Varian x Reader Oneshots

Netflix and Kill

You tapped your fingers, your mind absent as you sat rested against the edge of your desk, a mug of lukewarm coffee gracing your hand. Your lips were pursed into a straight line as you observed the windows of the interrogation room. Your partner had gone in first, deciding on the old 'good cop, bad cop' routine, which never worked.

But what could you say, Rapunzel just didn't seem to have an intimidating bone in her body.

You however... let's just say you knew how to get the information you needed.

You set down your mug on the desk, seeing the paper brown and dampen under its touch. Oops. At least it wasn't your desk. Oh well. You'd deal with Eugene's strop later.

You set your eyes upon the now open door, watching as Rapunzel exited the room, a smile plastered on her face, but a tired and irritated look in her eyes. She spotted you and ran over, almost knocking over several interns and an officer on her way. You rolled your eyes at her recklessness, and brought your body up off the desk, feeling it shake as the distribution of weight changed.

"Hey, (Y/N), this guy is tough!" Rapunzel chirped, wiping a strand of her short, brown hair out of her emerald eyes. You smiled slightly at her relentless cheer, and tucked a wisp of fringe behind your ears.

"He won't be after I'm done with him," you added coldly, intending to be slightly menacing, but Rapunzel just clapped you on the shoulder.

"Good ol' (Y/N), I know you'll get the job done," she smiled, holding her thumb up in your face. You sighed as you placed your gaze on the open doors, seeing the faint outline of a pair of hands handcuffed to the table. They tapped, and fiddled, and blurred together. Wait... blurred? Huh.

Maybe you should get your eyes checked.

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"So, Varian..." you said, swinging the chair around so you could lean against the back of it. You opened your legs wide and stared at him, eyes set and stone.

He didn't falter.

"What?" He asked sweetly, opening up his cuffed hands into a questioning stance. You narrowed your eyes, bringing them up and down his torso. He was maybe early-mid twenties, no older than that. He wore a leather jacket, under which was a simple grey shirt. His face was a soft tan, his lips chapped and slightly faded. His nose was curved so you could see the indentions of his nostrils, and splattered with a legion of freckles, which stretched across his cheeks.

His eyes were a deep blue, and as you stared into them, they didn't move, or twitch from your glare. No, they just stayed, omnipresent and large, innocent and misleading. His hair was swept up over the top of his head in a careless fashion, a blue streak running through it, but from the few strands that had fallen into his face, you could see that it usually hung loose in front of his eyes. Perhaps he was anxious, and had played with his hair previous to coming here. Or perhaps he was trying to act suave and cool under pressure.

Or maybe a mixture of the two.

"Something wrong, detective?" He asked snarkily, and you snapped your eyes out of thought as you met his properly, focusing in on his face.

"You tell me," you snapped, relaxing yourself in your seat, trying to draw him into a false sense of security, "security cameras show you giving a man a small bottle. Half an hour later, said man was found dead in his apartment."

He raised his eyebrows and leaned in.

"Interesting," he mused, intertwining his fingers, the chains clanging slightly. You breathed heavily through your nose.

"So you admit you gave the man a bottle?" You asked, pushing a notepad and pen in front of him. He looked down at it, and smiled slyly, before slowly pushing it back.

"Well, detective, I never said that, did I?" He mocked, wagging his finger at you; you clenching your fists underneath the table.

"We have security footage, Varian, we know it's you," you spoke through gritted teeth, your hands clenching and unclenching restlessly.

"I would like to see this 'footage'," Varian said, making air quotes as his hands sat bound on the table. He looked so relaxed, passive, and you were so aggressive.

You wondered to yourself.

If someone walked in now, who would they think was in charge?

You shook the thought away, and opened your hands, feeling the crescent indentions in your palm sting.

From your pocket, your brought out a photo. Grayscale, but nonetheless a photo. Nonetheless, it was evidence. Concrete, definite evide-

"That's not me."

You snapped your head up, looking at the man in front of you. He smiled smugly, pointing to the photograph.

"That's not me," he repeated, and your mind raced.

"What do you mean 'that's not you'?" You questioned, standing up off the chair.

"Look properly. See the glint, on the hand? That's not from skin, that's from metal. The person you're looking for isn't me, as they have a fake hand," Varian said, and you snatched up the photo. He was correct, there was a sheen to the hand which couldn't possibly be from skin. You sat back down in defeat.

"Well played," you congratulated, relaxing slightly in his company.

"Can I go now?" He asked, and you nodded.

You unlocked his handcuffs, and looked down at him.

"If you have any information regarding the investigation, I urge you to call us," you said, smiling at him, hiding your disappointment. Well, back to the drawing board.

"Actually, detective, I think I might have something for you," he added.

You gestured towards the pad in front of him, and he took the pen, writing, his nose almost touching the paper.

Suddenly, he got up and walked out the door, swinging it shut behind him.

You eagerly grabbed the paper, and read the words, sighing as you did so.

###-####-### Call me ;)

"Hmph," you said, smiling as you sat on the table, pulling the sheet off the pad.

Call him, eh?

Maybe you would.