littleslaywrites

[littleslaywrites]

guys I’m gonna be on a bit of a hiatus until 8/18 because I’m doing sorority recruitment which is like 13+ hours per day but send in requests that you want me to work on after then!

[littleslaywrites]

need him in a way that cannot be put into words

also this is giving me fic ideas

[littleslaywrites]

this is aaron hotchner btw.

[littleslaywrites]

home at last | emily prentiss x bau!reader

summary: the two of you come home from a long case and unwind at home. 

word count: 1.1k

cw: fluff, alcohol consumption, sharing a bath

It had been a long week, the case running longer than usual. It was days and days of long hours and late nights. You’d hardly even had a moment to speak to Emily the whole time, other than theories for solving the case. 

You finally made it home after getting off the jet, opening the door to your apartment. It was a silent plane ride, everyone too tired to speak, if they were even awake. When Emily and you pass the threshold of the living room, you both let out a sigh of relief. 

“I am so glad we’re home,” Emily says, throwing her bag on the kitchen counter. 

“Me, too.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, taking a moment to breathe. 

You have a usual routine that you fall into after cases. Emily, being less than skillful in the kitchen, would watch as you made dinner, handing you the ingredients while you cook. You’d then enjoy your food at the dining room table, decompressing. 

However, tonight you’re too exhausted for your usual routine. 

“I’m not making anything more difficult than a microwave dinner,” you say, leaning against the wall. 

Emily laughs softly. “Good. Because I have a feeling I’m too exhausted to accurately measure any ingredients right now.”

You hum, opening up the kitchen cabinets. “How does box mac and cheese sound?”

“Sounds perfect. Anything that’s not takeout is a step up from what we've been eating for the past week.”

You put a pot on the stove, starting to make the dinner. While you do that, Emily takes your go bags and starts the laundry. 

You stir for a few minutes, letting your mind switch off as you watch the macaroni turn.

Emily comes back, returning you to reality from your mindless state. “Laundry’s in,” she says, hopping up to sit on the counter. “You need help?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Are you offering to cook?” 

“I’m offering moral support. And possibly wine. Do we have wine?”

“As if you even have to ask. We both know the answer.”

Emily chuckles, opening the cabinet with your wine rack inside. “Any preferences?”

“No. You’re the expert on that subject,” you say, cutting open the cheese packet. “Whatever pairs well with Velveeta.”

She smiles, grabbing the cheapest on the rack. She opens the cabinet with your glasses in it, but feels preemptively exhausted from thinking of putting anything in the dishwasher. Instead, she shuffles some items around in one of the bottom cabinets, taking out some red solo cups. She also pulls out some paper plates and plastic spoons, sliding them over to you.

You scoop up the mac and cheese, exchanging a bowl for one of the glasses (or cups) of wine Emily has poured. Both of you plop down on the couch, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table. 

“We’ve got the frat boy setup with this meal,” you say, taking a sip of your wine.

Emily laughs softly. “I have a feeling I’d fall asleep before I could load up the dishwasher.”

You both fall into silence, focusing all of your meager energy on eating. 

Emily breaks the silence when you’ve finished your meals. “I never missed being home this much until I started dating you.”

You smile softly. “Yeah. But I think home is wherever you are.”

She smiles, tired but genuine. “After cases like these ones, I wonder how I ever did this job without you.”

“You didn’t. You were just waiting for me.”

She gives a snort, leaning her head on your shoulder. “That was so cheesy.”

“I thought you liked cheesy,” you say, motioning toward the empty bowls with a smile.

“You’re so corny,” she says with a playful eye roll. 

“You love it.”

Emily gives a happy sigh. “I do. And I love you.”

“Do you love me enough to throw the bowls away so I don’t have to stand up?”

“Oh, shut up.” Emily grabs the bowls and cups. “You’re so annoying.”

“I assume that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes. You know it’s a yes.”

She returns to the couch, standing in front of you and tugging on your arm. “Come on. Let’s take a bath.”

You oblige, letting her pull you up and lead you to the bathroom. She turns on the water as you both undress.

When it’s full, you both get in the warm water. Emily lets out a sigh, leaning against the wall of the tub. 

“I needed this. I didn’t realize how sore I was until now.”

“They make us run around too much. I don’t know how you do it in heels.”

She gestures, signalling for you to come closer. You sit between her legs, settling so your back is against her chest. You close your eyes as you tilt your head back to lean against her shoulder. 

“I could stay like this forever,” you sigh out.

“The water would get cold.”

“Smartass.” 

Both of you giggle, and she wraps her arms around you. You stay like that for a while, until the bath turns lukewarm. You help each other wash off the grime of the case, and climb out, wrapping yourselves in towels.

As Emily puts her pajamas on, you flop down in bed, still in your towel.

"I'm so tired," you whine out dramatically.

“Too tired to open the closet door?”

“Mhm,” you respond.

She smiles and shakes her head, getting your pajamas and tossing them beside you. 

You give her a pout. “You’re not going to help me put them on?”

As usual, she can’t resist you, so she helps you put on your pajamas, even though you both know you could do it yourself.

“You’re such a baby,” she says with no real malice. She lays down in bed and pulls the covers up.

You follow, getting under the covers and snuggling into her side. Despite her earlier tauntings, she smiles at your cuddly state, wrapping her arms around you. 

She reaches one arm to the bedside, turning off the lamp and plunging your room into a blanket of darkness. 

“Goodnight, Em” you say sleepily, resting your head on her chest.

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams,” she says, planting a kiss on your forehead. 

And as you drift off, in a bed much more comfortable than the ones at the hotels you stay in during cases, you sleep better than you ever did before you shared a bed with Emily.

[littleslaywrites]

thunderstruck | spencer reid x reader 

summary: you’re an nfl cheerleader, and your boyfriend, spencer, is your biggest fan.

word count: 1.4k

cw: fluff, post season 15

Spencer was a busy man. Even after he took his sabbatical, his time was taken up by his work as a professor. You understood that he couldn’t always come to your games. He spent many a Sunday lecturing somewhere. 

But when he was free? He went all out. Garcia had ordered him a shirt with one of your pictures on it. Embarrassing, yes, but he was too sweet for you to be truly self-conscious. 

The two of them are your biggest fans. You didn’t know Spencer when he was still at the BAU, but you knew how much Garcia had been there for him. And with her leaving the Bureau after Spencer, she had more than enough time to travel to see you at your games.  

Spencer had always been your biggest supporter. From the moment you auditioned, he was right by your side. He filmed the video you sent in, listened to your rants after every rehearsal, helped stretch out your sore back after long practices. He even tried to help you improve your weak spots in routines, but always ended up just staring at you, having no good critiques with how enraptured he was with everything you did. 

You’re in the locker room, coating your curls in a thick layer of hairspray when you get a text. It’s Garcia, sending you a picture of Spencer with a shaker in his hand and his obnoxious shirt with your face on it. You can’t help but smile softly, seeing how cute he looks in his outfit. You’re more than aware he’s not a fan of these large crowds, but he still makes the journey for you. 

As you stretch, you can’t help but remember how excited Spencer was for you when you first made the team. He insisted on taking you out to dinner, telling everyone he saw about the special occasion. You were the one who’d achieved a dream you’d had since you were a little girl, but somehow it seemed he was even more proud than you were. 

You roll your tights on, double checking your makeup before you put on your uniform. As always, you take a quick picture to send to Spencer. 

Wow, is his reply, as usual. Whenever he sees a picture of you, his head gets a little lighter. He can’t believe his life, that his girlfriend is so gorgeous, that you’re his. 

He’s staring at his phone, and Garcia has to pull his arm to keep him from blocking the walkway. 

The two of them settle in their seats. Spencer knows nothing about football, even though he could learn if he wanted to. It’s not like it matters, considering he’s busy watching you the whole time. 

For some reason, you’re always slightly more nervous when Spencer’s in the crowd. You know you could fall flat on your face and he still would think you were the greatest dancer on earth, but you wanted to do well for him. And as many times as you perform, you’ll always feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you prepare to walk out. 

As you and your teammates line up in the tunnel, you try to locate Spencer and Garcia. You’d think it’d be easy to see them in their loud outfits, but in the sea of people, it was difficult. 

As you enter the field and perform your first routine, you can swear that you can hear the two of them cheering the loudest. You can picture them now: Spencer staring reverently as Garcia films you. Spencer never films, stating he wants to enjoy the moment, but you know he would end up watching the videos Garcia sent him in the future. 

It’s not until the game starts and you’re in one corner of the sideline when you see the two of them. During a quiet moment, you hear your name from the crowd, and you look up to see them cheering loudly. You smile, waving you poms at them. 

Garcia is taking picture after picture. Spencer will eventually print them out, adding them to the large photo album he’s kept of all your pictures from this season. He likes to flip through them and show you his favorites, explaining exactly what makes the pictures so great. They’re not artfully composed or anything, but he pretends he has other reasons for liking them other than the fact he thinks you’re pretty. 

For each quarter, you rotate corners of the sideline. Spencer follows, of course. He stands as close as he can, waving every now and then, as if you could forget he was there. His smile is obvious from where he stands, eyes not leaving you once. 

By the fourth quarter, you’re back on the original side, and Spencer is back in his seat. The rest of the game passes quickly, and once you’re done on the sidelines, you hustle into the locker room, quickly changing into shorts and a tank top. You hang up your uniform and throw everything into your bag, hurrying out to the spot where you always meet Spencer after a game.

He’s standing right where you expect him. You run up, wrapping him into a hug. It doesn’t get past Spencer that he gets some jealous stares from other men. And he’d never admit it, but a bit of pride swells in his chest every time he gets one of those pointed looks. 

“How was it?”

“Amazing,” Spencer replies. “But you’re always amazing.”

You smile, arms still around him. 

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and the adrenaline of the game melts away. You know you’re a bit sweaty, and smell like hairspray, but Spencer either doesn’t mind or is too obsessed with you to care. 

Garcia excitedly flips through the pictures on her phone. “Reid might be the one who knows about physics, but I think your kicks were actually defying gravity.”

You laugh softly. “Thanks, Pen. You’re the best hype woman ever.”

“It’s hard not to be,” Spencer says. “The other teams are lucky you’re not playing quarterback as well.”

“You don’t know what a quarterback does at all, do you?”

“No. And I don’t care to find out. I’m too busy watching the real show.”

“Ugh,” Penelope says. “You two are sickly sweet.”

You and Spencer say goodbye to Garcia, and head out of the stadium. The walk to the parking lot is crowded, and Spencer would usually be averse to all the people, but he feels safe by your side. 

He glances over at you, a small smile on his face. “I got that photo of you mid-jump printed out yesterday. Your hair is flying all around you. You look like an angel.”

You blush slightly at his words. “You’re too sweet, Spence.”

“It’s true. Sometimes I think I’m dreaming. There’s no way my girlfriend is so incredible.”

“You’re not dreaming. And besides, you’re not too bad yourself.”

It’s his turn to blush. “Anyway, I think that picture is going on the front of the album.”

“Not the one where I’m smiling at you from the sidelines?”

“No. That one’s in my wallet.”

You stop walking to face him, overwhelmed for a moment by his love for you. His eyes are so full of love, pure and simple. 

“I missed you this week. You haven’t even had time to tell me all about your lessons.”

“I will later. My head’s still swimming from watching you perform.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesy comment, even though you secretly love when he says things like that. 

You get in the car, and arrive at the diner you always end up at. You share fries and dip them in your milkshakes— yours is cookies and cream, his is chocolate.

You get glances because of his obnoxious shirt, but you’re too busy giggling with him to care. You exchange stories of your weeks. You tell him about practice, and he shares stories of his students. 

After a moment, he clears his throat. “You know, you may be the cheerleader, but I’ll never stop cheering for you.”

You smile widely. “Did you spend the whole game putting that line together?”

“Maybe.”

And even though it’s corny as can be, it still makes you blush. Maybe because it comes from Spencer. Or maybe because you know it’s true. 

a/n: somehow i haven't seen the dcc netflix doc yet but i religiously watched making the team back in middle school. i actually did dcc workshops back in 2020 when everything was online and seeing all the tik toks of the doc had me wishing i still danced. anyway do we want a part 2? bc i have ideas.

[littleslaywrites]

it's out!

can someone PLEASEE write a biting fanfic abt my main man aaron hotchner I need to bite his bicep like an apple

[littleslaywrites]

no bark, all bite | aaron hotchner x reader

nsfw, mdni 

summary: you can’t help but bite Aaron when he wears a short sleeve shirt. 

word count: 1.8k

cw: smut, biting (all aaron receiving), unprotected sex, f!reader, holy moly his arms in that gif

based on this post by @l1v1ngz0mb1e

It had been difficult to get used to seeing Aaron out of his suits. Not in a bad way, not at all. But it was difficult to behave yourself when he wore those polo shirts that revealed just enough of his biceps to make your mouth water. 

That’s not to say his suits didn’t reveal a lot. You’d noticed recently his button ups clung to him tighter than usual. A good girlfriend would buy him a size up, but you wouldn’t dream of it. You enjoyed it too much when he’d take off his suit jacket and you could see the seams practically bursting as his muscles flexed beneath his shirts. 

But it was even better when you could see the skin, the veins, the hair on his arms. It was the complete picture, all that you imagined when his long sleeves were covering him. And somehow, it felt even more erotic to get a glimpse of him from beneath a short sleeve shirt than to actually see him shirtless. 

He truly was very distracting. Every day, you wondered how any of his coworkers were able to get anything done while he was around. 

And here you are again, trying to focus on the task at hand while all you can think about is his arms. It was a Friday night, Jack was at a sleepover, and Aaron had invited you over. You’d had dinner at his house, simply enjoying the company, and forcing yourself to not stare at his biceps. 

Your dinners at home are always casual, as Aaron wants to get out of his suits as much as he can and wear something more comfortable. 

(You can relate to wanting to get him out of his suits, although in a different way.) 

Tonight, he answered the door in track pants and a t-shirt. When he opened it, you instantly knew you’d have trouble keeping your eyes off of him. But you smile as normally as possible, setting the wine down on the counter. 

Once your hands are free, he wraps you in a hug, and you can’t help but focus on the strength of his arms around you. You can feel his muscles squeezing your sides, and you almost feel bad that you’re objectifying so hard. You know the tight hug is simply his way of comforting himself, releasing the stress of his job, but it almost makes your eyes roll back as you feel how tight his grip is.

He pulls back, his hands on your shoulders, leaving his biceps right in your sight line. He says something you don’t even hear, and when you nod mindlessly, he leads you to the table. 

You eat dinner, listening to him talk about work. And every time he takes a sip of his water, the sleeve of his shirt pulls up, giving you an even better view. You manage to focus on his stories, even though half your brain power is being used to keep your eyes from drifting. 

After dinner, you end up on the couch, sitting side by side. You might have eaten already, but the sight of him in that shirt is making you want something else to chew on.  His arm wraps around you as he nuzzles into your neck. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, kissing your pulse point gently. 

“Missed you, too,” you say, your hands moving to squeeze his arm. Your grip tightens as he continues to trail kisses along your neck, until he pulls back. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but you lean forward, taking his bicep in between your teeth and biting down before he can speak. 

“Hey!”

You pull back, a grin on your face. “Got you.”

“What was that for?”

Your index finger rubs circles onto the area with the small indents that are slowly disappearing. “You just looked… biteable.”

He raises an eyebrow in fake indignation. “Biteable?” 

You nod, pushing his sleeve up more to bite him again, this time probably harder than you should. 

He hisses softly, staring down at the way his arm turns red in the shape of your teeth as you pull away. 

You almost tell him he’s asking for it with the shirt he’s got on, dressed like an absolute whore in that gray t-shirt, but get distracted by the skin he’s showing. 

You take his wrists, pulling his arm up to your mouth. You bite his upper arm again, then move down, biting from his bicep to his forearms. Each time, you nip a bit harder, slowly getting addicted to the feeling of his skin pulling between your jaws. 

You take extra care when you reach that vein on his forearm, tracing it with your tongue before taking it in your mouth, gnawing on him like a puppy with its favorite chew toy. 

“Stop that,” he says with no real fire behind his words. It’s what he always says when he wants something but is too embarrassed to admit it’s turning him on— as if you can’t feel the hardness forming beneath his pants. 

“No,” you say, eliciting a small laugh from Aaron. 

You nip at his neck, getting him right in that spot you know he likes, so he doesn’t argue when you slip his shirt off and push him down on the couch. 

You graze your teeth from his collarbone to his chest, biting on the flesh of his peck. He gives a groan in response as you lick the spot to soothe it. 

He nearly whines your name as you slide off his pants, then take his underwear off. When you gaze down at him, it becomes clear he’s enjoying it more than he lets on. 

“I just want to nibble on you,” you say as you nip at his hip bone.

“I thought you said you were full after dinner,” Aaron says breathlessly, a hand tangling in your hair. 

“You’re my dessert.”

You bite his thigh, hard enough that you know it’ll leave a mark tomorrow. The supple flesh of his thighs squeeze between your teeth, and you feel the dampness pooling in your underwear as you taste his skin. 

“Baby,” he says, gently tugging on your hair to get you to look at him. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re being a tease.”

You giggle, taking your shirt off. His large hands immediately go to your back, unhooking your bra. He pulls you into a deep kiss, and you unzip your jeans as he tongue slips into your mouth. When he pulls back, you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, letting it pull before you release him. 

You hurriedly slip your pants off, straddling him. “You just look delicious. I could eat you up.”

He gives a chuckle, hands going to your hips. “My little vampire.”

You smile in response, shifting above his length, grasping the base of it and guiding yourself down. 

You both tilt your heads back as you slowly sink onto him, breaths becoming more rapid. 

Once he bottoms out, you lean down, giving his neck a love bite. When you pull back, it’s clear that you’ve bitten him hard enough that he’ll have to hope there’s no case over the weekend to give the bruise time to heal before he has to face his coworkers again. 

He gives your hip two gentle taps, signaling you to start moving before he does it himself. You take the cue, slowly riding him. It’s not lost on you that his muscles flex every time your walls flutter. In fact, you make a point to deliberately squeeze him, just like your teeth were squeezing him earlier. 

Usually, you’re watching his face, focused on the way his eyelids flutter. But tonight, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his biceps flex as he grips your hips, the movement of the muscles emphasizing the bite marks you’ve littered along his body. 

You place a hand on his chest for leverage, bouncing faster as his groans spur you on. You will always be grateful that he’s let loose with you, giving himself permission to be vocal beneath your touch. You reward his sounds with your own moans, desperate as you feel every inch of him filling you up. 

You get carried away as you gaze at his build, losing rhythm in your distracted state of mind. You don’t even notice his whimpers go from pleasured to depreciate until he can’t resist any longer and starts to buck up into you. 

“So good,” you whimper out. 

“I know,” he says, fingers digging into your hips. You know it’ll leave an imprint, but it’s only fair after what you've done to mark him up. 

He’s pressing into you deep enough that it reaches your brain, thoughts going blank as you mindlessly meet his thrusts. 

As he starts to lose control of his hips, your walls clamp around him, coaxing him into filling you up. 

You’re back arches as you fall over the edge, the wetness of your release dripping down your thighs and onto his. 

The feeling of you coming around him has Aaron quickly following, his eyes glued to your chest as your back arches. His hips stutter as he gives one last deep thrust, painting your insides white. 

He gently pulls you down to rest on his chest, hugging you tightly to help you come down for your high. As he wraps his arms around you, your eyes are drawn to his muscles again, your hazy mind still having enough power to seek out his arms. 

You wrap your arms around his forearm, nuzzling into his upper arm. 

“You’re really obsessed with me tonight, aren’t you?” He says it teasingly, flexing as a half-joke. 

You take the opportunity to bite him again, not releasing him for a good few seconds. 

“Are you staying like that all night?”

You hum around him, opening your jaws even further to take more of him in your mouth. 

He laughs softly, patting your back. “You’ve gotta let me go eventually.”

You sigh around him, eventually releasing him and laying your cheek down on your chest, his peck right in view for you to admire the teeth marks you’d left. You trace it gently, proud of your work. 

“You know, it’s not nice to act like a teething puppy while your boyfriend is at your mercy.”

You giggle. “Then you shouldn’t be so biteable. I could chew on you all night.”

“You’re so cute I might let you.”

You snuggle even closer to him. “Besides, what’s so wrong about appreciating my big, strong man?”

Aaron rolls his eyes, even though he can’t help but blush at your words.

As he holds you tighter, you feel content, not even tempted to bite him as you watch his arms. At least, for now. And as Aaron falls asleep with you on top of him, he has a looming suspicion that his wake up call (and your breakfast) tomorrow will be the pressure of your teeth around his bare arm. 

[littleslaywrites]

okay I’m writing it!! it’ll be out late tonight

can someone PLEASEE write a biting fanfic abt my main man aaron hotchner I need to bite his bicep like an apple

[littleslaywrites]

Perhaps this should be my next fic because I need to chew on him so bad

can someone PLEASEE write a biting fanfic abt my main man aaron hotchner I need to bite his bicep like an apple

[littleslaywrites]

not to do shameless self promo but if you guys are on tik tok I post cm content! I do edits and other fun stuff so I’d love for you guys to check it out🫶

[littleslaywrites]

puppy love | aaron hotchner x reader

summary: for your anniversary, you surprise Aaron with the puppy he always wanted. 

word count: 1.4k

cw: fluff, mentions of hotch’s childhood

You knew Aaron was a private man. His private life was always private, even to his team. That’s why you felt so privileged that he let you in on his secrets. You knew him best, as he always said. You’re the only person who knows about his home life, his past, his childhood. 

His life growing up was the last of the things he shared with you. You were more than aware nobody else knew all that he told you. He’d always wanted to be seen as strong, which is why it took so long for him to tell you about his childhood. But when he did, things started to make sense.

His upbringing taught him to be emotionless, stoic, hardened, all the things he was at work but not at home. And it was why he was so intentionally gentle with Jack. 

You knew you couldn’t change the abuse he endured. But there were some things you could help with. For example, you could treat him gently, allow him to not always be the strong one. You could give him what he never got, and both emotionally and materially. 

He’d told the story in passing, on one of your walks through the park. You stopped to pet a dog, and he mentioned he’d wanted one as a kid, but his dad never let him. He said that, even if he even had gotten one, he had a feeling his father would’ve mistreated it. 

Like a lot of his stories, he told it like it was nothing. He was always casual when he opened up. Maybe it was his defense mechanism, maybe the things he endured had become normal to him.

But you knew it meant something to him. So you filed the story away in the back of your mind for later. And it became useful when you were figuring out what his anniversary gift would be. 

You were at a loss after a whole month of trying to think of a gift. You never knew what to get him, because he always said something corny about you marrying him being a gift enough for the rest of his life. But you wanted to spoil him back, as a repayment for always spoiling you. 

You were driving past the local animal shelter when you had the bright idea to give him a puppy. Maybe it was crazy, but knew he’d always wanted one, and you could just picture how good he’d look with a dog in his arms. 

So when you got home, you scoped out the house, deciding the fence was sturdy enough, and secretly ordered everything you needed to bring his gift home. As the packages came, you hid them behind all your shoes in the closet, knowing he’s always in such a hurry that he hardly looked at his own clothes when he chose them in the mornings. 

The days leading up to your anniversary, he was away on a case, meaning it was the perfect opportunity for you to scope out the shelter. You’d looked at dog after dog, trying to decide which one would be perfect for him. You thought maybe a German Shepherd, but you didn’t want it to remind him too much of the dogs he saw at work. And it had to be one that’d get along with Jack, and it absolutely had to be cute. You’d picture each one being carried by Aaron, trying to figure which would be the most adorable. 

You eventually settled on a Bernese Mountain Dog. All the practicalities you’d been calculating went out the window when the dog ran right up to you, licking your hand. So you brought the puppy home, introducing it to your home as you waited for Aaron to get back from work. 

When the door opened, you closed the door to your room, walking into the entryway with a grin on your face. 

“Hi, honey,” you say, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” he says back. “Sit. Let me get your gift.” 

You smile, sitting down on the couch as he goes to the storage closet beside the kitchen, bringing out a wrapped gift. 

“It’s a little basic, but I thought you’d like it.”

You open it up, the tissue paper revealing a small box with a dainty necklace in it. “It’s beautiful, Aaron.”

“I saw it when we were on a case, and it reminded me of you. Here, let me put it on you.”

You hold up your hair as he drapes it around your neck. 

“It looks great on you.”

“Thank you. It’s your turn now,” you say, getting off the couch. 

He laughs softly. “Someone’s eager.”

You just grin at him, and walk into your room, holding the puppy behind your back as you walk into the living room. 

“What have you got there?”

“Your gift,” you say, trying to quell the dogs squirming. “So, a while ago you told me a story.”

“I tell you lots of stories.”

“Yeah, but this one gave me an idea.”

He raises an eyebrow. “An idea?”

“Right. An idea. Because I wasn’t sure what to get you, until I remembered the story.”

“Just show me what you’ve got, honey.”

You give him a wide smile as you pull the puppy from behind your back. Aaron’s jaw goes slack. 

“Is that…”

You nod. 

“You got me a puppy?”

“I did. I knew you always wanted one.”

“I have. I’ve always…” he trails off, slowly walking over to you. “Can I hold it?”

You nod, placing it in his arms. The picture is nothing short of adorable, the small dog in his big arms. 

He looks down at it. “I can’t believe it.”

The puppy licks his face, causing the two of you to giggle. “I think he likes you,” you say. 

He pets the dog with his large hand, more gentle than anyone who didn’t know him well could imagine he could be. 

“He’s perfect,” Aaron says quietly. “Thank you, honey.”

“You don’t have to thank me. He’s as much for me as he is for you.”

He nods, and you know his eyes are trained on the puppy to hide the dampness pooling in them. 

“I’ve always wanted one,” he says softly, letting the dog lick his hand.  

“He’s so cute in your arms. I could watch you like this forever.”

“I would hold him forever, but then I wouldn’t be able to hold you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You just put me in a sentimental mood.”

The two of you sit down on the couch, Aaron not releasing his grip on the dog. If his thoughts weren't so consumed by his gift, he would have the sense to change out of his suit so he doesn't get fur on it. But he's too busy smiling down at the puppy, and even if he did think to change, he would rather make a run to the dry cleaners than put the dog down for even a moment.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he says. “I’ve wanted a dog since I was a boy. And you finally gave it to me.”

“I know. I’m glad I could give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“You always do. You’re perfect.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “I just like seeing you happy. You deserve it.”

The two of you sit in silence, just letting the moment linger. 

“I must’ve been in kindergarten the first year I asked for a puppy for Christmas. My dad always told me no. He said I could hardly take care of myself, so there was no chance I could take care of another living creature. And I stopped asking when I was 12. He was cruel enough to me. I couldn’t imagine bringing a helpless animal into that.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You always say that. And you know you don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah. But you didn’t deserve that.” 

He sighs, watching as the puppy gnaws on his fingers. “I know.”

You fall back into silence. The puppy's small pants and excited sounds fill the room. Aaron and the dog seem to both be obsessed with each other, the dog licking and jumping on him, and Aaron gently petting it's fur as he studies it like a work of art.

Aaron breaks the silence again. “This really is the best anniversary gift you could’ve gotten me.”

You smile. “I’m glad. I also bought stuff to make steak.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You stand, taking in the way he looks down at the dog, eyes full of affection. “I’ll get started on dinner. You keep an eye on the puppy.”

“I will,” he says, a boyish grin on his face. “You better believe I will.”

As you walk to the kitchen, watching your husband and your new puppy, your smile gets even wider. Even though you have a feeling the dog might be replacing your spot as his best friend. 

[littleslaywrites]

normalize shipping both hotchniss and jemily

[littleslaywrites]

first name basis | aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: the team comes over to your place for dinner, and your secret relationship with aaron becomes not so secret. 

word count: 1.7k

cw: fluff, alcohol consumption, yes i know i wrote something similar in january and I didn’t realize it felt familiar until like halfway but here it is anyway because i like the premise

For once, you didn’t have a case on a Friday night.

You’d moved into a new place a few months ago, and you’d been trying to get the team over for dinner since then. But just like everything else in your life, the plans had been interrupted by case after case. 

But today, you had a free evening. So after work, you went to the grocery store, preparing for dinner with the team. You'd laid out the ingredients, breaking in the kitchen with your first real feast in your new apartment.

And after a few hours, you hear a knock on your door. It’s Penelope and Morgan, and throughout the next half hour, the rest of the team follows suit. 

“This is an amazing apartment,” Emily says, looking around. 

“Thanks. I’m just glad somebody could see it,” you say, opening the wine Rossi had brought and handing Emily a glass. “It's been two whole months without anyone on the team having time to come look.”

Really, that’s not the truth. There had been one team member who’d come to visit you. Quite often, actually. Aaron had visited you at any moment he could find between late nights at work. He’d become familiar with the place, knowing what’s in every cabinet and behind every door. 

He shows up last, staying behind at the office to complete paperwork, as usual. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he changed before getting here, wearing a polo and jeans instead of his usual formal suit. Unfortuately, you can't let your gaze linger on his arms, knowing you have to behave while the team has their eyes on you.

He’s brought a case of beer, knowing you well enough to be aware you’d like it more than wine. You smile as casually as possible, putting it in the fridge before checking the oven. 

Aaron stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “Need help with anything?”

“Would you mind setting the plates on the table?”

He nods, opening up the cabinet to grab dinner plates. 

Rossi doesn’t miss this exchange, watching as Aaron opens up the cabinets. 

“How’d you know where the plates were, Aaron?” 

Hotch gives Rossi a look, silently telling him to stop profiling him. “Lucky guess,” he deadpans. 

“Lucky guess,” Rossi repeats, taking a sip of his wine. 

You refuse to make eye contact, awkwardly pretending to be busy with mixing up a salad. You can feel Rossi’s eyes on you, but you hope that if you just focus on that salad, all the tension will disappear. 

“It’s so well-lit in here,” JJ says from the living room. 

“Isn’t it? That’s why I chose the unit on the corner.”

Spencer chimes in. “South facing, too. Statistically speaking, it improves mood levels during winter months.”

“Too bad you can’t see the sunrise, though,” Aaron chimes in as he finishes setting the plates down. 

Rossi raises an eyebrow. You know you can brush it off by saying anyone would know you can’t see the sunrise if your apartment faces the South. You will admit it’s a suspicious comment, though, especially for someone who's already scrutinizing your behavior. 

You meet the rest of the team in the living room, taking two beers from the fridge, one for you and one for Aaron. Your hands touch when you give it to him, and even though your heart flutters, you turn back around and give your attention to the group. You're trying to play it as cool as possible, even though you're sure you’re failing. 

The team falls into conversations about anything but work, enjoying the night of finally not being surrounded by gruesome scenes. The group being in your living room is starting to make the house feel like home. 

After a few more minutes, the timer on your phone goes off, and you set the main dish on the table. Emily helps bring out the sides, laying everything out. 

“Dinner’s ready,” you call out, and everyone sits down, serving up the food. 

The smooth flow of the conversation is interrupted by Morgan’s voice. “So are you planning to stay the night, Hotch?”

You give him a sideways glance, trying not to show the internal heart attack you’re having. “Hm?”

“Well, he’s had two beers. Usually he has half of one because he’s all responsible and crap.”

You laugh it off, realizing you’re not caught. “Maybe he’s just letting loose for once.”

“I won’t complain,” Emily says. “Let's hope he’ll be less grumpy come Monday.”

The team all laughs. You let out a small sigh of relief, hoping that’s the end of the questioning for tonight. Obviously, Rossi will have something to say, but at least he won’t call you out in front of the whole team. 

At some point between dinner and dessert, a glass gets knocked over, spilling wine onto the floor. 

“I’ll get the mop,” Hotch says, going to the broom closet.

“Thanks,” you say as you set the glass upright. You don’t notice the look Emily and Derek give each other when he returns with a bucket and mop. 

Emily speaks up when you start to mop up the spill. “Did you profile the apartment to know where to find that?” 

Hotch looks at her. “Maybe.”

It’s not a good excuse, but at least they’re distracted by their own conversation. You set the mop back in its bucket by the kitchen, washing your hands to get ready to serve dessert. 

“Aaron, will you get the cake from the fridge?” You don’t even notice you use his first name, or that Garcia perks up at your words. 

“Wait,” Penelope says with a gasp. “Wait, wait, wait.”

You set the plates for dessert on the table. “Wait for what?”

“The sitting together on the jet, and the knowing where the mop is, and her calling you by your first name,” Penelope says. “I’m connecting the dots here.”

Aaron is currently standing behind you, holding the lemon cake as awkwardly as humanly possible, tension evident in his shoulders while his feet stay stuck to the spot. 

“I’m no profiler, but you two… are you…?”

JJ looks over at Aaron at that. “No way.”

The two of you simply stand there, frozen to the spot, knowing you can’t deny it any longer but unsure of how to fess up. 

Rossi gives a chuckle. “It’s about time.”

Emily gasps, lowering her wine glass. “Seriously?”

You look to Aaron, who gives you the most minuscule of nods. You nod back with a small sigh. 

“Yeah. Seriously.”

Spencer almost drops his fork at that. “How long?”

“About seven months,” Aaron answers. 

The table almost erupts at the revelation.

 “Seven?” Emily sets down her glass so she can fully focus on getting all the information out of you. “How didn’t we notice?”

“I knew it. He’d always look just slightly less grumpy when she was in the room,” Garcia adds. 

JJ looks at you. “How did you hide this from us for so long?”

“We didn’t mean to,” Hotch says. “We just didn’t want to make things complicated for the team.”

He finally moves, setting the cake down on the table. You take that as your cue to sit down, the two of you joining the rest of them at the table. 

“You two forget who you work with,” Rossi says with a smirk. “We’d figure it out eventually.”

Aaron reaches for your hand under the table. You almost forget you don’t have to hide anymore, but then you take it, knowing it doesn’t matter if everyone sees. 

Emily smiles, holding up her glass. “Well, cheers to you two, for being the best secret keepers on the team.”

“And cheers to Hotch, for finally getting a date,” Morgan adds as you all clink glasses. 

The team laughs as Aaron gives him a look.

“What? I’m still processing the fact that Hotch has a dating life,” Morgan says as he takes a sip. 

You all laugh again, and the team falls into asking all the questions in the world about your relationship while eating dessert.

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen, drying the dishes you just washed while the rest of the team chats in the living room. You feel a hand on your lower back, instantly knowing it’s Aaron’s. 

You turn around, meeting his eyes. 

“You handled that well,” he says.

You lean back against the counter. “You weren’t too bad yourself. Once you got over yourself and stopped being frozen in place.”

He laughs softly. “I know, I know. I was trying to hide behind the cake, I guess.”

You giggle, drying your hands. “It had to come out eventually.” 

“I was hoping for later. Maybe next year. Or next decade.”

“Yeah. But better here than in the middle of a case.”

He nods, taking your hand. “I think Rossi’s been onto us for weeks now.”

“I think he was onto us that morning you brought me coffee and said it was ‘from my favorite place.’”

He hums, and you look into his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“I don’t like hiding you,” he says, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It was nearly impossible to pretend not to be in love with you all the time.”

You freeze for a second, tilting your head. “That’s the first time you've said that.”

“I mean it.”

He gazes at you, as steady as he always is. “I know. I mean it.”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

The corners of his mouth curve into that small smile that hardly anyone but you gets the privilege of seeing. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

Behind you, you hear a squeal that could only come from Penelope. 

“Oh my god, you two are so cute,” she exclaims. 

“We’re never hearing the end of this, are we?”

You wrap your arms around him. “Nope.”

But as the laughter of the team fills the apartment, you’re not even close to embarrassed at the revelation in the way you’d expected to be. You’re happy, excited that the team is just as excited about your love as the two of you are. And as Aaron wraps his arms around you, you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything but joy. 

author's note: ignore that this is like the same story i've written before just in a new setting. anyway i will get to requests but i've been in such a fluffy mood and all of them are smut/angst but i promise i will get over this writer's block and start working on them.

[littleslaywrites]

Jennifer Jareau Masterlist

working it out*: (jemily fic) the missing scene of how emily and jj “made up” in 18x05. (2.7k)

[littleslaywrites]

working it out | emily prentiss x jennifer jareau

nsfw, mdni

summary: the missing scene of how emily and jj “made up” in 18x05.

word count: 2.7k

cw: smut, slight angst at the beginning, fingering, oral sex, scissoring, heavy implication that jj and emily hooked up in paris, a few cme spoilers, short scenes from 18x05 needed for context are included for anyone who doesn't watch cme but still wants to read

“Emily and I are friends. We worked it out. And when we landed in Cleveland–”

“Wait. How did you two work it out?”

“It’s not important.” 

“It might be.”

“It really isn’t.”

In truth, JJ didn’t want to tell Dr. Ochoa for another reason. It was important. Maybe. She thinks it was important. It sure felt important. 

Anyway, she didn’t tell her because it was too much to get into. Dr. Ochoa may know about Voit, the most recent cases, and her husband dying. But there’s a lot she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the twenty years of maybe something more than friendship, the glances that lingered a second too long, the brushes of each other’s hands that felt like a shock of electricity. 

And she sure doesn’t know about Paris. Nobody knows about Paris. Nobody but JJ and Emily.

But that’s not what this is about. Paris was a goodbye, a way to show Emily how much she’d miss her while she was away. But this? This was different. Not a goodbye, but a greeting of the person she could become. 

And they never talked about Paris when Emily got back. She had a feeling that they’d be talking about time one again. And again and again.

“JJ, come with me,” Emily said when JJ mentioned talking to the unsub that day. Furrowing her brow, she follows Emily into her office. She shuts the door behind her, leaving the two standing in the middle of the room.

“Absolutely not,” Emily says sternly.

“Emily, you can’t just–”

“I said no. You’re not ready, end of the story,” Emily says, and walks out of the office, leaving JJ to watch as she leaves. 

JJ almost calls out her name, but decides against it. Instead, she comes up with a plan. While the team talks in the conference room, JJ walks to the jet, closing herself in the small bathroom. She waits until she hears Emily’s voice to come out. 

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you,” JJ says, hiding her hands in the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Can you guys give us a second?”

The team gets off the jet, avoiding looking at the two women. JJ approaches Emily, hardly meeting her eyes.

“Okay, make your case,” Emily says with a small shake of her head. “Why are you coming?”

“Because I have to.”

“I need more than that.”

“Emily,” JJ says, in that charged way she saves for occasions like this, “you told me to prioritize myself, and that’s what I’m doing. I am prioritizing myself and I need to get back to work. Okay? I need it.”

Emily sighs, considering it for a second, before she relents, telling the team to get on the jet. The whole team, including JJ.

What JJ could do is tell Dr. Ochoa that the moment on the jet was their way of making up. But she knew Ochoa would say that it’s not an adequate way to make up. It would also be a lie.

Because the truth is that they didn’t make up until that night, when Emily knocked on the door of her hotel room. 

JJ was already in her pajamas, hair tied up from her earlier shower. It almost startled her to hear the two knocks, but the pattern was familiar, the same knock Emily always used to show it was her. She sighs, throwing the case file she’d been studying on the desk beside the bed. 

She opens the door, waiting for Emily to speak.

“May I come in?”

JJ nods, stepping to the side. She closes the door, crossing her arms as she waits for Emily to explain her visit. 

Clasping her hands in front of her, she sighs, meeting JJ’s gaze. “We have to talk about it.”

JJ purses her lips, looking down at her feet. “Look–”

“No, JJ, you have to think about yourself. This isn’t good for you.”

“And how would you know? You don’t understand how I feel, you could never–”

She freezes when Emily reaches out and grabs her arm.

They meet each other’s gaze, and there’s that feeling again, the same one that’s been chasing them for almost two decades now. JJ takes in a quick breath. If the room weren’t so silent, Emily wouldn’t have heard it. But she did.

Emily breaks the silence. “I know I can’t understand how you feel. But I want to.”

“You don’t want to, Emily. And I don’t want you to understand. Just let me do what I need to do.”

“Yes, I do,” Emily says firmly. “I’ve been your best friend for twenty years now. Can you just stop bottling it all up this one time?”

“Bottling it up?”

“Yes. You’re hiding from your feelings, just like you always do.”

“Oh, really? Like when?”

“I can think of a few times. Should we start with Paris?”

“Don’t, Emily.”

“I will, and I am. Because for twenty years now–”

“Stop,” JJ says, loud enough to actually make Emily listen. “Please, don’t do this right now.”

“Then when? Because you had an excuse for a while, but Will is gone, and you can’t keep running from this.”

“Don’t talk about him.” JJ pushes her hair back, pacing the room. “That’s not what this is about.”

“This is what it’s always been about. And you know that as well as I do.” 

JJ huffs, tilting her head to the side. She has nothing to say to that, because she knows Emily is right. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she says as she approaches Emily again, standing closer than before. 

“We’re talking about it. It has to happen.”

JJ looks right in her eyes. “No, Emily. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Oh.”

They stand frozen in place, waiting for the other to make the first first. JJ’s the one to step forward, and JJ’s hands instantly go to her face, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. 

In Paris, it was quick, the passion of a moment on their kisses. But this is slow, the passion of the last two decades all bursting at the seams. 

Time seems to stop for them, at least until Emily has to pull back to take a breath. She rests her head on JJ’s forehead, placing her hands on her lower back. 

“I’m sorry,” Emily says.

“What?”

“About how we’ve been treating you. How I’ve been treating you. I shouldn’t have told you what to do like that.”

JJ nods. 

“Can you forgive me?” 

“I can,” JJ says, “and I can think of one way that you can make it up to me.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

JJ’s grin says it without words. Emily grins back, going back in for another kiss. 

With a giggle, JJ pulls her over to the bed by her belt. In that moment, she’s glad Emily is still wearing her work clothes for an easy way to get her on the mattress— even if she’s sure it’d be pretty easy even if she didn’t have a way to physically pull her over. They both fall on the bed facing each other, legs tangling as they deepen the kiss. 

JJ rolls over so she’s straddling Emily’s lap. She quickly makes work of unbuttoning her shirt, pulling it off to reveal her bra. She greedily takes in the view, biting her bottom lip as her fingers trace the edge of her bra. 

She takes it off, reverently trailing her hands over Emily’s tits. It’s unusual to see Emily speechless, but all her words are gone as JJ trails her hands from her breasts to the waist of her pants, taking her belt off. 

She runs her thumb along the skin just above the waistband, inadvertently teasing Emily. 

“Are you just going to stare, or are you going to take them off?”

Her comment has a small laugh leaving JJ’s lips, but she doesn’t argue, simply sliding her pants and underwear down her legs.

Again, JJ takes the time to just look at her. She didn’t have time to just look in Paris, but now she does. She has all the time in the world. 

Emily sits up, taking JJ’s oversized shirt off. JJ lets her, but then pushes her back to the bed. “You first. I’ve waited long enough to have you.”

Emily smiles, letting JJ push her down. “Whatever you say.”

JJ trails kisses from her collarbone until she reaches her hip bone. She kneels on the edge of the bed, hooking one of Emily’s legs around her waist. 

Her index finger goes to Emily’s core, slowly gathering down the wetness that’s starting to pool. 

“Pretty,” JJ murmurs. 

Emily writhes beneath her touches. She knows JJ doesn’t mean to tease, but she can’t help but want more as JJ explores her body. 

“JJ, please.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, finally pushing two fingers into Emily. 

Emily’s jaw drops, producing a low moan. A small smile plays on JJ’s face when she hears the sound, thrusting her fingers deeper. 

She leans down, giving her clit a tentative lick. When Emily moans again, JJ takes that as encouragement to keep it up. 

She lays on her stomach between Emily’s legs, trying to balance the motion of her tongue and her fingers. 

She’ll get more practice, Emily thinks, hoping this isn’t a one time thing. And from JJ’s enthusiasm, she’s pretty sure it won’t be. 

As Emily starts to wriggle her hips, JJ starts to have a harder time finding the balance between her mouth and hands. She decides to just work with her fingers, figuring she’s done it on herself enough times to transfer her skills to the other woman. JJ pulls back, just using her hands so she can completely focus. She studies Emily’s face, memorizing the spots that have her moaning the loudest. 

Her fingers find the spongy spot inside Emily, and she curls them. 

“Right there,” Emily says, hips bucking. 

“Here?” JJ curls her fingers again.

The motion makes Emily cry out, wrapping her other leg around JJ’s hips. JJ lets out a breath, smiling as she feels the clenching around her fingers. 

“Gonna come,” Emily whispers out. Usually she lasts longer, but something about finally getting JJ between her legs has her already on the edge. 

“Then come,” JJ says, working her fingers slightly faster. 

As usual, Emily can’t resist her words, falling over the edge. 

JJ is nothing short of mesmerized, watching intently as Emily’s core flutters around her fingers. She doesn’t even realize it when Emily starts whimpering from the overstimulation of being filled, at least until Emily grips her wrist to stop her. 

JJ takes the hint, hands coming to either side of Emily’s shoulders as she leans down for a kiss. Emily’s hands take her hair out of the messy bun before finding a home around her waist. 

She pushes JJ up so she’s on her knees, hovering. Emily slides her pants down, then guides her to hover over her face. 

“Sit,” Emily commands.

“Are you sure? I—“ 

“JJ, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

JJ laughs softly, eliciting a laugh from Emily. They both spend a few moments laughing, just savoring the moment, before Emily grips her hips, squeezing the soft flesh. 

JJ knows what she means, and sits down slowly, placing her hands over Emily’s. They lace their fingers together, JJ gripping her hands tighter when Emily’s mouth makes contact with her core. 

She lets out a small whimper, eyes rolling back. Emily’s tongue pushes into her, causing her to squeeze her thighs around Emily’s head. Emily can’t complain. Even if she suffocated, she’d die a happy woman. 

Emily only brings herself to unlace her fingers when JJ’s hips start to roll, grasping them to keep her in place. She can feel the muscles in JJ’s thighs flexing whenever her tongue brushes against her clit. She hums into JJ’s pussy, causing another whimper from the blonde. 

It’s clear to JJ that Emily’s had far more experience doing this than she does. Not that JJ minds, which is made obvious from the way her hand reaches to grip the hair of the girl beneath her. And she’s far from insecure about her inexperience. They’ve known each other too long to be shy around each other. Besides, she’s more than happy to volunteer for more lessons with Emily. 

After a few minutes of switching between circling her tongue around her clit and pressing it inside her heat, she hears JJ’s whimpers turn into moans. As her hips start to rock faster, more than her grip can stop, she knows she’s close. 

Her tongue works harder over her folds, coaxing her into her release. JJ grips the headboard, leaning forward as she comes. 

It’s a better view than Emily could’ve imagined even in her wildest dreams: JJ eyes are closed, mouth open as she cries out, leaning over Emily just so her breasts are right in her eye line. 

Emily moans into her, making JJ produce another whine. She rolls off of her, leaning back against the headboard. 

“You’re good at that,” JJ says through ragged breaths. 

Emily laughs softly, sitting up beside her. She leans in for another kiss. It starts softer, simply a gesture of appreciation for the pleasure, but it quickly turns heated again. 

Emily pushes JJ down on her back, and pulls one of her legs up. She leans back onto her elbows, slotting one leg beneath JJ’s as the other hooks around her thigh so their cores are pressed against each other. 

JJ sucks in a breath, hands gripping the sheets as she mindlessly starts to rut her hips against Emily’s. 

Emily moves with more purpose, rolling her hips so her pussy rubs against JJ’s. She can feel the wetness dripping down her thighs, and she doesn’t know if it’s hers or the blonde’s. Most likely, it’s a mix of both.

JJ’s back arches, displaying her tits perfectly for Emily’s view. Emily groans, planting the foot of her bent leg on the mattress so she has more leverage to rub against JJ. 

“God, Em.”

“I know,” Emily breathes out. 

JJ moves even faster, driven by the need for pleasure. Emily’s practiced motion goes out the window, matching JJ’s chase for release. 

They both lose themselves in their pleasure, rutting against each other with nothing on their minds but each other. Through it all, their heads keep looking up, searching for the other’s eyes. The room echoes with moans and cries of each other’s names. 

Eventually, JJ falls over the edge, collapsing from her elbows onto her back. The pulsing of her heat against Emily’s core has Emily following after her. 

Both women lay on their backs, legs still tangled as they try to catch their breaths. 

The first to recover is Emily, and she crawls over to JJ, lying beside her. JJ instantly rests her head on her chest, wrapping her legs around Emily’s thigh.

“Wow,” JJ says quietly. 

“Wow is right,” Emily says as she wraps JJ into a tight hug. 

“Would you ever… want to do that again?”

Emily smiles softly. “Very much so.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“I know.”

“Do you think… I’m betraying Will?”

“No. I think he���d want you to be happy. He got to make you happy for eighteen years. Now it’s my turn to take over. He would want someone to take care of you, knowing how our job is.”

JJ looks up at her, their eyes meeting for what must be the hundredth time that night. “Do you really think that?”

“I do. You deserve to be happy. You've lost too many people in your life to not have someone who stays. I want to be that person.” She pauses for a moment. “And I think you’ve loved me for too long to keep pretending you don’t.”

JJ goes silent, more than aware that her words are right. 

They lay in silence for a moment, content in the afterglow and heat that begins to fade as the moment goes on. 

“Have I made it up to you?”

JJ lets out a laugh. “Of course you have,” she says, snuggling impossibly closer. “And I’m going to hold you to this method the next time you have to make something up to me.”

“Please do.”

author's note: guys my first jemily fic omg! i'm delusionally convinced the are soft launching jemily and they'll be together by next season. anyway this was super fun to write so if anyone has any more jemily requests (or other characters) pls send them in 🫶

[littleslaywrites]

okay it's being written

and what if I wrote a jemily fic about that moment in 18x5 where jj avoided answering how she and emily “made up” bc my mind went places

[littleslaywrites]

and what if I wrote a jemily fic about that moment in 18x5 where jj avoided answering how she and emily “made up” bc my mind went places