you were in the fbi

Originally posted by jevislanuit

Originally posted by jilybelly

Spencer was smart. Very smart. Okay, he was a genius. He had an IQ of 187 and he had an eidetic memory. He could read in multiple languages, even write in them. However, speaking in them was difficult for him.

He would use the wrong pronunciation or use the wrong inflection. He would emphasize the wrong words.

That’s why you were here.

You were an FBI Linguist and you were one of the best in your field. With a number of languages under your belt, you had earned an elusive permanent position with the FBI, while most linguists were only contract.

“This is Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N.” Hotch introduced you to the team.

“Nice to meet you all.” You began shaking everyone’s hand as Hotchner gave you names to the faces.

“And this is Dr. Spencer Reid.” he finished.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” you outstretched your hand towards him.

“Oh he doesn’t-” Morgan began to say, but was shocked as Reid took you hand in his.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” he smiled warmly before jumping right back into the case and catching you up.

CONTINUED! 

Stolen Glances

Fandom: Now You See Me

Imagine/Prompt/Chapter: Imagine secretly liking Jack Wilder, and him liking you back, but neither of you knows it. Merritt sees it though and decides to help the two of you along…..

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1306

(So sorry this took me so long to get out. Between my friend passing away and the boyfriend and family stuff that came up, I took way longer than planned on this. I hope  you like it though! @jaylee-crapnetier )


Out of all the guys you could have fallen for, it had to be Jack Wilder. You had met him when Dylan brought you along with him to meet the Horsemen one day. You worked as an FBI agent with him, and were always on the lookout for new information regarding them. You had gotten too close to blowing the case back open, so he let you in on the secret. And now you basically lived with them when you weren’t working.


The most surprising part of it all was Jack. That he was alive, that you liked him, that he was so kind, that he was so goofy. He was just a pleasure to be around. You didn’t realize that he thought the same way. That he enjoyed spending as much time around you as you did him. He didn’t smile the way he did around you for just anyone. You were the only person he would stay up with until 2 in the morning, getting caught up in teaching you card tricks. The only person he wanted to watch cartoons and eat cereal with in the morning was you. And you didn’t see it.


Merritt did though. He saw it clear as the cards on the table. He could see the look in his friend’s eyes when he watched you and you weren’t looking. He saw the way you constantly smiled at him. Yet neither of you were apparently smart enough to see it. Oh, young love. How blind it could be when you didn’t have wisdom and clarity over the situation. And seeing how he was older and wiser and didn’t have a puppy love blindness in his eyes, he took it upon himself to make it known to these two that they liked each other. Maybe they would actually do something about it and be happy with themselves, instead of stolen glances across the room.


“Hey Jack.” Merritt knocked on his partner’s door and waited for a response.


“Come on in.” Jack called from the inside. The hypnotist smiled as he let himself in and shut the door behind him. “What can I do for you?”


“I think this is more what I can do for you.” He strutted his way across the room and knelt down next to Jack, who was sitting in bed and fumbling with a deck of cards. As usual. The confused face oh the younger magician’s face was priceless. This was going to be fun. “Just look up into my eyes….. And sleep.” He caught Jack by the back of his neck and pulled him against his shoulder. He mumbled a few things into his ear, then snapped his fingers. Jack sat up like nothing had happened at all. “Good chat bud. I’ll talk to you later.”


Later that night, you and Jack were at the table in the kitchen eating dinner. Dylan was called for a case, J was on a grocery run, and Merritt was off hiding in his room. The two of you hadn’t said much to each other as you ate. Just a quiet meal together. Your feet would occasionally brush against each other’s under the table. As soon as they did, you would blush and pull your foot back, but it would soon be back where it had been and you’d do it all over again. Yet neither of you had the guts to actually admit how you felt.


Why in the world you were so attracted to him was mind boggling. Maybe it was how messy he kept his hair when he hung around the apartment. Or how he liked to use funny voices and made you smile. Then again, it was mesmerizing to watch him with a deck or cards. And his smile that lit up the room. He was funny too. Oh so funny. But extremely loving and thoughtful. He seemed to care so much for you. But, it only seemed to be as a friend. It didn’t seem to be a romantic type of caring. You wished with all your heart that it would be though.


Your eyes had drifted down to your plate as you finished up, but they shot back up when the feet of Jack’s chair scrape against the floor. He started to move his arms around and a bizarre stream of words came out of his mouth. It took you a second to realize what was going on. No. Oh no. He was NOT doing that…….


“I’m a little teapot, short and stout.” Why why why why why? “Here is my handle, here is my spout.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he made the handle and spout with his arms. “When I get all steamed up hear me shout.” The dude wasn’t the best singer, but he actually wasn’t the worst. “Tip me over and pour me out.” You laughed even harder when he leaned as if he was pouring something out of his ‘spout’. As soon as the song was over, he stood there. The sudden shock of what in the world he had just done hit him like a brick wall. You could see the look on his face completely change from a happy smile to utter shame.


You haven’t stopped laughing though. How could you? THE Jack Wilder just stood up and sang 'Im A Little Teapot’ to you, WHILE DANCING!!!! You were laying against the table, unable to breathe from laughing so hard. A few minutes later, when you had calmed down for the most part, you looked up and saw Jack staring at you.


“What?” You asked, still grinning like an idiot.


“Nothing.” He shook his head, then took a deep breath. “Actually something. I really love seeing you smile. Even at my expense.” Wait…… what? He did? Holy crap, did Jack like you?!?! No….. or……. maybe…….


“You do?” It was the only thought that you could coherently make out.


“Yeah. I do.” He sits back down in his seat across from you and looks into your eyes. His warm brown eyes……. “I love seeing you smile. And making you smile. I love how you take care of us bums. How you’re an absolute sweetheart, yet won’t take crap from anyone. I have wanted to tell you this for so long Y/N. I just couldn’t though. I don’t…… I don’t do this. The whole really feeling things for a girl and wanting to be with her. Plus, I wasn’t sure if you liked me back. I thought you might, but I wasn’t sure. And I couldn’t say anything if I wasn’t 100% sure that you liked me back. And even now I’m not. I don’t know if you like me. All I know is that I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”


Your smile never faded. If anything, it somehow grew. He did like you! Oh thank goodness. You sat there with a sparkle in your eye, listening to him pour his heart out. It was all you really had ever wanted to hear from him. It felt like a dream honestly. For once, your reality was better than your dreams.


“Jack, I cannot tell you how long I have wanted to hear that from you. I’ve been falling for you since day one. But, like you said, I wasn’t sure if you liked me back and I was afraid to make a move. But, I guess I know how you feel now, so I don’t have to worry.” Jack chuckles and nods.


“Yeah you’re right. Hey, since I can’t take you out on a proper date, how would you feel about renting a movie tomorrow night and holding my hand?”


“That sounds perfect.” You and Jack. The fallen Horseman and an FBI agent. Who would’ve guessed?

5

“What do you think we’re dealing with here? I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You were listening in on the two FBI agents’ conversation, trying to hear if they’d figured out something you had missed, but it was sounding like they were just as lost as you, if not, more so. Stiles was shoveling one handful after another of french fries into his mouth, being as much of a help as he could be in the current situation.

“Werewolf, maybe?” One of the agents suggested, and you and Stiles locked eyes, brows furrowed.

“By the claw marks and moon cycle, I would say yes, but venom? That changes the pattern.”

“Should we tell them what it is? What if they can help?” Stiles asked in a whisper. You shook your head slightly at him.

“I think they’re hunters. If they find out about the Kanima, they could find out about.. the others.” You kept your voice down. “It’s in everyone’s best interest that we handle this ourselves.”

“But-”

“Stiles.” You cut him off, grabbing your bag and walking out the door. You had to tell Scott what you were dealing with.

-

“Those guys are the real deal, like, hitting the books, posing as FBI agents kind of hunters, not just shoot and go.” You stressed, snatching the ball that he’d been throwing in the air instead of listening to you. “I should have gone to Derek. He always takes me seriously.” There was a knock at the door, making Stiles jump and Scott looked at you expectantly. “You have got to be kidding me.” You mumbled, throwing the ball at Scott, hitting him in the stomach before walking towards the door.

“Bring chips on your way back!” Scott called after you.

You rolled your eyes as you turned the handle to the door and there stood the two hunters from the diner.

( AN: I know this is different from what I usually do, but it was just an idea I thought I’d try out. Let me know if you guys like the crossover ideas.)

I am The Night - Bruce x Reader

@batman-robin: Hiya!! Can I request [ “You’re seriously like a man-child.” ] with Bruce Wayne?? Please and thank you :D

Sorry it took me a bit. XD Bruce is harder to write than I expected! But I’m pretty pleased with this, so I hope you like it too! <3

You’d known Bruce since you were kids, having met him shortly after his parents had been killed, when you began to attend Gotham Academy. He’d always been very serious, and outwardly withdrawn. It was Alfred who had told you he had been quite normal before his parents deaths, that who had was sometimes still shone through. You saw it as years passed, when Bruce would do or say something that was just so… normal for your ages. But it never outdid who he was.

 Driven, obsessive, serious and ambitious.

 You were there when he talked about joining the FBI, to do some good there, and when he realized he couldn’t do what he wanted there and gave up on that pursuit. You tagged along after graduating, as he traversed through Asia, learning from different martial arts masters, and even trained under Ra’s al Ghul (and that was a helluva trip, too). You kept Alfred up to date on how things were going, even when Bruce wouldn’t.

 Nothing had stopped you from being his friend. Though some things had made you consider it, if for no other reason than your sanity and health. This happened to be one of them.

When Bruce talked about becoming a vigilante, you’d told him it was insane. Right off the bat, you’d made your stance clear. He’d ignored you, like you’d kind of known he would. And next thing you knew, he had the batcave, and a suit, and a belt full of little gadgets. Alfred pleaded with him too, to not do this, but he was set.

 And that, was how you found yourself here. Standing on the roof of some building in the warehouse district, in the middle of the night, the chill of winter blowing in from the north, and making you shiver in your black uniform made to nearly match Bruce’s. You kinda wish you had taken up his suggestion of a cape now, if only to help shield you from the wind. In fact, as you stood there, you kinda missed the sulking ‘lost’ Bruce who you’d followed through Malaysia and every other country where no one knew the name 'Bruce Wayne’. At least that had been dumb normal stupidity. You could handle that.

 But this bitter cold, running around in Gotham after dark, chasing crime bosses and muggers, this was less your speed.

 Still…

 Rubbing your arms to create some warmth, you glanced over to see Bruce standing at the edge of the roof. Anyone else, you might have worried about a suicide attempt, but this was Bruce, who was too stubborn for something like that. Instead, he stood there, a looming dark figure watching the ground below. His cape blew in the wind, fluttering around like a shadow around him. It was almost beautiful.

When he spoke, his voice came out low, deep and a bit mechanical. You both had the tiny little box to change your voices, but it was still so weird to hear it coming from him. The lines he said, like they were read from a script, were obviously rehearsed, and you couldn’t help but grin. Laughter slid from your lips, even as you tried to stop it.

 "Did- did you practice that?“ You said once your laughter was mostly under control. He didn’t say anything, but the way he tensed, and ducked his head down, you knew he had, "Oh my god, you did!”

 "No-“ He began to deny, not looking over at you.

"Wait until I tell Al.” You laughed, just imagining telling the butler, it would be a fun thing to snicker over together.

Bruce hissed out your name, turning to look at you finally, and even with the mask, you were sure he was glaring at you. “You will not tell him anything.”

It was an order, but you ignored it, rolling your eyes, “I mean, come on, B. ’I am vengence’?”

 "Y/N.“

 ”I am the Night.“ You grinned, reaching out to poke at him, "You can’t tell me you haven’t been saying that to your reflection for days.”

 "Does it matter?“ He snapped.

 Snickering, you shook your head, "No, fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

Finally, he relaxed a bit, just enough, knowing you wouldn’t do anything once you’d said you wouldn’t.

 "You’re seriously like a man-child, though.“ You laughed, before moving to find a way into the building below, leaving Bruce to sulk on the roof.

“Bra Prompt”

webcricket’s 500 Follower Celebration

Item/Object: Bra

Word Count: 653

Requested by: @splendidcas

(not my GIF)

“Thanks for holding down the fort,” Dean hoisted a six-pack of beer on the table, glass clinking glass, and gestured around the library.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the elder Winchester, quizzically angling his head, “Dean, the bunker is held in place by gravity.”

Sam sniggered, accepting an open bottle from his brother, settling into the chair opposite and flipping open his laptop, “Yeah, you guys saved our asses - thought we were in for it when that FBI agent blew our cover.”

Dean shook his head, smirking, and popped the top off his own bottle, taking a long draught and plopping heavily into his chair. Something hanging from the angel’s pocket caught his eye, and he leaned forward for a better look.

Keep reading

2

“Uh, excuse me?” you squeaked, walking into the unfamiliar Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI. You were just there to drop something off but you couldn’t help but feel like everyone there was analysing you as if you were an unsub – Spencer had assured you that you’d feel like that a lot because people there just did it out of habit.

“Hi, can I help you?” a pretty woman with long blonde hair said, smiling assuringly at you. You assumed that she knew by the way you blinked or something that you were feeling uneasy by the whole situation.

“Yes, um, I’m looking for Spencer Reid. He left this,” you held up the thick jacket in your hand, “at my place and it’s going to be freezing today and I wasn’t sure if he was going to drop in to home before going to work this morning.”

The woman stared at you for a few moments in almost disbelief. You then realised from the few pictures that Spencer showed you of his friends that it was none other than Jennifer Jareau – he was the godfather of one of her sons.

“And you bought him some lunch too,” Jennifer suddenly grinned widely, “you must be (Y/N) then! I’m Jennifer but you can just call me JJ – hold on, I’ll just grab Spencer for you.”

You said a quick thank you as she dashed up towards several offices and conference rooms. After a few minutes, Spencer emerged out of one of the rooms with an entire team following behind him looking rather giddy. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you were going to meet Spencer’s friends… you had to remind yourself again that you weren’t under investigation.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer laughed when he finally reached you, his friends all standing behind him, waiting patiently, “thanks for coming in. I was actually just thinking that I was going to be cold today.”

“She’s so pretty!” you heard one of the women squeal, causing Spencer to grin as he quickly kissed your forehead and then turned to face his team mates and friends, his arm wrapped around you.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

“It’s great to finally meet the girl that Reid won’t ever shut up about,” the older man said with a smirk on his face, this becoming the first introduction to the friends of what would turn out to be your future husband.

Title: What am I?

Word Count: 3223

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Warnings: None really, old writing

Description: When the readers powers accidentally kills some people Sam and Dean hunt her down, but when all hope seems lost an unlikely ally steps in to help her.

Notes: This is a younger, teenage reader, as such there is no romance of any kind.

You had been running. Running and praying. To God, to his angels, to the pagans, and any other being that might have the slightest interest in helping you. You were currently starting to ask even the less likely candidates for some sort of assistance, and as you ran down the abandoned subway tunnel you could hear heavy footfalls in the distance.

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Clairvoyant Disease (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

                   „Agent Y/L/N?”

                You were surrounded by stacks of files so you didn’t see anyone approaching you. Tall, dark haired man was standing in front of your desk.  He was wearing grey, expensive suit. He was in his late forties and behind him stood older, less dressed up man.

               “How can I help you?” you asked not sure what this was all about. They looked rather intimidating and you saw that they were carrying guns. After a moment you realized- they were from the FBI too. You knew them.

               “ My name is David Rossi, this is my colleague Aaron Hotchner.” The older one, David, smiled at you. “ Do you have a moment?”

               “I’m here on a internship. I don’t think my boss would appreciate me having a brake.” You moved the finished files and wanted to grab the new ones but Aaron Hotchner moved them out of your reach.

               “ We are Special Supervisory Agents with the BAU.” He quickly stated. “ And we had spoken to your boss. You can take a break to speak to us.”

               You raised your eyebrows and quickly felt yourself getting annoyed.

               “ I know who you are. I study your cases. I will repeat my question. How can I help you.”

               Two agents exchanged quick glances. David Rossi seemed to be amused.

               “ I can’t imagine that a smart, young FBI agent with good credentials would enjoy her time sorting through the old files.” He stated, the smile still present on his face.

               “Old files are not particularly interesting.”

               They looked around your little cave. You observed from your seat. You suddenly became intrigued.

               “ I can only speculate about why you are here…” You started but Hotchner interrupted you.

               “You always wanted to work in the archives after your graduation? I know you studied profiling and have a criminology degree.” Aaron Hotchner looked straight into your eyes.

               You read about the team and therefore you thought you knew them well but no amount of research could prepare you to being profiled by them. Because that’s what they were doing.

               “ Is that why you are here ? You want to question my carrier choices?”

               Rossi chuckled.

               “ You know what your academy professors think about you?” He asked.

               “ They say I am a freak.” You stated simply. It was years since you felt touched by their comments.

               “ I wouldn’t put that so bluntly Y/N. You have a gift and you are wasting it in this dungeon.” Rossi  was the one to look you in the eyes now.

               You bit the inside of your cheek.

               “So what exactly you want me to do?”

xxx

               “Lisa Elena Edison, killed in Seattle in 1987 was the first victim. He killed another five women the same year.  His victimology is all over the place. “ Emily Prentiss handed you the files as you both walked towards the airport.

               “ In 1990 he came back and killed another four. This time in New York and only prostitutes.” Spencer Reid was walking beside Prentiss.

               “ Big cities.” You murmured to yourself. “ I understand you think it is work of the rope killer.”

               Morgan looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

               “ You did your homework.” He smiled.

               “Always do.” You smiled back without knowing. “So where we are headed now?”

               “Dallas.” Agent Hotchner answered without turning around.

xxx

               You sat next to Prentiss on your way to the town where last two murders were committed. You found her presence very calming.

               The team was surprised when Rossi introduced you. Maybe a little suspicious too but they quickly focused on the case and not on the young agent that was presented to them as a consultant.

               You sat in your seat quietly and listened to their conversation about the case.

               “ We profiled the guy to be in his late forties. That would make him  about sixty now.”

               “He was active almost his whole life but the gaps between kills are odd. There may be more bodies out there.” Morgan stated.

               “The signature is too unique.” You said not looking up from the files you were reading. “ He always left his victims tied up with the same kind of string and in the same way. He wouldn’t kill without it.”

               “We saw many copycats agent y/l/n.”

               “She is right Morgan. It is possible that we are dealing with the same guy. It is highly possible this unsub is still alive and active.” Spencer defended quickly defended you.

               Hotchner closed his file and stood up from his seat.

               “ Morgan, Prentiss and JJ talk to the families of the last two victims. They will be waiting for you. Rossi and Reid will start working on the geographic profile. Y/n you will come with me to the last crime scene.”

               If they were surprised by his decision they haven’t shown it.

xxx

               The ride to the crime scene was uneventful. You talked about the case but you focused more on the city itself. It was your first time in Dallas and you behaved like a tourist what Hotchner found amusing.

               “Do you want to know who pointed you to us?”Hotchner asked as the silence fell between you.

               “ I know exactly who it was.” Your mentor’s face was still present in your nightmares even after three months.

               “ You can’t blame him y/n. You do have a good reputation amongst the FBI agents and he didn’t want you to waste that.”

               “If by reputation you mean they think I’m weird , then you are right sir.”

               Hotchner looked slightly annoyed.

               “ People are afraid of what they don’t understand. I can assure you that the team is different in that matter. We make our own judgments. Besides you’ve met Reid, you should know what I’m talking about.”

xxx

               “ He is not consistent.” You said and begun to put on your gloves.

               “Please explain.” Hotch searched his pockets for his badge and showed it to the policeman who stood in the doorway of nice, big, one family house.

               “ We are in a good neighborhood in a nice house.”

               “ He used to kill in abandoned buildings, motels. I see your point.”

               Stairs muffled the sound of your footsteps as you and Hotchner made your way to the bedroom.

               “Detective.”Hotchner shook  the hand of tall, slightly overweight man. He stood in front of the bed with small notebook and pen in his hand.

               Old school, you thought.

               After quick exchange of pleasantries you two were left alone.

               He was standing next to the closed bedroom door as you looked around the room. You knew you will be judged. That’s why he restrained himself from stepping in. It was your time for showing what you really are.

               “Where was the husband when the murder happened?”

               “ On a business meeting.”

               “Business meeting that doesn’t require the wedding ring.” You pointed to the small jewelry dish on the vanity. “ Something wrong with the marriage?”

               “Because he left his wedding ring at home? You based your judgment on that?” Hotchner asked without changing his expression.

               “You saw the walls. Alicia and Frederic Rutherford are not together on any of those photos and you noticed that too.”

               Aaron nodded.

               “The official cause of death was blood loss but we know he was strangling her too. That pattern is the same on all of the victims.” You looked through the crime scene photos to figure out how the body was positioned. “ He tortures, cuts her, and then waits for her to bleed out. We know he cut through an artery because blood is even on the ceiling.”

               Suddenly you fell silent. Hotchner seemed surprised but you experienced this before.

               Visualizing the what happened was fairly easy this time. You knew where she laid because of the photos. The state of the bed and pink painted walls was showing you that the victim suffered greatly.

               She was petite, stunningly pretty even in her late thirties. She was tossing on the bed frantically  when killer decided to finish her.

               He was standing on the right side of the bed because the blood droplets. There wasn’t any on the carpet there.

               You gasped when you realized something. It was hardly possible that man in his sixties would manage to drag young, fit woman all the way to the bedroom. You looked at preliminary ME report. No sign of head trauma. You have to wait for toxicology  report but you didn’t think she was drugged. Overall it looked like a work of the rope killer.

                Fuck, you needed to focus. Bring all the facts together, you encouraged yourself.

               Clean chair on the left side of the bed.

               “It is him. The rope killer is killing again. And he has help.”

               Hotchner processed what you said for couple of seconds.

               “Let’s get you out of here.” Your hands were shaking when he  was leading you out of the room with his hand protectively placed on your back.

               In the car he gave you a pack of tissues.

               “Is this normal?”He asked.

               “ My nosebleed is not important now, sir.”

               He started driving and you tried your best to pull yourself together.

               “You can call me Hotch, Y/N. ” He kept his eyes on the road so he didn’t saw when you raised your eyebrows.

               “So I passed your test Hotch?” This time he looked at you. You held eye contact for a brief moment.

               He didn’t seem surprised.

               “Of course you did.”      

Part 2 here!

eaglesfire replied to your post: eaglesfire replied to your post “eaglesfire …

No problem! I think it’s a difference between Military and Civilian lingo. In the military it’s understood that if you transfer from one branch to another it’s like converting from one religion to another, you leave the first behind entirely. I imagine civilians assume it’s like subcontracting? You still work for the first place but you’re working AT the second? I don’t know… I’ve been out for a while and I still think civilians are weird.

Yeah, I think that’s the case. I was thinking of it in terms of the way Homeland Security is (or was a few years ago) set up – agents from other organizations were tapped for Homeland Security but were still also, you know, FBI or ATF or CIA or what have you on top of that. But I should have been seeing it more in the way I see SEALs or Rangers, where it’s “owned” by the branch and everyone inside is a member of that branch regardless of history. 

I think also there’s a presentation in military recruitment/publicity that the branch you join is a hard identity and there’s not much interaction between the branches. Which is obviously not true, especially for PJs, but if you’re not involved in that field you tend to forget that. 

(I do kind of like the idea that Sam may have come from another branch initially and Rhodey gives him shit about it when they hang out. :D “Hey, I didn’t know they let Marines in without a literacy test.”  “Oh, the Chair Force was my retirement plan.” “They do say that increased mental exercise prevents early-onset dementia.”)

Conjugal Visits: Part 1 - Cowgirl

Title: Cowgirl

Summary:  Dean and the reader have a purely “friends with benefits” arrangement. One that comes with an interesting twist.

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: 1316

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

Author’s Note: This is a series. Here’s the Prologue. I will be making a master post soon. Thank you @katnharper for your invaluable help and the plethora of ideas you gave me.

Originally posted by spnjensenlove02

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Sam Winchester-Miss

Title: Miss

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

Word count:1011


“Excuse me, Miss. Can I have a word with you?”

Those words made your cheeks light up. The minute you turned around, your eyes meeting soft hazel ones that resembled those of a puppies, you knew you were going to embarrass yourself.

The tall FBI officer stud confidently as he gave you a soft smile. You nodded, motioning your head over to the small table over at the side where no one was sitting.

The two of you walked quietly over to the table as you tried your best to calm your nerves and took a seat opposite the handsome officer.

“I would just like to ask you a few questions regarding last nights murder. If that’s alright with you?’‘He asked, pulling out a notebook as again he gave you a reassuring grin.

You nodded your head, breathing slowly as you closed your eyes and begged to God that you didn’t do what you knew you would.

’’S-sure”

But you did.

You stuttered. You had always had a stutter whenever you were nervous. Whenever someone payed extreme attention to you when you were speaking you always got nervous and stuttered. Anytime you were nervous you always stuttered and the minute you saw the handsome officer peering down at you through his long brown locks, you knew you’d stutter like crazy.

He looked back up and gave a kind smile as he asked his first question.

“What did he look like? Any detail can be helpful’'He smiled as he began to write on his notepad.

’'Erm…w-well. I-I d-didn’t-erm’'You coughed, shuffling as you cleared your throat; as if that would get rid of the stutter.

’'I-I on-only s-saw him f-from the s-s-side’'You stuttered crazily as you almost cried in shame right there. You scratched at your knuckles, your cheeks bright red.

The man looked up at you after he paused writing and gave you a sweet smile, almost as if he was admiring you.

’'Well that can still be helpful. Did you get to see any of his face? His side?’'He asked, watching you carefully. The extra attention just made you stutter even more.

’'W-well, h-he, I-I. Erm’'You coughed again, shuffling in your seat. ’’S-sorry’'You apologised as you tried desperately to get out your words.  

The tall man chuckled as he shook his head, his silky brown hair fluttering around his shoulders as he gave you a calm smile.

’'It’s okay, just take your time’'He smiled softly. To you you had never been so ashamed in all your life. He was the most beautiful man you had ever come across and here you were stuttering every two seconds.

To Sam though he thought you were adorable. He noticed you the minute he stepped in and was quick to grab you before Dean could. When the two of you sat down and you began to stutter he had to keep himself from cooing aloud.

His eyes scanned over your rosey cheeks, his smile being forced back as he watched you blush heavily and stutter profoundly. He thought it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

’'A-and he h-had b-blue e-eyes. L-l-like r-really b-blue’'You coughed again. Your eyes accidently flittered to his lips that were being held captive by his teeth. You almost passed out right there and then. He nodded, tucking back his hair behind his ear as he scribbled on his notepad.

Sam bit his lip as he forced back his smile at the sound of your voice squeaking off at the end and the redness that covered your cheeks after you did so. He scribbled random crap down to make it look official before he looked back up at you.

’'Thank you-erh…’'Sam trailed off as he looked at you.

’'O-oh! (Y/n)’'You filled in with a jump. Sam nodded giving you a smile as he held out his hand. You pulled your shaky hand from the other as you grasped his calloused hand and shook it. He frowned when he saw your knuckles.

’'O-oh. S-sorry’'you coughed, shoving your scratched knuckles under the table. You had only done it out of nervousness. You didn’t realise you were doing it.

’'You can call me, Sam by the way’'He smiled. You nodded, your eyes widening for a second. Did he like you? No. There was no way, he had just heard how you spoke, there was no way.

’'So, (Y/n). I’ve gotta go catch a killer but erm… would you like to go to dinner after?’'Sam asked hopefully, his brow raised with a slight tint to his face as he know became a little shy.

You stared at him for a really long time in shock before snapping out of it. ’'C-crap! Sorry’'You apologised as your whole face turned beet red. ’'Yeah. Y-yes. I’d r-really l-like that’'You nodded. Sam chuckled as he grinned.

’'Great. I’ll see you back here at 7?’'Sam asked hopefully. You nodded, not being able to contain your smile as he gave you a wave and a final smile before walking out the shop.

You sat there smiling to yourself like an idiot before you finally got out of your seat.

’'what’s with your smile?’'Liz asked as she chuckled, wiping down the rest of the tables.

’'I just got a date with a demi-god’'You grinned as you swung on your jacket. Liz looked at you before realisation set in.

’'Oh! That hot hunk who looked like he was made in a lab? oh nice, (y/n)’'She laughed as she patted your shoulder and flashed you a wink.

You couldn’t believe you had stuttered like hell in front of Sam and all he had done was offer you a date and smile at you the whole time. You was so sure you had made a fool out of yourself but apparently not.

You smiled to yourself as you grabbed you bag and packed the rest of your things. Sam was on your mind the whole time as you left the shop and left the warm breeze hit your face.

You turned the corner only to meet bright blue eyes.

Then everything turned black.

Convincing

Yea, requests are open! You are my favorite writer!! Can you do a Morgan x reader where he falls hard for her and she likes him but not as strong as he feels for her and she is unsure of committing to him due to his player reputation. End however you see best. Thank you!

I can most certainly do this!  Here’s your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!


You found yourself admiring him quite a bit.  The sweat that dripping down his face during workouts.  The way his body moved down hallways with his gun drawn.  The way his torso twisted as he put on FBI gear.

You were taken by him.

But so was every other woman.

And he took to bedding every other woman.

You knew not to get too tangled up in a man such as Derek Morgan.  You knew what he was capable of.

Taking bodies and breaking hearts.

That’s a player’s unmentioned motto.


He hadn’t bedded a woman in weeks.

The last time he did, your face was peppered on the inside of his eyelids as he spilt himself into another woman.

A woman who’s name would be replaced by a crude nickname in his phone.

Come to think of it, you are the only woman in his phone without a nickname.

Does that mean something?

He sees the lingering looks.  The way your eyes latch on to his body, cascading around as if eating your fill before he realizes.

He could never do to you what he does to other women.

You make him nervous.

He’s never been nervous before.


You keep your distance.

You shrug off his long hugs for short side-armed ones.  You turn him down for lunch outings, suggesting that Garcia’s probably hungry and that you have too much paperwork.

He even tried asking you for dinner one weekend, saying that you could use the time out and about on the town.

But you didn’t want to watch him flirt with other women.

So, again, you turned him down.

After all, when falling in love with a man like Morgan, one must protect themselves.


Months.

It had been months since he had been looking for someone to share his bed…someone to relieve the temporary loneliness.

But when he laid his head down at night and closed his eyes, all he could dream of was you in his arm…

…in his bed…

……underneath his body……

………bouncing on his hips………

He wanted you.  He wanted your moans and your groans.  He wanted your skin and your vulnerability.

But he also wanted more.

He wanted your smiles and your laughter.  Your jokes and your company.  Your movie nights and your tears.  Your period outrages and your ice cream binges.  Your sickness and your health.

Shaking his head, he smirks to himself as he watches you cross the room.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think those could be wedding vows.


A test.

You figured Derek Morgan could handle a simple test.

You had noticed that his eyes would linger, his smile locked onto you as you crossed a room, or entered on he was in.  You realized he hadn’t spoken of his nasty adventures with random women in quite some time, and you wondered if something was up.

Or maybe was wrong.

But as he had continued with his offerings for lunches and dinners and late-night talks, you had decided on a test.

A test on whether or not the Derek Morgan was serious.

Garcia had tried convincing you for weeks that he was serious about you.  That his eyes had locked on to you and wouldn’t look away.  That she had even attempted setting him up on a date and that he walked her home, saw her in, and left.

A test.

Walking up to Morgan, your shirt dipping low and your hips swaying lightly, you watch his eyes rake across your body before turning fully towards you, a broad smile on his face as he cocks his hip up onto your desk.

“’Ey there, Y/L/N,” he muses.

“Hey,” you smile lightly, leaning against the same desk edge as your eyes connect with his.

And his gaze continued to hold yours.

You watched.

And you waited.

You waited for him to lick his lips, or make a comment about your breasts, or for his vision to dip down your body and hook onto the dip in your waist.

But as he crossed his arms over his chest, his smile genuine and bright, his eyes held yours as his brow begins to furrow.

“Y/N,” he murmurs as he leans into you, “are you alright?”

“Derek?” you breathe, your brow furrowing deeper as you look at him in a completely different light.

One you hadn’t thought he was capable of.

“Yeah?” he asks, confusion wafting over his face as your body posture softens and you let out a light sigh.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, your eyes lifting back to connect with his as he looks taken aback by your question.

“Yeah,” he says as he nods, “yeah I am.”

“Wanna go grab a pizza slice from that parlor down the road?” you ask as you stand to your feet.

His smile sunk into a grin as he stands up beside you, his hand planting itself into the middle of your back…like a true gentleman…as he begins to escort you to the elevator.

“My treat,” he smiles, his eyes side-glancing you as a shocked smile stays imprinted onto your face.

He isn’t sure what he did to finally convince you.

But he’s glad he waited.

Mission - Crowley x Reader

“We need you to get information from Crowley,” Dean said over the phone.

“I thought you said you never wanted to see me again. Plus, I’m already working another job. I’m not going to drop everything to help you, Dean.” You said through your earpiece while lining up your shot with your sniper rifle on the roof of the building across from your target.

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Trading In the Silence

A/N: This was requested by an anon. It is the first part in my Spencer x Reader Trading In the Silence series. I hope you like it! :)

Here is the (second part), (third part), (fourth part), and (fifth part)


You probably should not have opened the door. You knew that the FBI were in town and the correlation between two strangers and their appearance were probably closely related. Maybe that was exactly why you did open up the door, because of that unconscious acknowledgement that they were the FBI. The FBI could probably get you out of this hell hole. Away from your mother and the misery and pain that she caused in your life.

Your mother was holed up in the living room, taking a nap on the couch and snoring loudly, when the door bell of your dark house rang loudly. The shrill ring made you jump. You are always on alert, ready for somebody to suddenly snap. You checked on mother, sneaking into the living room to make sure that she was asleep before answering the door.

You swung it open to reveal two men, holding their badges out to you. One of the men was older and dressed in a nice, italian, work suit. The other man was taller than the first. He was much younger, too. He couldn’t be any older than in his late twenties. I also could not help but notice that he was good looking, really good looking, with his floppy golden locks of hair falling around his face and his cute sweater, and dazzling, polite smile.

The two men introduced themselves to you. The older man was SSA David Rossi and the younger man was Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. A doctor, huh? He looked much too young to be a doctor. If he was a doctor at his age, then he was definitely smart and able. Maybe he really could get you out of this shambles of a place that I am forced to call home.

“I am y/n y/l/n. Is there anything I can do to help you?” you said politely

You could feel them taking in your unconventional appearance. Your long y/h/c, flowing down your shoulders and hiding the top of your too big, baggy black sweatshirt that you always wore. It covered the bruises. The knees of you pants were worn down so much that they had been patched at least a dozen times. Your socks were both riddled with holes. You pulled your sweatshirt close to you, hugging yourself tightly, and crossing your arms.

“We were wondering if we could have a talk with you about an investigation. May we come in?” Agent Rossi asked

I hesitated. Oh, how I wanted to let them in. Mother would be furious and they would see and they would maybe even take me away. But I could not do that. What if they could not get me away? “I’m sorry, agents. I do not think that I can let you in at this time. My mother is asleep and I would rather not wake her.”

The two agents shared a glance with each other. I tried to ignore it but I knew that it was going to lead to something. “If that is all, agents, I really need to get back inside. I have things to do.” I started to shut the door, almost disappointed that nothing more could have happened. It was a long shot, the FBI agents able to save me. Nobody was able to save me. But then Dr. Reid stopped the door from closing shut. He put his foot in front of the door. You opened the door back up and masked your sudden surge of hope with an annoyed glare in their direction.

The young doctor turned to his fellow agent and sniffed the air theatrically, almost mockingly. “Do I smell what I think I smell, Rossi?” he said. Rossi shrugged. “I think I smell Marijuana. You know that plant over there could very possibly be a hemp plant. Y/n, I think we are going to have to take you in.”

You were shocked that they had played that card. It was technically illegal for them to do. They needed a reason to apprehend you and if they pretended that you actually had possession of pot, they could do just that. To the average, under-educated citizen, this would seem like a perfectly legal move. The feds think that you are growing illegal pot? Why of course they can arrest you. But, you are no average, under-educated citizen. You had always been advanced and exceedingly intelligent. Growing up, you did not have many friends, your parents made you stay indoors, and you never had electronics or games to keep you entertained. Therefore, you studied a lot. You studied anything and everything and when you finished, you were reread it. So, yeah, you knew that what the handsome doctor and his partner were doing was illegal, but they did not know that you knew.

You put on a shocked face, feigning dismay. “That isn’t pot! That is just a normal plant!” you spoke loudly to the two men, exaggerating your words.

“M'am, we have to take you to the station. I am sorry. Protocol.” Agent Rossi said with a shrug. “Do you need to be cuffed or will you come willingly?”

You yanked away from them and started toward their car parked in the street. “No need to restrain me. I won’t fight back.” You climbed into the back seat of the black SUV as the two men got into the two front seats. They drove back to the station in silence.

When you arrived at the police station, you were lead into an interrogation room and you were left to sit alone for nearly an hour until Spencer walked into the room. You had not said a single word since  you arrived. You  had a long hour to think about what you were going to do. You knew that these guys were experts on behavior, hence the name Behavioral Analysis Unit, so you decided not to give them any intimation to anything that you knew that they did not already know.

Spencer sat down in the chair across from you. You did not move a muscle. You did not flit your eyes to his when he began to speak. You stared straight ahead, unblinking. Consequently, when you stared straight ahead your view was entirely of Spencer’s chest. Still, you did not stir. Then, Spencer began to talk.

“So, y/n, I hear from your neighbors that you are something of a black sheep.” he glanced down at the file on the table “You know, one of  your neighbors even described you as the Devil’s Child. I am going to assume that they were not talking about your mother on that account.” he stopped and looked down at his file again.

He was dead wrong about her mother. He may have been right about the neighbor not call Mother the Devil but, that does not mean that you think she does not hold a close resemblance, with her tyrannical ways of punishment to cure her “insubordination” problems. Mother was definitely not a very far throw from the Devil.

You continued looking straight ahead, refusing to speak and disrupt your marathon of silence. “Y/n, did you know that every single neighbor that we asked about suspected citizens in the area mentioned you. Now, a couple of people being suspicious of somebody, I get, but every single person that we interviewed mentioned you. I don’t think that is a coincidence.”

Yeah, well it was. Those naive little pinheads knew nothing. They were all morons. None of them were intelligent enough to realize that she was not the real threat to their precious little community, Mother was.

Spencer waited for you to respond but you did nothing. You stared ahead at nothing. You closed yourself off from all noises, it was nothing but you and your mind. There would be no reaction from you at all. You had trained yourself how to do this over years of mistreatment from Mother. She would yell and scream at you and expect you to not react in any way shape or form. If you so much as clenched your jaw at her obnoxious screeching, she would slap you, again and again until you could not even feel your jaw anymore. Now you knew precisely how to not react. You knew how to hide your thoughts and your feelings. Your behavior would not give you away.

Spencer decided to move onto his next tactic. He pulled out several crime scene photos. There was half a dozen of them. By know, he understood that if he were to place them on the table in front of you, you would not so much a glance at them. So he held them up, directly in front of your face, almost so close that you flinched. But you did not flinch for you knew better.

The pictures that the agent showed you were eerily familiar. The knees of the pants that the victims wore were worn down. Their socks were torn nearly to shreds. The worst part was their faces, caked in their own blood that had once oozed from deep wounds and scratches in the skin from being slapped and beaten over and over again. You knew how that felt. Still, you sat unflinching.

Spencer sat directly across from you, mirroring your silence. He scrutinized you for an inkling of behavior but you gave him nothing. You stayed resolute. He rose from his seat and left the room. The genius called the team’s technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, who quickly printed a copy of your rap sheet. He thanked the woman and grabbed the papers that he needed for your interrogation. He read through your record as he walked back into the interrogation room that you resided in.

Spencer threw the file onto the table and plopped down into the chair adjacent to yours. “Did you know that you have a criminal record, y/n?” he said matter-of-factly, not expecting you to respond to his mock question and to continue with the silence you had been using for the entire night.

But you answered him, “Yes, I knew that. I was in for shoplifting twice and trespassing once.” then you resumed your silent streak.

“Tell me, y/n. Why did you answer that question but not the others?” he asked. He was met with silence from you. You answered his first question because he had obviously known the answer. He had not already known the answer to any other question he had asked, and some things that he asked were not even technically questions.

Being the genius that he is, he quickly deduced the difference between the question that you actually answered and the ones that were met with silence. You were detained for two more days, three days in total. Spencer and you had developed a sort of dance. He was the only human being that you had any contact with for all three of the days. They kept you isolated because you were the lead suspect in a federal crime. Spencer always tried to get you to trip and speak more than you wanted to or even do something as simple as clear your throat, to do something that would reveal more about your behavior. But you were unyielding.

Finally, on the last day, Spencer waltzed into the interrogation room and said, “In exactly 35 minutes, we are obligated by law to let you go. If there is anything you want to say, I recommend saying it now.”

You almost did not say anything. Afterall, it did not follow your silence rule. But then you panicked by the idea of hope. It surged through you like a rocket, just as it had the day that the two mysterious strangers had shown up at your door step. You contemplated what  you were going to do, tell everything you knew, which was a lot, or stay silent and protect Mother. Spencer sighed, growing impatient, and finally gave up. He turned to leave the room and you shouted his name after him.

“Wait! Agent Reid!” you had shouted at the man

And then you told him everything.  You told him how you had been beaten mercilessly by your mother ever since you were barely able to walk. You told him, in detail, of all the awful things that she had ever done to you. You told him that you believed she was behind the heinous murders because the pain that had been inflicted upon those victims had frequently been exacted on to you as well. It was your mother’s preferred method of torture.

By the time, you finished basically retelling your life story to Reid, it was hours past your three days. You were proven innocent and your mother was proven guilty. You somehow felt both elated and pitiful. You had just turned in the woman who had drilled thoughts of misery into your mind for more than twenty years.

You went with Agents Reid and Rossi back to your home. It was where you had lived for your entire life and you were exultant that you would finally be able to move far, far away from the torturous memories.

The three of you climbed out of the car together and you walked up to your front door, Reid and Rossi taking the lead as you stood behind the two of them. They rang the door bell. You heard the familiar repugnant voice of Mother shout sharply from within. You stood straight as a statue where you stood, unwavering. She soon came to the door.

“What do you want?” she barked, her unsavory voice stabbing you from the inside out, anger rising from within. But you were well trained, you stood still despite the burning anger for the woman. You focused on your victory, twenty years late but here nonetheless.

“Ms. y/l/n, you are under arrest.” Reid said, swiftly standing behind your Mother and cuffing her before she could refuse. He read the woman her rights. She shouted out pleas of help. She begged you to get her out of the mess that she got herself in. You stood stone still and looked her straight in the eye.

Reid handed your mother off to Rossi, who lead the woman, shouting disreputable slurs as she walked. Rossi squeezed her cuffs on extra tight as she restrained against them. He managed to get her into the SUV. Then he drove away, leaving you alone with Spencer. You turned to him and the two of you stood for a long moment, remembering the long hours of silence.

Finally, you reached your hand out to his. He stared at it for a moment, before reaching out and shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Agent.” You said. You really were grateful. This man had given you a life. He had given you a chance. Now you were going to trade in the fearful silence, for the life that you had always only dreamt about.

He smiled and you were reminded again of how good looking he actually was, lanky and awkward in a graceful and beautiful way. “Anytime, y/n.” he said “Anytime.”

Fighting For Nothing - Olivia Benson

Request: Hello! 😃 can you do a law & order SVU imagine where the reader and Olivia are fighting in front of the whole presinct about something fairly stupid and the reader finds her adorable and randomly kisses her even though they’re not together yet. Thank you

A/N: First Benson imagine I’ve written. Let me know what you think…


You had a tendency to argue. People often pinned you as a stubborn and argumentative person and, in a way, you were. It was never any different either. You and Lieutenant Benson always walked to work nearly everyday that you were in New York. You didn’t work at the presinct. You didn’t want to either. You were a forensic scientist for the FBI. You loved commuting to Virginia every so often but sometimes it was nice to spend time with your friends. 


“I’m gonna stop and get a cappuccino.” Liv smiled at you, walking into a convienience store. “You want one?” You chuckled and shook your head. 
“I can’t even believe you, a badass, prefer a damn cappuccino.” You laughed again. Olivia looked back at you while she poured her drink. You got yourself a black cup of coffee, quickly following Liv to the counter to pay. You grabbed a few dollars out of your pocket but, when you went to pay for your coffee, you found that it was already done. You frowned. 


“I could’ve got that. Thank you.” You walked out of the store with Olivia by your side. She chuckled again, taking a sip of her cappuccino. 
“You’re welcome.” She smirked in your direction. You huffed in response and brought the coffee to your lips. 


OoOoOoO


“That’s a lie! It’s obvious that tacos are full balanced meal. Nachos.” You scoffed. “What the hell are nachos even good for?” You weren’t sure how you got into this argument but here you were. Olivia walked into the presinct after you, ready to give her side of the argument.


“Well, for one, nachos are simple. As a detective, it’s a lot easier to make nachos then tacos.” She was a lot more calm than you were. You scoffed once again and followed her. Everyone tried saying ‘hello’ to you but you didn’t even acknowledge them. 


“Don’t walk away. Tacos can have anything you want on them. You can also have a soft shell or a hard shell. Nachos are tortilla chips covered in cheese. I eat those during the football game.” You followed Olivia to a random spot where she suddenly stopped and faced you. The expression on her face was one of mild anger and confusion. 


“Yeah? Well, I can add jalepenos and any kind of meat to my nachos and they’re still nachos. If you-” You couldn’t take it anymore. In two steps, you were standing directly in front of her. You leaned in rather quickly, capturing her lips in your own. Almost immediately, you pulled away. The entire presinct was staring at the two of you. Your face was red as a tomato. 


“Don’t you all have work to do?” Olivia hollered to the squad. She grabbed your arm, dragging you into her office. You opened your mouth to apologize but no sound came out. You never regretted anything and you rarely apologized. You weren’t going to start. Luckily, you didn’t have to. Olivia’s lips found yours again and you smiled. Once the two of you had to breathe, you stared at you. Could she have felt the same? 


“Detective-” You glanced at the clock. You were supposed to have left for Quantico 10 minutes ago. Olivia followed your gaze and smiled. 


“I want to take you out for tacos sometime, Y/N.” She winked, walking you out of her office and into the presinct area. Everyone was pretending not to eavesdrop on your conversation. 


“I’d like that, Liv.” You kissed her on the cheek before starting home. Who knew that your argumentative tendency would’ve gotten you somewhere

Just A Beginner

Prompt: reader x reid. the reader is mute, so reid decides to learn sign language so they could communicate. and he tries to do activity and tasks with her that dont require talking on both parties. however she enjoys just laying down and listening to his ramblings from time to time

Requester: Anon

Warnings: None, really

Words: 772

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Not in That Way

Originally posted by spnsamwinchester

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean

Word Count: 1K+

Request: Sam x Reader Imagine based off the song Not In That Way by Sam Smith.

Warnings: Angst

A/N:  @diesintheshower, you deserve all the love for your patience.  And thanks for getting me hooked on this song.  I’m sorry to say that I spent time looking up guitar tabs instead of working on your request.


You loved everything about him. There was never any denying it.

And here, in this pace, there was no thinking of anything else.  It was a change of pace from previous cases you’d worked with Sam. Instead of your usual jeans and motorcycle boots, you were in a skin tight black cocktail dress and heels. You’d tried so hard because if there was any night for Sam to see you as something other than a friend, it was tonight.

You stepped out of the motel room where Sam and Dean were waiting for you, dressed sharply in their FBI suits.  You blushed as you looked up at Sam, his brows raising at how changed you were. Dean whistled, pulling the keys to the Impala from his pocket.  

“Looking good,” Dean called.

“Oh, this old thing,” you joked, ignoring the nerves that flickered like faulty circuits in your stomach when Sam looked at you.  

“You, um, look really nice,” Sam finally said, avoiding your gaze and slipping into the passenger seat.

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2

“Ok, ya tengo con qué escribir.” With pen in hand, you began scribbling down the new details on the case you were working on, given to you by the amiable FBI agent you’d met earlier at the county’s jail. 

“Espera.” You heard footsteps in the hallway outside the kitchen, but when you looked up you saw nothing. “Ya, perdón. Qué fue lo último que dijiste?”

What you had failed to notice was Dean leaning on the wall next to the kitchen’s entrance, listening in awe to the way you were speaking over the phone. How was it possible that he did not know that you spoke Spanish? 

“Muchas gracias por la información,” you said, putting your pen down and rising from the table. “Cualquier cosa de todos modos nos vemos mañana. Bye–Dean!”

You jumped in surprise when you saw the eldest Winchester, all smug-smile and crossed-arms-over-his-chest, standing by the door. “Hey, Y/N. Or should I say…Hola, Y/N.”

You laughed. “What are you on about, Winchester?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Spanish, sweetheart?”

“’Cause,” you shrugged, “I didn’t think it was something worth mentioning.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean sauntered towards you, his eyes never leaving your face. “You sound incredibly sexy, Y/N. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and turned you around so that you were leaning on his chest. Dean lowered his head and whispered in your ear, “Say something in Spanish, please.”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, giggling as the stubble on Dean’s chin tickled your neck. 

“Anything.”

“Me estas dando cosquillas.”

“Mm, what does that mean?”

“You’re tickling me!” You spun around and placed a quick peck on his lips. Then you said, “Te amo, Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s face lit up with recognition. He said, “Hey, I understood that!” before leaning in to cup your face and kiss you. When you broke apart, he murmured, “I love you, too.”

* * *

Requested