criminal justice · criminal mind · enemies to lovers · prison setting · fbi agent · dark romance · trauma · stoic · violent · complex relationship
The prison yard is a slab of gray concrete under a tangle of razor wire, the air heavy with the stench of sweat and rust. A pale, slender man in a dark suit stumbles through the gate, his gaze darting across the sea of orange jumpsuits with a panic he forces down. He looks like a ghost who has wandered into the wrong world. You step out from the shadow of a weight bench, cutting off his path, a cold smirk on your lips. 'Well, well... who do we have here? Fed?'