavioural Analysis came in handy on most cases. It gave the department an opportunity to see the crime from another point of view. One they hadn’t fully had before. 
But, in recent weeks one case had been getting to you. And that was something they all could see. 
From the moment the case came in, your blood had frozen over. It felt all too similar. All too familiar. And when Beau had to pull an old file - a file you had seen too many times to count - that was when the shift fully set in. 
Three girls dead. Three more taken in the space of a few weeks. And one of those three died in a ‘fire’ the night before. 
For weeks, you worked day and night with the rest of the team. At first, you did everything in your power to avoid the topic. To avoid the case. But you couldn’t. 
And that had all come to a head just a few hours ago. 
Finally! Freaking finally! He’d been outsmarted. Cornered. 
But you were the only one there. 
And you froze. 
All those years. All those nightmares. They all came down to this man. This sick, twisted, vile man. 
His voice just echoed in your ears, over and over as he moved around the empty room, going unnoticed. You didn’t know what to do, where to point your gun? As much as you had him trapped, he had you in just the same position. 
“Do they know?” he’d asked you. “Do they know that you think of me?”
Your blood was rushing faster, and faster, and faster. Until finally...Jenny rushed inside. He came out of hiding. And you shot. But not before he shot first. 
He couldn’t fully see where to point, but he got you anyway. Just a graze. But he still got you.
Jenny had stopped dead in her tracks looking between the body on the floor and you. She could see the look in your eyes. The same look she’d seen every time they discussed the case. Only, now it was more clear. 
It was a look of fear, panic and anger. 
“It’s over.” was all you said as she slowly took your gun from your hands which still had it pointing up - but you were slowly lowering it. And, eventually, you managed to make eye contact with her when she placed a hand on your shoulder, too. “It’s finally over.”
Jenny nodded. “It is.” before she looked to the door and saw Beau. He’d checked the man’s pulse. Gone. Forever. 
“Hoyt!” Popp called from behind them. 
“Is okay,” Beau reassured Jenny as he placed a hand on your other shoulder and arm. “I’ve got her.”
Jenny nodded before rushing to find Poppernak. 
“Come on, let’s find a medic.”
You hadn’t spoke a word after that. 
Beau led you outside to a medic, standing to the side a little so he could watch them patch you up. You’d live. It might hurt for a few days, but you’d be okay. 
And now, you sat in a booth at the Boot Heel. 
You would have probably been sat either in Dewell and Hoyt or at home, alone. But Beau had dragged you out to go with him, Jenny and Cassie to the bar. Clearly, this case was more than just a case. And he needed to know why. 
“Hey,” Beau knocked your leg with his foot gently under the table. You were sat with one leg and arm up on the back of the booth, your back leaning against the wall as you watched the others in the bar dance to the band. “Talk to me.”
You pulled yourself from your thoughts and looked at him, taking hold of the cold beer beside you. 
“What?”
“This case.” Beau stated. “Clearly it meant something to you. I tried to check your records with it and it’s all blacked out. And I want answers. I need answers.”
You sighed. You were going to have to tell them at some point. You had hoped you’d never have to speak of it again. You had a pscheval that cleared you. You had medical exams that cleared you. You were capable of working the case. You had worked the case. But that didn’t stop the reality of something this big hitting you. 
“It’s just me and you, Darlin’.” 
That was true. 
Cassie and Jenny were at the bar being chatted up by two guys. 
Beau let you take a moment. You shifted your bullet-grazed arm from the back of the booth chair and place your other leg on the ground before finding the courage - all while scratching the label from your beer bottle - to look at him. 
You took a deep breath and slowly began to explain. 
“It was back when I worked Homicide.” 
“Okay,”
“I was going from case to case. Most offenders left so much DNA behind we caught them soon enough. But then this once case came in. A young girl. 15. Missing. I didn’t worked missing person’s cases but it had made it’s way through to me. She’d been missing for a month an she matched a Jane Doe I had come across about a week earlier. No DNA. No evidence. No nothing. Until one of my deputies came through with a patern. It was our guy. Countless of women across the city. In my part of town, it had only been two women but across Virginia? Maybe 15? Anyway, the case went cold but I kept it open. But then I got the call to join the BAU. I took it but the case stayed with me and then one day...another girl came through. And another. And another. He was esculating. And we thought we had caught the guy - turns out it wasn’t him.”
“How’d you know?”
“I got a package in the mail the next morning.” you answered. It was like it was just yesterday. “A photo, a note and a piece of burnt flesh. Hers. He’d got another girl. We found her two days later. For months we worked on the case and each time we came close but he knew.” You gave a small laugh, an angle of your head and a scratch of the label again. “He always knew. Always just one step ahead of us.”
You paused for a short moment, trying to put your emotions on hold for the next few moments. But Beau just waited. 
“Anyway,” you could feel your nerves starting to get to you now. “The case had gone cold. Again. Until I got home after a case in Florida. Everything was normal. I thought I was safe.”
This wasn’t good. 
“Until I was stood in my kitchen and was taken from behind. We faught. I managed to grab a kitchen knife and stab him but he found my gun hidden under my kitchen island while I was away. Shot be twice before using my blood to write on the floor beside me. You’ll never catch me. I’ll always be with you. That’s what he wrote. I was in the hospital for a few weeks. But when I went back...it wasn’t the same. One of my teammates, Emily...she’d gone back to my house to try and scrub away the blood but it was like I could still see it. Like I could still see my blood around me and on me. Then, after a few months, I got the call from the Director about a slightly calmer job. They knew I wouldn’t stop working so maybe a calmer situation was best.” You looked back to Beau, a small smile on your face. “And then you called. And I took the job and...now we’re here.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You looked down for a moment and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t be. I had - well, the Director and I had one of the tech analyisists black out my file. Garcia - even she couldn’t get into it. The team knew most of what had happened to be but some things I wanted to keep to myself.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”
“I didn’t want to go back.” you answered honestly. “I have enough flashbacks as it is. And my team back in Quantico...they all knew and I could see that look in their eyes. That look that was watching my every move, just waiting for me to explode or crumble. I love them, but I couldn’t take it. And I can’t take it from any of you, either.”
“Well...” Beau made sure you were looking at him. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
You nodded with a weak smile on you face. “I know.”
A few minutes of silence passed between you two. Cassie and Jenny were still busy at the bar and the band was still playing. You were watching people dance on the wooden floors and, as Beau turned back to look at you, he got an idea. 
Shifting from his side of the booth, he finished his ceer and held his hand out.
“Come on.”
You looked to him with a small laugh. “What?”
“We’re dancing.” he told you. “Come on.”
“Beau...”
He held out his hand, that look in his eye. He wasn’t letting an opportunity like this pass. 
“Dance with me, Darlin’.”
You looked to the crowd with a small scoff - was he really asking you to dance? 
“But I don’t know how.”
He gave a small shrug and pout. “We’ll learn together.”
It took a moment, but you agreed and he took your hand, pulling you up and towards the dance floor. 
“Like this?” You placed your hand in his and your other on his arm.
Beau nodded, then placing his hand on your waist to pull you a little closer and you both, slightly awkwardly but still comfortable, danced. 
He spun you out before pulling you back in and before you knew it, the awkwardness was gone and replaced with smiling faces and laughter. 
Meanwhile, back at the bar Jenny handed Cassie a 10 dollar note. 
“What-?”
“Look.”
On the dance floor, yourself and Beau were now in a slightly slower dance. Close. Intimate. Or close to it, anyway. Either way, Jenny knew she’d lost. 
Cassie smiled widely. “Ah-ha. I knew it.”
“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you like.” Jenny took a sip of her beer. 
“Before you know it, they’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde but on the good side of the law.”
Jenny pointed to Cassie as she swallowed her beer. “I am not betting you on that.”
“Ten bucks it’s in the next two years.”
Jenny grumbled. “Fine. But this time I am having Denise take note because I’m still sure I won the bet about those two becoming friends.”
“Hell no, I won that one.”
“Whatever you say.” Jenny answered before they both looked back to Beau and yourself. 
“They look happy, don’t they?”
“Yeah,” Jenny smiled. “They do.”
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writethrough · 1 year
Note
Hi, how are you. Can I request a Malcolm Bright imagine. Reader is kinda like a female Sherlock Holmes or an member of behavioral analysis unit from criminal minds…… Angst to fluff….
thank you
Little Parts
(Malcolm Bright x Female Reader)
Warnings: Mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse, death, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)
Word Count: 3315
A/N: Thank you for this request! I chose to go the BAU route. Though I didn't necessarily mention Criminal Minds, I do use the lingo. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I definitely did not expect my OC Nancy to have as big of a presence as she does. I do think I need to work on my angst. I love reading it, but writing it is a different story. I hope you enjoy it!
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Nancy Whitmore had murdered six people: five women and the husband who came home early and found his wife mid-abduction. Two shots to the chest, the first time Nancy ever used the gun she held to force the women to come with her.
Those two gunshots were what started this all. Nancy had panicked and fled with the wife, not worrying about the scene she left behind.
When the NYPD connected this to the other missing women, they called you. As skillful as Gil and his team were, your expertise would be invaluable.
And it was. So invaluable, in fact, that Nancy Whitmore knew she had to do something.
The bullpen was abuzz with every available person preparing for tonight. Nancy had escalated since word got out that a profiler had joined the investigation. And if you were right, there would be another victim before midnight. You had to get her before then.
“We know she stays within this area,” Gil said, tapping a marker in the circle he drew. “And we’ve released a statement telling everyone to stay indoors when it’s dark.”
“Staying home isn’t going to prevent our unsub from kidnapping who she wants,” you said. “We’ve seen her murder outside of her preference when cornered. I doubt that’s changed.”
“Everyone else is just a means to an end,” Malcolm said.
You nodded.
It hadn’t taken long for you to figure out these women represented Nancy’s mother. From what you gathered, Mrs. Whitmore ruled her household with an iron fist. No one, her husband or her children, was safe from the abuse she inflicted.
Nancy’s father protected Nancy from his wife, but once he died, Nancy had to step up and protect her younger brother. The brother's death at the tragic age of twenty-five was the catalyst for all of Nancy’s crimes.
“As long as Nancy feels the need to protect others from her mother, it doesn’t matter who gets in her way. Nothing's going to stop her from reaching that goal,” you said, rubbing your temple.
“What I don’t understand is how she can’t remember that her mother is dead.” JT’s frustration was evident.
“She’s blocked so much out. Her brother’s passing triggered her, and the only explanation she could come up with was that her mother murdered him,” you explained. Nancy’s brother died in a freak accident at his job. A cable snapped at the construction zone, and that’s all it took for his life to be taken. Nancy’s trauma filled in the blanks and then some. She thought her mother had returned or that she didn't actually die, and Nancy had to do the one thing she’s been doing since she was thirteen—survive.
“We need to figure out where she is. We have patrol cars at every address of hers, but not one of them has seen her.” Gil dragged both hands down his face.
“It’s getting late. What if Nancy already has her next victim?” Dani asked.
“It’s possible,” you said. “But even with Nancy's escalations, she follows a pattern. She grabs them once it’s dark, not before, and she keeps them alive for three days. She has to follow that.”
“I hate to say this, but if worse comes to worst, we have seventy-two hours to find her and the vic,” JT said.
You nodded, stifling a yawn.
Gil gave you an empathetic look. “I know we still have a ways to go, but none of us will be any help if we don’t get some sleep.” He paused, scanning the four of you. “We’ll take shifts. Some of us should be here if anything happens.”
“I’ll stay,” Malcolm said.
You weren’t surprised. It didn’t take a profiler to know Malcolm Bright was an insomniac.
“Me too,” Dani said. “Go tuck your kid in.” She nodded to JT, who gave her a grateful smile.
“Alright, you two, go home. I’ll call you if we hear anything.” Gil gestured for you to leave.
You were about to protest when Malcolm cut in.
“We’ll be fine.” He leveled you with a look. “You’ve been going since you landed two weeks ago. A few hours of rest will only help us catch our suspect sooner.”
You sighed, knowing he and Gil were right.
“Fine,” you said. The clock read 8 PM. “But I’ll be back here by midnight.”
A bit more than three hours should be a good enough power nap.
Malcolm gave you a gentle smile. “Wouldn’t have expected anything different.”
You and Malcolm had taken to each other like fish to water.
You had arrived at the crime scene and met everyone except Malcolm, who had been running late.
Edrisa had finished her preliminary evaluation when he walked up to you, speaking to anyone who would listen about his theory on how the vic ended up here. Every part was pretty plausible, but one.
“Everything about our killer is tactful. She doesn’t let her anger get the best of her because she can’t afford to. There’s more at stake for her,” you said.
It was like you pulled him back to reality. His brow furrowed, and he finally registered that you were new.
“She?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Like I said, I don’t see anger when I look at this woman’s wounds. I don’t even see pleasure. How many male serial killers do you know that you can say that about?”
Malcolm couldn’t help but think about his father. The person who took more pleasure in his work than anyone he knew.
“SSA (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand.
He gave you his name. You didn’t bat an eye. It made him think—hope—you had no idea who he was. It was a day later that hope came crashing down.
“You know who my father is?” His eyes widened, a pang resounding in his heart.
You shrugged. “Course I do. Did you really think I wouldn’t read up on the team I’d be consulting with?”
“Well, no. I just thought maybe you’d focus on the case more.” Malcolm couldn’t look you in the eyes. And your heart went out to him. He’d probably been judged by his father’s actions his entire life.
“We’re not our parents, Malcolm,” you said gently. “If we were, I’d be a cheating accountant or a bitter middle school teacher.”
“Those are two very different professions from dear-old Dad,” he said.
“Yeah, they are, but the point is everyone has a shitty little part of themselves that they keep hidden. And some of us do a better job than others.”
“And what shitty little part are you hiding?” He tried to disguise it as a joke. However, he also desperately wanted to know the truth. He wanted to know if maybe, just maybe, you were a little like him.
A smirk tugged at your lips. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
The taxi to Dani’s apartment dropped you off a block away. Traffic in the city was no joke, and you weren’t about to pay to sit in line for who knows how long.
You and Dani had attended the academy together. When she found out you’d be consulting with them, she offered you a place to stay. The problem was she only had one key, and you’d typically carpool to and from the precinct.
Pulling out your phone, you clicked on her number.
“Everything okay?” She greeted you, concerned.
“Yeah, but I may have to pick the lock to your door,” you said, trying to remember if you had a bobby pin in your bag.
“Shit. I completely forgot.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve kinda been focusing on more important things,” you said. 
“I can run it over to you. We haven’t gotten any calls yet, and it’s not like my place is far,” she said.
“That’d be great. It’s been a minute since I had to break in somewhere,” you joked.
“Okay, I’m on my way.” Her voice sounded like she was facing the other direction, but you still caught it. “Everything’s fine. She forgot to take my key.”
There was a brief silence as whoever responded, and then she was back.
“Your boyfriend’s concern is touching, but you should tell him to cool it.”
You narrowed your eyes. “My boyfriend?”
“Malcolm.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing.
Unconsciously, you caught the steps of someone jogging behind you and moved to the right out of their way.
“Malcolm and I are just friends,” you said, thankful to be alone as heat surfaced to your cheeks.
“Yeah, and what about the dumb smiles and little glances you give each other,” Dani asked. You could hear her smirk through the phone.
“I don’t give him dumb smi—”
The unmistakable crack of metal hitting something bounced through Dani’s head as she rushed back to the precinct. Everyone had returned and convened in the conference room after she had called them.
Malcolm paced as he ran through everything they knew about Nancy.
She abducts women from their homes, taking them away from the place they have power. Three days later, the women are found beside dumpsters, handcuffed. It was Nancy’s way of handing over her mother to the police. Deep down, she believed she was helping.
Malcolm shook his head. That didn’t make sense for you. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you. The only hope Malcolm had was where you were abducted outside of Dani’s apartment—outside of your temporary home.
The clock was ticking, except they didn’t know how long the timer was set for.
They had to find you.
Malcolm had to find you.
Nancy paced in front of you. She hadn’t said a word. You weren’t entirely sure she knew you were awake.
By the looks of the beams of light pouring through the slats of wood, it was early morning. You’d been out for a few hours. Hopefully, the team had a decent start on finding you.
Your arms were cuffed behind your back, and the metal chair you sat on dug into your biceps. Nancy had even tied your ankles to the legs.
You had to find a way out. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you—to you or to a potential victim.
She was unraveling, and you had to make it seem like you understood her. You had to stay calm. She had to think you were on her side. If at any point she felt threatened, you’d be done.
“Why did you have to get in the way?” She mumbled it as if to herself, then repeated it louder, frustration baring her teeth.
“I was asked to,” you said, trying to make yourself smaller.
She had to believe she was in control.
She rubbed her face roughly. “You could’ve said no. You should’ve stayed away! But you had to stick your nose into family business! She’s gonna hurt someone because of you!”
Angry tears lined her eyes. You made sure to look down in shame. You had to make her think you were submitting.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you whispered.
She stepped closer until you could smell her breath.
“I don’t believe you.”
You didn’t see her raise her hand, but you felt the searing heat of the bullet rip through you.
“What if she’s already dead, Gil!” Malcolm asked, staring at the man, willing him to see that they had to find you.
“You know you can’t think like that,” Gil responded. “(Y/N) is a seasoned agent. She’s been trained for this. You need to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”
“It’s not (Y/N) that I don’t trust. Nancy has deviated so far from her usual targets. There’s no telling what she’s done or will do to her.”
“Fine. You’re right, but panicking won't help (Y/N). You need to take a deep breath and work this case with the rest of us. Got it?” Gil was leaning forward, hands on his desk and eyes pleading with Malcolm.
He’d finally nodded after exhaling loudly through his nose.
“Good. Now tell me why Nancy is doing all this," Gil said slowly, urging Malcolm to do what he did best.
The pain in your shoulder made it harder to concentrate.
You weren’t sure if she meant to hit you there, and that thought didn’t comfort you. Nancy was spiraling, making your stomach churn at the possibility of not getting you or her out alive.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she had whispered as she wrapped your shoulder. She had said that so many times you were starting to repeat it in your mind. You had begun to believe it, and then she did this. She showed you a little light that maybe she wasn’t that far gone.
Maybe you could still help her.
They were so close.
They’d been able to piece together where Nancy was keeping her victims. And they were on their way, sirens off so as not to scare her.
You had to be alive. Malcolm didn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t.
The small shed they arrived at looked ready to collapse.
After Gil announced their presence, you appeared out the door. Nancy followed, gun pressed to your head.
“She needs to be stopped!” Nancy cried.
“Your mother is dead, Nancy! She’s gone. You’re safe,” Malcolm said, keeping his voice calm.
“No! She’s not! She keeps coming back!” Hysteria crept into her tone. You had to do something.
“Nancy,” you said. “I promise, if you let me go and go with them, they will get you help. You’ll never see your mother again.”
She let out a pitiful whine. “You can’t know that. She’s always there. She won’t leave us alone.”
“Nancy.” You tried to make your voice as soothing as possible. “Have I ever lied to you?”
This seemed to stump her. She was quiet for a few moments.
You looked around. Malcolm and the team watched you both, waiting for any sign that she’d take things too far.
Malcolm’s fists were clenched like he wanted nothing more than to rip you away from Nancy and shelter you in his arms. If only it could happen that easily.
“No,” Nancy finally whispered, letting the realization settle in her bones. “No.”
Her hold slowly loosened on you, and the gun lowered until it hit the ground.
You turned to her.
“It’s going to be alright,” you said as JT cuffed her and read her her rights.
You hadn’t noticed Malcolm had come up behind you until your arms were freed. You hissed, the wound in your shoulder flaring up and dizzying you.
He kept a hand on your back as Nancy was led away.
“Come on. We need to get you checked out,” he said, ushering you to the ambulance.
You nodded, his voice coming through fuzzy. Now that you were out of danger, everything hit you all at once. The kidnapping, the pain, the fact that you could’ve died.
Your body was heavy.
The last thing you remembered was Malcolm’s arms around you as you fell.
You opened your eyes to the darkness out your window. The smell of the hospital and the beeping of your heart monitor told you where you were.
Slowly, you turned your head to face the other direction and met Malcolm’s exhausted eyes.
“Hey.” He said it softly as if you were still sleeping. “How are you feeling?”
You missed the way his fingers twitched toward your hand.
“Tired,” you said.
He nodded. “Get some rest. I’ll let the doctors know you were up.”
He placed his hands on his thighs to push himself up, but you stopped him.
“Sit with me for a bit? While I’m still awake.” The sight of Malcolm comforted you the longer you were conscious and the more you remembered. You didn’t want to be alone.
“Okay,” he said.
You lifted your fingers as if reaching for him.
“I think you’re supposed to be holding my hand,” you hummed. You could blame your bravery on the morphine later.
He chuckled and ducked his head but pulled his chair closer to your bedside and slipped his hand into yours.
“Better?”
“Much,” you whispered. Your grip was weak, but Malcolm could still tell when you tried to squeeze his hand.
His under eyes seemed darker than usual, and instead of his hands trembling, his index finger grazed your inner wrist in a steady back and forth.
“When did you last sleep?” you asked. You wanted to stay awake. You wanted to live in this bubble with him before reality set in. It didn’t matter how long you’d been out or the questions you’d be asked. All that mattered was being here and having him close.
He shrugged. “A few days ago.” He paused. “I was preoccupied.”
With finding you.
You let out a slow breath. “Sorry to be such a bother.”
He heard the edge of teasing in your tone, but he couldn’t let even a smidge of you think that.
“You could never be a bother. Just don’t go getting kidnapped again, will you? I’d prefer it if you were out of harm's way,” he said.
“I’ll try my best. Maybe you should put out a statement. Make sure all the bad guys know.” This time the teasing was prevalent.
“I think I can put up a few billboards.” He tried to fight the smile forming. “I’ll even have Ainsley do a whole segment.”
You chuckled until the pain in your side made you stop.
“The doctor said you have a concussion,” Malcolm said, brow furrowing in concern.
“Nancy hit me with something.” You steadied your breathing.
“You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Just getting better.”
You weren’t sure if he noticed that he was squeezing your hand, but you didn’t mind. It grounded you. And the way Malcolm was staring at you set your heart fluttering. And the damn heart monitor was giving you away.
Malcolm looked at it, then you. “Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”
You shook your head. “No. No, I’m fine. Promise.”
“If something’s hurting, you need to tell me,” he insisted.
You bit the inside of your lip, debating whether or not what you were about to say was a good idea.
“That’s not why it did that,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes.
“...What do you mean?”
You glanced up at him through your lashes. “I mean…you make me nervous.”
He tilted his head, still not seeming to get it.
“I don’t understand. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He was about to pull his hand away, but you kept your hold.
“You make me nervous because I like you,” you said, giving him a shy smile. “And according to Dani, you like me, too?”
“I…well, of course, I do. I just figured nothing could come out of this since you’d be back to Quantico…” The blush was evident on his cheeks, and it made you all the more smitten.
“After this? A cushy 9-5 sounds incredible,” you said. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”
He grinned, leaning his elbows on the bed. “Where should our first date be?”
You answered him with a smile of your own. “Go find us some jello, and I’ll say yes to a second.”
He stood, still smiling, and was going to leave until he bent down to kiss your forehead.
“Be right back,” he whispered, thumb coming up to brush your cheek.
For a moment, you leaned into his hand with closed eyes. The subtle motion of his finger lulled you into a sense of peace.
You hummed, sinking further into the bed.
By the time Malcolm returned, you were fast asleep. He took up his position by your side again and started making a mental list of where he should take you for your second date.
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mangotortoise · 5 months
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can't believe twist of the knife has been updated and I gotta work my job should give me the day off
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944837/chapters/103619394
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lily-174 · 11 months
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criminal minds ❤️‍🔥
derek morgan
there’s blood
wait you’re being serious
that’s my real mom
spencer reid
this is a big deal
(this is my new masterlist, my old one stopped working that’s why there may be blanks)
30 notes · View notes
stilin-ski · 11 months
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got worms in my brain. writing a cm/spn hotchreid oneshot. brb. 
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med-ex · 6 months
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annd the crossover couldn’t be complete without this man, right?
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soulless-bex · 6 months
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supernatural x criminal mind crossover where the bau team corners dean and sam, are on the brink of actually - finally - capturing them when, in a sudden turn of event, spencer fucking reid takes hotch hostage, holding him at gun point and forcing his team to let the winchester go at risk of one of their own dying
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haveanotherfandomblog · 9 months
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Palm of God
One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-Sixty Days Before
Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo x Fem!OC
Genre: Action, Angst, Crime, Drama, Fluff
Word Count: 3.6K~
Warnings: Mentions of Violence
Masterlist || <<Previous | Next>>
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Three days. It took Aurora three days to come to the realization that Agent Gibbs did not like her-- more so than the other two agents that replaced his team. With every step she took and every word she spoke, his disdain for her grew more and more apparent. She did her best to ignore his scrutinizing glare, but she could swear he knew her secret.
Michelle told her she needed to stay late to work. She stayed too, assuring her it would be better if they left together, but she wasn’t going to leave her here by herself. As Michelle worked, Aurora kept busy at her desk, keeping her in her peripheral at all times.
Sudden ringing startled both women. Aurora picked up her cell, frowning when she saw the caller. She spared a quick glance at Michelle before she answered.
“Tobias? Why are  you calling--”
“Aurora, turn on ZNN.” His tone was sharp enough to cut through glass. He and her father had worked together several times before her father retired. He was a frequent presence in her life, more so than her own father. It was sad to say that they had a much closer bond for it.
“Wha--”
“Now.” She stood from her seat and grabbed the remote off Michelle’s desk. She flipped through the channels until the spotty helicopter footage on ZNN was on screen. She sat down on Gibb’s desk and turned the volume up. “Did you find it?” His question fell on deaf ears as she watched the camera zoom out, showing a burning SUV with two indistinguishable figures nearby. The scene before her was absolute carnage.
“We’re getting reports that an explosion has rocked a neighborhood in the vicinity of the federal plaza. Authorities have closed down the entire area and are not going to give any information at this time.”
“Oh my.”
“Yeah.” Aurora shook her head, focusing her attention back on her phone call. “Yeah, I’m seeing it now. Are you there? Are you okay?” Her heart sped up slightly as she bit the tip of her thumb.
“No. I’m in DC, but your dad is there.”
“And with eight suspicious incidents in as little as three weeks, we have no room but to speculate whether or not there will be more attacks.” She turned her attention back to the screen as a woman appeared, standing in front of an ambulance. “We have no word yet on any injuries, but with the explosion as far away as Prince Street, an unconfirmed report said it was a car bomb. NYPD’s emergency services, as well as federal--” She shut the television off, excusing herself. She went around the corner, enough to keep Michelle out of earshot, but within eyesight.
“Why is he in a federal building?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“I thought you knew. Your dad left retirement a few months ago, Kid.” His words stung. She took a deep breath, glancing over her shoulder. Michelle had turned the news back on and was watching intently.
“What do you know about his case?” Her attention was back on the phone call.
“Not much. I know they were in New York for ‘nother possible Son of Sam situation, but that’s it. You know your old man’s not one for sharing.”
“Okay, well contact someone on his team and see if he’s there or--”
“That’s the thing Kid. No one can get a hold of anyone on the team.”
She hung up the phone. Checking one more time to make sure Michelle was still distracted, she began dialing her father’s number. It rang and rang and rang but he never picked up. He didn’t pick up the second, third, or fourth time he called either.
Her heart picked up as she looked at her desk. She thought about leaving, driving up to New York and searching every street until she found him. But she couldn’t leave Michelle here unsupervised. If she was the rat, then she couldn’t leave her alone with valuable government secrets. But this was her dad. Sure he hadn’t been present much in her life, less so now, but he was her flesh and blood.
She see-sawed back and forth, unsure what she should do. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she dialed the one person who could help her at a crucial time like this.
“Hello?”
“Hey Mom, it’s Rory.”
“Oh Rory! How are you sweetie? Why are you calling so late? Are you in trouble?” There was a slight panic in her mother’s voice, and she knew she couldn’t tell her about Dad, or her job.
“No! No, I’m fine, but I have a question to ask you. I-- my friend is in a bit of a dilemma.” Her mother hummed, and she could see the knowing smile on her face. “You see, she has a job to do-- a really important job, but someone close to her is in trouble-- really big trouble. But if she goes to the person, she’s risking her job and a lot of people’s safety. But this person is irreplaceable. How does she know which one to do?”
After a moment of silence, her mother finally responded, “Well, your friend does have a big decision. But it ultimately comes down to what they feel is right. However, I will grant you this parcel of wisdom to pass on: jobs are important, yes, but they come and go. It’s the people in our lives we should worry about, because when they’re gone, they’re gone. And nothing can change that.”
“Thanks Mom.”
“Good luck, sweetie.” She disconnected the call, looking at her desk. Her mother was right, of course. She couldn’t abandon her father now, not when his life could be in danger. She returned to her desk, grabbing her jacket and bag.
“Rory? Are you okay?” Michelle stood from her desk, walking over.
“Uh. Yeah.” She spared a quick glance to her desk drawer before bringing herself back to the present. “Yeah. Family emergency. I gotta go.” She left her standing in the bullpen, brows furrowed.
As she assaulted the elevator button, she took her phone out again, dialing yet another person. Thankfully she knew he was up at least.
“Vance.”
“Sir, Agent Lee is still in the building. Last I saw her, she was in the bullpen. I’d have stayed with her but something important has come up and I have to go.
“Agent Baker, I don’t know how things used to run when you were in deep cover, but these types of things need to go through proper channels.” There was an air of annoyance in his voice as he spoke. She rolled her eyes, stepping out into the car lot. “You’re in the middle of a delicate and volatile case, and asking to leave--”
“With all due respect, Director,” she cut in,” I wasn’t asking. She hung up the phone, throwing her stuff into the passenger seat of her car before speeding off into the night. She knew she’d be reamed into the next year when she returned to work, but there were other important things for her to worry about and only one place she could go.
She reached down into her glove box, pulling out her emergency phone and dialing one last person. Her other phone was ringing like crazy, so with her emergency phone between her ear and shoulder, and her left hand on the steering wheel, she fished around until her hand came into contact with the buzzing metal. She powered it off just as the receiver picked up.
“Fornell--”
“Tobias, it’s Rory. Don’t save this number, it’s a burner. I need you to do something for me.”
“Rory--” There was an underlying exasperation tone to his voice.
“Please. I want the case file Dad was working on. If I can follow his steps, I might be able to know what happened.”
“That’s a whole lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘might’s’ Kid, but I’ll see what I can do.”
It was a little more than half an hour before she was pulling into the driveway of a grand house. She let out a puff of air, shaking her head. Fame, it seemed, had treated her father well. She stepped out of the car, making her way to the front of the house. She stopped at the birch tree by the patio, digging a small hole before wrapping her fingers around a tarnished key.
She dusted the dirt off the key, and made her way inside. She let out a low whistle as she took in the exterior. If there was one thing her father was fond of, it was the finer things in life. As she hung her jacket up, there was a deep bark and the sound of running coming at her.
“Mudgie!” Her father’s brown lab came barreling down the hall, tongue flopping in the wind. She dropped to one knee as the dog nearly toppled her over, licking her face excitedly. “I’ve missed you too, boy. You’ve gotten so big!” She knew he didn’t understand what she was saying, but that was okay. She was happy he was just happy to see her.
She stood up, using her sleeve to wipe away the saliva coating her face. Her dad had done quite a lot of renovations since the last time she’d been here. Of course that had been years ago, so she wasn’t too surprised that things had changed.
She turned on the small television he had in his kitchen, watching as the woman still covered the story. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and took a seat at his counter. There was an email containing her father’s case waiting for her. His entire case was at the tip of her fingers, and she had no time to go through every bit and retrace his steps. She squared her shoulders, ignored the panic tears wishing well in her eyes, and set forth.
The hours began to tick by, yet she was no closer to figuring out what was happening with her father than she was about what he was dealing with in New York. She combed through every piece of evidence she could, watched countless videos of murder, and waited for any type of call to let her know he was okay or hurt or dead.
It was hours before she ended up passed out on the counter, computer full of a gruesome case. Her cheek rested on the cold slab of marble, a little bit of drool falling from the corner of her mouth. Her phone was clutched in her hand, the insistent ringing from Vance had ended earlier in the night.
She didn’t hear when Mudgie barked happily as his owner stepped through the threshold, hand tightly wrapped around his glock. She didn’t see the soft look that crossed his face as he reupholstered his weapon. He powered down her laptop, setting it to the side. He went to the living room, pulling out a blanket and draping it over her shoulders.
More hours passed and the smell of fresh coffee pulled her from her slumber. She let out a high-pitched whine, stretching her arms out as her back cracked and groaned from the horrible position she slept in. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and the drool from her mouth, she found her father seated across from her. He had two mugs of coffee in front of him and slid one to her. She gave him a tight-lipped smile as she took the cup, careful to avoid contact.
The tension between them was enough to suffocate anyone. Both looked anywhere but each other, taking sips of their coffee. She’d been worried about him, of course, but now that he was here and alright, she didn’t know what to do or what to say. So she settled for keeping her eyes focused on her cup, letting the hot liquid warm her up.
“So, wanna tell me what you’re doing here, Kid?” His voice brought her eyes up. Of course the first thing he’d say to her would be direct and to the point. Her father was never one for short pleasantries.
“I got a call that a bomb went off in New York City, where you were because, apparently, you’re out of retirement.” Her words were true, but how she said them made them seem unnecessarily harsh. “Then no one can get in contact with you or your team. Where else was I supposed to go?”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he looked down at his cup. “I assumed you’d have gone to your mother’s.” He brought the cup to his mouth, giving her a pointed look.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to worry her. It was bad enough I was panicking, I didn’t need her freaking out too.” She looked down at her cup, guilt creeping up her back. “She doesn’t know, by the way, about what happened or that you’re back at work.” She let out a deep breath, pushing the cup away from her. “Besides, you seem okay, so I guess I should go now.”
She made a move to stand, but he was faster than his age let on. He stood in front of her, both hands up to stop her. She let out a breath, giving him a pointed look.
“Stay, let me make you breakfast.”
“It’s two-thirty in the afternoon.”
“It’s never too late for Dad’s special pancakes.” He gave her a hopeful smile, and somewhere deep down inside her, it warmed her heart to see him making an effort.
“Only if they’re chocolatechip.” She sat back down, bringing the coffee back towards her. He clapped his hands together, moving around to grab an apron from a nearby pantry.
“Your wish, is my command.”
As he began pulling out the necessary ingredients, she went to the living room where his albums were and picked up one of her favorites. The wonderful sound of the Beatles filled the living room and the kitchen, and she listened as her father hummed along. She returned to her seat at the counter, watching as he expertly made his way around the kitchen, just like the rare times he was home when she was a child.
The fragrance of cake batter and chocolate swirled around her as he set a fresh plate in front of her. The two of them chowed down in silence, letting John and Paul fill the room.
Once the music died out and their plates were almost empty, she collected them, setting to work on washing the dishes. He poured them fresh cups of coffee and waited until she was seated before he spoke again.
“It’s been a long time, Kid.”
“Over seven years.” Another awkward pause settled between them. “I didn’t think you’d leave retirement.”
“Jason, uh, he resigned after a particularly nasty case. I offered to come back.” He licked his lips, taking a sip of his coffee. He cleared his throat, setting the cup down. “Your mom told me you got a new job.”
“I didn’t realize you and Mom still talked.”
“Our marriage wasn’t a bad one, just a badly timed one. And we’ll always be in each other’s lives, especially because of you, Rory. So come one, tell me about the new job.”
“I, uh, I still work for NCIS. I just kind of have a desk job now.”
“Desk job? Didn’t take you as the type to sit around all day. What do you do?”
“I’m, uh, I’m a field agent on the NCIS Major Case Response Team.” She took a sip of her coffee and he let out a chuckle.
“Should’ve known. Too much like your old man.”
Once again a thick silence fell over them, like a fog on a rainy morning. Several minutes passed where the only sound around them was Mudgie’s desperate whining and them taking sips of their coffee. She glanced at the clock and saw she’d missed an entire day of work. She was screwed seven ways to Sunday, but that was another day away.
“Well, it’s been great catching up Dad, but I have to go. I’ve missed work and I haven’t been home in over a day now.” She stood up quickly, gathering her stuff and making haste for the front door. She paused at the door, hand gripping the door handle. She glanced over her shoulder to see Mudgie had returned to her father’s side, resting his head on his leg. “I’m really happy you’re okay.”
“Me too. If you want, we can do dinner sometime. Just the two of us.”
“I’d like that.”
The last thing she saw before she closed the door was her father’s smile, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. There was a bittersweet silence in the moments that followed. She looked down at her phone as she let out a deep sigh. She had several missed calls from Vance, Michelle, and Brent, and only one missed call from Gibbs. Somehow, that terrified her more than Vance’s missed calls.
The next day was probably worse than not knowing if her father was alive or not. Thankful as she was that he was, now she’d have to face the two people who had a say over her livelihood. As she gripped the steering wheel on her way to work, she didn’t know if it’d be Gibbs or Vance that was going to yell at her, and she didn’t know which she’d prefer.
She swerved into the parking lot, narrowly missing Agent McGee as she found her parking space. She squared her shoulders and gathered her things. Just like her mother said, this was a job.
“You drive almost as bad as Ziva.” McGee was standing there with an annoyed look on his face.
“Yes, well, depending on Gibbs’ mood, you might not have to worry about me much longer.”
“What?” His face fell as he fell in step with her. “Why? What’d you do?” They stepped into the elevator together. McGee didn’t mind being a few minutes late today.
“I didn’t show up yesterday and my phone was shut off.” She swallowed the lump rising in her throat as she reminded herself to take deep and steady breaths.
“Well, do you at least have a good reason?”
“I like to think so.”
McGee gave her a pat on the back as the elevator doors opened to reveal her level. She took one step at a time, keeping her head held high as she found her way to the bullpen.
Michelle and Brent were bent over their respective desks, focused on the files in front of them. They didn’t hear her as she carefully set her stuff behind her desk. She was mere inches from sitting down when a loud and clear voice rang throughout the room, capturing everyone’s attention.
“You.” Gibbs stood at the other end of the bullpen, coffee in hand and eyes laser-focused on Aurora. He marched his way towards her, setting his coffee on his desk as he did so. As he passed her, she followed obediently. Vance had warned her about his elevator interrogations. She kept her chin up until he stopped the elevator, turning to look at her.
“You wanna tell me where you were yesterday?”
“Virginia.”
“What the hell were you doing in Virginia that was so damn important?” He raised his brows, staring at her expectantly. She had to tell him the truth about her.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. She handed him her drivers license and the picture she kept tucked behind it. He glanced down at them. His brows furrowed as he held them further away from him, and she had to restrain herself from laughing.
“My real name is Aurora Rossi. Baker is my mom’s maiden name. My dad is SSA David Rossi, renowned crime author and federal agent. Two nights ago, it was brought to my attention that he left retirement, when I got a call that a bomb went off where he was during a case he was working.
“That picture is one of the few pictures where me, him, and my mom are all together. After their divorce, my dad’s career began taking off. He was home less and less. Days between visits turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and finally, months turned into years. Before yesterday, it’d been almost a decade since I last spoke to or saw him.”
There was silence between them. She felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and in that moment, she didn’t care if Gibbs was angry or not. He handed her back the picture and ID, allowing her to put them back before he spoke again.
“Why don’t you use his name?”
She couldn’t resist letting out a scoff. “Isn’t it obvious? Anything I did in life would have been because of him, not because of me. My accomplishments, my work, my life would be his, not mine. And I hate groupies.”
He let out a soft chuckle as he turned back towards the elevator. He exhaled, glancing over to her. “Rule eight: never take anything for granted. You did the right thing, Kid.”
Hearing him say that made her feel better. Though she wasn’t out of the woods just yet, she felt more confident facing Vance, knowing Gibbs backed her up. She let a tiny smile slip through as he flipped a switch to get the elevator moving again. But just before the doors opened, he reached up and slapped the back of her head.
“Rule three: never be unreachable.”
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anika-ann · 2 years
Text
Love on the Brain - Prologue
Take a Picture, It Will Last Longer
Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 2500
Summary:  Being Steve Rogers’ neighbour, coworker and friend comes with certain perks... doesn’t it?
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Series masterlist
Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.
A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics​; we start short, chapter will get longer... happy reading 💗
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"A picture's worth thousands of words but they don't tell the whole story."  Jennifer Brown
-
Had anyone asked you a few years back what the favourite part of your day was, you would answer slightly evasively and yet in a manner that said it all: not mornings.
You were not a fan, at all; your biorhythm was set to being more of an owl. Therefore mornings were destined to be your doom. Mornings were destined to be everything but pleasant.
Then again, living next to Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, made one rethink their stands.
Because seeing him coming back from his morning run at seven a.m. like clockwork was a sight for your sore eyes, more so when he arrived ten minutes later with two cups of coffee from the nearest café. Those mornings, he graced you with your morning fix, a view of his t-shirt clinging to his ridiculously large frame and a million-dollar smile with a teasing edge, because unlike him, you had just barely shuffled out of bed.
Mornings like that were heavenly.
More so, however, living next to Steve Rogers also made one rethink their ways.
An agent operating under the Avengers Initiative for two years now and a former FBI agent for what felt like a whole past life often called for an early morning and regular workout. These two were not mutually exclusive unless you could help it.
You were certainly not a fan of participating in a morning run, but Steve was a very sweet running partner who’d always wait for you and who made for a perfect eye-candy because he’d just do push-ups and such while you were trying to catch up with him and your lungs tried to catch up with you.
Watching Steve was the best motivation; but ogling him was only platonic, of course.
You two were friends – dare to say best friends. Despite your slightly awkward start, the whole co-worker slash neighbour thing worked for you well. For all your knowledge of the human mind, you could only think of one way to describe what happened between the two of you to lead to your friendship: you simply clicked together.
Hence some mornings finding you actually running with him, returning to your apartment building energized and exhausted at once, breathless and with an ache in your feet and a smile on your lips.
Much like today.
Even after an atrocious hour of having to wait up for your ordinary human running – and it was a must for Steve, because that was who he was, he wouldn’t just leave you behind –, he was a gentleman.
Opening the door for you as you were entering your apartment building, he lifted one corner of his lips in a lop-sided smile, which only widened at your quiet thank you as you were still trying to level your breathing.
He followed right behind you to the mailboxes, joining you in your routine of sorting and exchanging mail between the two of you.
Every now and then, a new mailperson would join the post office and inevitably got confused by the absolutely baffling signs on the boxes that made for a lot of Steve’s mail ending up in your mailbox and vice versa.
Some of your neighbours lost patience and added stickers on their own mailbox to clear things up, but not you nor Steve had done the same. It actually became a habit to deliver the mail that ended up in the wrong box straight to each other’s door and have a quick chat in the hallway… or a coffee. Or a breakfast. Or a lazy morning where you convinced him to hang out on his couch and catch up with at least one episode of what you were currently watching.
For most people, getting mail was ought to be annoying, because usually it was either bills or ads or boring adult stuff. But like this? With Steve Rogers, apparently even getting mail could be fun.
“You were pretty quick on your feet today,” he uttered as he reached over your shoulder to his mailbox situated directly above yours, causing your heart to skip a beat at both the reminder of how easily he would able to pull you to his chest and tuck your head under his chin and his compliment. “I barely had to wait.”
“Maybe you’re just getting slow, GG. Your age is catching up to you,” you teased lightly.
“Ha-ha. Just take the compliment, will ya, Sparkles?”
You reached inside the box absentmindedly, glancing over your shoulder, met with the sight of his broad chest first, followed by his raised eyebrow as you looked up. You couldn’t but smile, nodding.
“Thank you, Steve.”
“Just the truth. You’re getting better and better.”
“Must be the right partner,” you shrugged, praising him right back – only to feel your eyes widen when you realized how it sounded.
The right partner.
It sounded like you were dangerously skimming the border between friendship and a romantic relationship – a border you seemed to be pushing more and more these days, even if almost exclusively on accident. Which was probably the only reason Steve let you off easily whenever you did so.
Just like now.
Still. Feeling blood rush to your face with more ferocity than during the run, you swiftly shut the box, ducked under Steve’s tree trunk of an arm and stepped away to make space for him, busying yourself with the envelopes in your hands.
Electricity bill – oh lord.
Water – great, it is that time of the month.
‘Buy yourself a new furry friend’—do not tempt me.
The last remaining envelope was curious to say at least, instantly making you frown; it was rather thick.
Now perhaps that was the curse of being a government agent, paranoia having a grip on you at all times… but this wasn’t just paranoia. It was a gut feeling. A gut feeling screaming at you despite the envelope not being sealed. No sealed envelope meant there were likely to be no explosives.
And yet…
As you pulled out the content carefully, your heart leaped into your throat, your blood running cold – and turning colder with every new image your eyes fell on.
“Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost and I’m usually the one being followed by those,” Steve joked lightly, an echo of concern in his voice.
You couldn’t find your own voice, you couldn’t find the words; your mind come to a screeching halt.
Distantly, you were aware of Steve looking over your shoulder as he stood behind you, the tower of a man he was, his hand brushing your lower back as if for support.
You knew he noticed how you had stiffened, because it was impossible to miss it. Your body went into complete defensive – and into panic.
Because in your hands there were photos – quite a few photos – and on every single one of them was the man standing by your side. Pictures of him at various times of day, captured at different places he frequented, almost always wearing a different outfit. The only thing connecting the photos was his expression – in most of the photos, he was smiling.
He looked as handsome as ever, but that certainly wasn’t what had your heart beating its way out of your chest.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, so lowly it barely reaching your ears.
Then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that the alarm bells in your head were ringing louder with each passing second.
Because someone was watching Steve.
Someone was stalking Steve.
And they wanted him to know – that much was clear.
What was considerably less clear but possibly even more menacing was the message written in black marker, underlined in red, written over every single photo.
NOT WORTHY
You had no idea what the fuck that meant, but frankly, you did not care.
You didn’t care about anything besides Steve being in danger.
It was that last thought that snapped you from your trance at last, years of training and practice finally kicking in as you spun to face him.
“Okay… I’m gonna go with you and check your apartment. Then, you’ll grab a quick shower and meet me in fifteen minutes,” you ordered mechanically, leaving no room for discussion. “You take a minute longer and I’m barging into your apartment with a gun.”
Your serious eyes met his, widened in shock, softened by the furrow between his brows.
“Come on now, that’s a little-“
“Not a word.”
He opened his mouth to oppose you once more, but you never gave him the chance, shooting him a glare that clearly made even Captain America think twice before crossing you. It kinda reminded you of the one time you stared him down when he told you he never tried pineapple on pizza and he really wasn’t sure it could taste good--- not important.
The clock was ticking.
“Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds left, Steve. You know I wouldn’t joke about this. Whatever your plan was today, it’s just changed,” you said, adamant. “We’re taking these straight to your friends. And I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re in the same room as Ironman and Black Widow, at least.”
“Sparkles-“
You stared at him, unrelenting and stern even as anxiety weighted a ton in your stomach.
“Fourteen minutes, Steve. Let’s go.”
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You almost made good on your promise as you stood in front on Steve’s door, listening intently and watching the seconds tick by, gun ready as well as the two knifes in your calf holster. You would not take any chances – this was Steve.
Just because the lock still looked untouched by brutal force and his apartment had been clean mere minutes ago when you checked it and you both lived on the eight floor and you secured the possible entrances from the fire escape, it did not mean any intruder couldn’t get in somehow.
Twenty seconds remained from the timer you had set and your legs were getting twitchy, preparing to kick the door in and run in, gun blazing.
Yes, perhaps you were being overbearing and took this extremely seriously, but you had a good reason.
Statistics were full of people who underestimated a stalker – and ended up hurt or even dead. Hell, you had lived through one of those cases and the bad ending after bad ending piling up had brought you here, hoping for better outcomes in your new job.
It was naïve to think you would never encounter a case like this ever again; but you had never imagined it would happen to someone you cared about so deeply.
Then again, no one ever did until a psycho made them or their loved one a target, may it be a stalker or another disturbed individual. The victims themselves often didn’t see it coming.
Kyle Meyers sure didn’t.
The life leaving his eyes, eyes accusing you of betrayal because you had promised to protect him flashed behind your eyelids, an image of your own bloodied hands stealing air from your lungs.
‘Please-‘ he had said, one little word, betrayed and yet so trusting, a grown man begging like a child, heart bleeding and vulnerable, because you had fucked it up and swore to keep him safe.
And failed.
Ironically, the authorities deemed you innocent, free of error, allowed you to stay despite the blood still staining your hands.
But the blood was so dark, crimson, so achingly red, red, red-
The timer went off with a vibration on your wrist, snapping you from your horror-like daydream.
Steve was still inside.
The timer went off, but you still had time. Steve was not going to end up like all the people you couldn’t save before.
Bracing yourself, you glanced at the door, muscles tensing, preparing to kick.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when the door flew open.
Steve watched you startled, shield up to protect himself from the gun you instantly aimed to his face – and you lowered it just as quickly, heart having leapt to your throat.
“Jesus,” you breathed out, closing your eyes briefly, gulping. Great, now I almost shot him before his stalker could get to him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, GG. Truly.”
Concern was written all over his face as he let the arm with a shield fall down to his side, engulfing you in a gentle half-hug, doing justice to his nickname of a gentle giant.
It was clearer than day he was more worried about your jumpiness than his own safety and if you weren’t so overwhelmed with just how impulsive you had been, it would irritate you. Steve wasn’t taking this seriously; those of past experiences you had shared with him and which were coming back to haunt you, on the other hand, weighted him down.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you didn’t shoot me.”
You dug your elbow into his stomach hard, pushing away even if his warm touch soothed your nerves.
Jerk. This was not a laughing matter.
“Let’s go.”
Naturally, you insisted on checking the bike thoroughly; with Steve’s help because you were not much of an expert on motorcycles. Once again, you could tell he thought you were being overbearing, that you were overreacting – but you were taking no chances.
He would have jumped on the bike with no care for the world because they were just a few photos with a little note.
As if… as fucking if.
“Steve, we’re not getting on that bike unless we check it,” you said decisively, not above emphasizing the ‘we’, knowing all too well what you were doing.
Unsurprisingly, something in his blue eyes changed – slight annoyance melted into resignation... and then worry.
It was a low blow to use Steve’s mother-henning tendencies against him but until it got through his thick skull that he was in danger, you were willing to use any means necessary.  
“Right. We ride together.”
“I told you I’m not letting you out of my sight,” you reminded him, mindful to sound less biting but no less firm. “For once, I don’t care if you mind having me tag along, because yes, I simply am riding with you.”
With a sigh, he nodded, crouching by the vehicle as you stood tall, sharp eyes monitoring the surroundings for anything suspicious or downright dangerous.
Neither of you found anything.
For now, your mind unhelpfully supplied as you climbed behind Steve, his shield holster on your own back so you could hold onto Steve tight and reach for the weapon when needed. You shushed the pessimistic voice as you pressed to his back and breathed in the scent of leather mixed with Steve cologne.
“Shall we?”
You just nodded against his back.
You trusted him to drive you both safe to the Tower; in return, it was your job to ensure you remained safe from other dangers than traffic.
And damn, you would.
You would keep him safe no matter the cost.
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→ Next part
Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist
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Thank you for reading! 💕
As said above, we’re staring relatively short - prologue and first chapter. Then we’ll delve in for real👀
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