#AND I WAS LIKE. THAT SOUNDS LIKE JJ!!! AND!!! THE WAY I SLAPPED MY HANDS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mayanneaa · 7 months ago

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hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

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mariasont · 1 year ago

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They Think I'm Pregnant - A.H

a/n: i feel like this is kind of shitty but alas here we are!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: the team thinks you're pregnant and you decide to have a little fun with it

warnings: reader is not preggers promise!, honestly the team gossiping is so lol, suggestive content per usual

wc: 1.3k

"I mean she has been kind of moody lately."

The gasp that rose in your surprise was quickly smothered as you pressed yourself against the wall, pushing into it as if that would make you invisible somehow.

"Well, interestingly enough, there has been considerable growth in her chest area. It's due to elevated levels of estrogen and progesterone, which I've noticed with her." Spencer stopped abruptly, the sound of Morgan's muffled laughter in the background. "I'm not saying I make a habit of such observations. Okay, um, don't tell Hotch I said that."

Casting a skeptical eye down your shirt, your frown deepened. Sure, your boobs had grown, but that was a testament to a little happy relationship weight, not the fodder of their theories.

"Nice one, kid," came Rossi's voice, and you could almost see the smirk on his face.

"Oh my gosh, guys, this is like, the best news ever! A mini-agent in the making! Can you imagine how cute she's going to be? I'm going to get her the cutest outfits!"

"Garcia, how do you know it's going to be a girl? Did the baby send you a text?"

The baby? Was rational thought absent among them? It must be. You crossed your arms defensively.

"Okay, maybe we should pump the breaks everyone. Why do we even think she's pregnant in the first place?"

JJ—your voice of reason. You could kiss the ground she walked on.

"I'm just putting two and two together. She walked out, and there was a pregnancy test in the trash that wasn't there before."

Your eyebrows drew down, and the increasing shuffle from the room prompted you to make a beeline for Hotch's office before anyone saw you snooping. But in your defense, Emily snooped first.

The moment the door clicked shut, you lunged for the blinds, bypassing any attempt at a greeting with Aaron. The blinds clattered shut, so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

"Honey, what are you—?"

His words hung unfinished as you whirled around, pressing your pointer finger to your lips as if he were a kindergartner about to walk down the hall.

"They think I'm pregnant!" you hissed indignantly, jabbing a finger toward the door as if it were a portal to the rumor mill itself.

His face drained of color as his eyes darted from your face, down to your stomach, and finally rested on your tits. "Are you?"

You slapped his shoulder. "No!"

"Then why do they think that?"

You recounted every piece of evidence they had collected, giving special attention to Spencer's bodily hypothesis as a subtle form of retaliation.

"He said what?"

You laughed, draping your arms around his neck as you made yourself at home on his lap. He leaned back in his chair, arranging you so your legs were stretched out across his lap.

"Focus," you said desperately. "They think I'm pregnant."

"Sweetheart," he chuckled, his hands finding their way to your waist. "Does it really matter what they're assuming?"

Your lower lip jutted out, fingers threading through your hair as you mulled it over.

"You're a genius." Your arms were around him in an instant once again, leaving a big, messy kiss on his cheek as you hopped down from his lap and strode towards the door.

Who cares if that's what they think?

So, you devoted your day to your greatest talent: stirring the pot. If they were set on believing you were pregnant, why should you interfere? Better yet, why not enjoy their theories and have some fun along the way?

You pulled every trick in the book.

In the morning, you bolted from the briefing room with a hand clamped over your mouth, you later reappeared, ginger ale and crackers in tow--which you knew JJ would understand. No one said a word.

In the afternoon, you turned up your nose when Emily offered you coffee, which in turn caused her eyes to bulge out of her head, but still she said nothing.

In the evening, you staged a sudden craving for the strangest of snacks, convincing Spencer of your dire need for pickles dipped in peanut butter. You sent him on a wild goose chase for it, and he did it, no questions asked.

All of these, as some would say--childish antics, lead to a big pile of nothing because no one was brave enough to just ask you.

So now that you were all gathered around Rossi's living room, with the day's efforts in vain, you were forced to drastic measures.

The wine glass was mere inches from your lips when the whole lot of them were up in arms--a blabbering, spiraling mess.

Garcia, her mouth a perfect 'o' of scandalized red, was quick to wrestle it from your grasp, hoisting it just beyond reach as Morgan promptly confiscated it, placing it atop the tallest bookshelf, as if you were a child meddling with contraband.

"What are you thinking?"

"Are you crazy?"

"What are you doing?"

"Hotch, do you see this?"

Their words bombarded you all at once, a rapid-fire of overlapping sentences that was impossible to decipher. A giggle escaped you, hand instinctively rising to your lips. Sure, you had braced for a reaction, but this was beyond anything you had imagined.

You played dumb, your head canting to one side as your brows contracted. "What?"

You basked in Aaron's exasperated eye roll, his hands coming together as if in prayer while he let you revel in the moment. He was a good man.

"What do you mean what? I love you so much, but you have to be out of your mind," Garcia probed, her hands clutching on to her necklace as she looked side to side at the others.

You opened your mouth, ready to provoke her further, but Spencer beat you to it.

"Given the potential impact on blood volume and plasma osmolality, it's really not advised to drink alcohol, considering your condition," he said, fidgeting with his tie while nodding to your belly.

"What condition?"

"Oh, come on! We found your pregnancy test in the trash today!" This time it was Emily speaking, her hands on her hips as she gave you a knowing glance. She quickly muffled her exclamation. "Hold on, you've told Hotch, right? If not, I'm prepared to get on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness if necessary."

"You all are ridiculous!" you declared, rising from the couch and moving toward your abandoned wine. Aaron was quicker, offering the glass to you. "I'm not pregnant, and if you nosy nellies had bothered to ask rather than speculate, you'd know that.”

You took a large gulp of your wine. For emphasis. Your colleagues' mouth hung agape, all but Rossi, who smirked and toasted to the absurdity with his whiskey.

"You heard us?"

"Reid, let's just say, I'd appreciate if you would reserve those observational talents for the case files, not on my girlfriend's anatomy," Hotch suggested, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric at your back as he casually sipped his scotch.

You watched Reid's complexion turn a spectrum of pink hues, his apology barely above a whisper as laughter bubbled around us.

"Wait so then whose pregnancy test did I find?" Emily's words caused a collective breath to catch, glances shifting suspiciously around the room.

JJ's hand shot up, laughing as Garcia barreled into her side, arms wrapping around her before she could even get the admittance out. The room buzzed with congratulatory cheers, everyone sharing hugs and kisses as JJ told the story.

Aaron chose that instant to lift his hand to his neck, his lips meeting yours in a kiss so gentle it turned your insides to jelly. He eased back, his breath mingling with yours as he mumbled, "you know, the idea of you pregnant...it's not something I'm opposed to."

You let out a soft giggle, nestling your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart bleeding into your ear. Your gaze drifted to your friends, toasting with raised glasses--minus JJ--with laughter and chatter filling the air.

"Is that so? Cravings, mood, boobs and all?"

You felt the rumble of his chuckle through his chest, the sensation tingling against your cheek. "All of it."

Rising onto your toes, you reached up to cradle his ear, lips grazing lightly against it. "How about we head home and practice? And then if you put a ring on it, I’ll consider it.”

That was the first time you had Irish goodbye-d a party.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotcher fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff

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h0useslut · 7 days ago

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chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us ✦︎

requests | masterlist

pairing : spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

w/c : 3,5k

warnings : nsfw! sexual explicit content, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, canon-level ANGST, profiling, crying after sex, daddy issues, spencer is a bit of an asshole

summary : spencer profiles reader to impress the new recruits, but takes it too far. after messy apologies and sharp words, he finally knows how to make it up to the one person he shouldn’t have let go.

a/n : ignoring my responsibilities to focus on spencer reid!

It was supposed to be a simple demonstration. A harmless example of profiling, to impress the new recruits and remind everyone why Quantico produced the best of the best.

More specifically, why boy genius Spencer Reid was always the smartest in the room.

You and Spencer joined the BAU almost at the same time - just a few months apart - and immediately clicked together.

He was awkward, spilling facts about anything and everything. Never in a way that made you feel small. If anything, he went out of his way to include you in conversations, like he remembered what it felt like to be on the outside looking.

In those early months, you were inseparable. Late night cases turned into quiet conversations in hotel hallways. You read next to each other on the jet. He brought you hot chocolate after a case particularly hit too close to home. You laughed. You listened.

But then he was arrested. He was in prison, gone from you in the blink of an eye.

You wrote to him, left voicemails. Checked in with Garcia more than you should. You remember asking more than once if you could see him. You missed him, so much.

You never got an answer from him.

But someone did.

It was Emily, or JJ. Someone close enough to him to get through the walls he built. Someone you trusted, until they came back from a visit and quietly pulled you aside.

It was Luke who’d told you. News travel fast don’t they? You’d said back.

“He said he doesn’t want you to come”

You remembered freezing. Blinking hard as if it was a joke. Luke had tried to soften it, saying that it’s better if you don’t see him like that - reassuring you that it was out of protection or shame. All you heard was that he didn’t want you.

So you stopped asking.

And when he came back? You didn’t run into his arms. You didn’t wait by his desk with coffee and a shaky smile. You gave space.

He called you once or twice throughout the day, till he stopped. Mostly because you ignored him.

It killed you to do it, but the space between you was so wide, so hollow - you could fall into it.

You told yourself you were over it. You could survive working with him 24/7 in the same space? Right? Losing your best friend shouldn’t be that bad. Or pretending that the memory of his voice in your voicemail inbox didn’t still echo sometimes.

But then came the morning when Emily paired you two up for a consult. Something low-stakes. Easy. Just the two of you and a briefing room that felt too quiet.

You could barely look at him. That’s what made him crack.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” he asked, trying to sound gentle.

You glanced up from your folder, brows raised as if he didn’t have the right to talk to you like that. “You said you didn’t want me, remember? I’m better off here”

Spencer looked like you’d slapped him. “That’s not-“

“Thats exactly what it was, Spencer” You cut in. “You didn’t want me to see you like that, so you shut me out. You didn’t even give me a chance”

His mouth opened, but you cut him off.

“I begged to see you. I begged, and I hoped and couldn’t sleep at night because I wanted- God, I needed to prove that you were innocent” You snapped. “And you told them that I wasn’t- I wasn’t welcome to see you”

The room went quiet. The only sound was the humming of the fluorescent lights above, sharp and cold - buzzing between you.

You were still clutching the case file like it would crawl out of your hands. If you let go, the floodgates would open.

Spencer stepped closer - approaching you like a wounded child.

“I thought I was protecting you” he whispered.

“Well” You said, breath hitching. “You didn’t”

Whatever words you exchanged that day were minimum. You avoided him like the plague.

But he searched for your eyes like a desperate man, trying to make everything alright. He wished he could change your mind - stop you from resenting him so much. This wasn’t his best friend he left before prison. You were slowly becoming a rival at work.

Fast forward to today - when the tension came to a head. You hadn’t expected him to choose you.

It was supposed to be something light, just to make the newbies get used to what was going on with the BAU.

You watched Spencer step forward, that familiar flicker of nerves in his hands. But he hid it well, launching into facts, psychology and how profiling is a science of empathy, not judgement.

His profiling methods on you were purely ill-mannered.

You blinked at him, your lips curving into the smallest of smiles. He didn’t smile back though.

His eyes flickered over you, scanning. You felt your shoulders tense, your body instinctively retreating.

“She dresses in soft tones. Usually blue or lavender. Non-threatening, comforting. Her jewellery looks inherited, not bought. Subtle, sentimental. She doesn’t like attention, but wants to be noticed”

The recruits chuckled, someone muttering a small “accurate”. You didn’t move.

“She bites her nails. Twitches the single scrunchie in her arm. Not out of nervousness, but out of guilt. Regret, maybe. Or shame”

Your heart almost gave out. The air grew tighter.

“She overcompensates with warmth. With kindness. Because if she keeps giving and not taking, no one will notice how afraid she is to ask for anything back”

You tried to look nonchalant. The faint sound of a few pens scribbling brought you back. Someone whispered “damn”. You felt as if he was stripping you bare - and not the good kind.

Emily motioned for him to stop, muttering a small “Too far.”

But he ignored it. He kept going.

“She has abandonment issues. Abandonment trauma, actually. Parental - maybe paternal. Textbook daddy issues. She’s used to being left behind, so she build bridges she knows people will burn”

Silence. Even the recruits were silent now.

Your breath hitched.

And then he said softer,

“She’s also grieving. Grieving a version of someone she lost a long time ago. Someone who let her down. Someone she let in and tore those walls down.”

It wasn’t a profile anymore. It was a confession.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood abruptly. “Excuse me”

You walked before anyone could stop you, before anyone put a half pitying half comforting hand on your shoulder and reassured you that it was okay. Because it wasn’t.

And outside, down the hall- behind the safety of the women’s restroom, you cried. Not because he was wrong.

Because he was right.

He used it anyway. Knowing what this meant to you.

He used your bruises to prove a point. That wasn’t the Spencer you remembered.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to get rid of any evidence that his words touched you. As if that would erase what happened. As if that would help you forget the way he looked at you while he did it. Not entirely with cruelty - but with understanding.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Y/N…?” Tara’s voice.

You hesitated, torn between hiding in silence or letting someone in. The door creaked open.

“I’m not here to make you talk” she continued gently. “Just wanted to let you know that what Spencer did out there, it wasn’t okay. You don’t have to pretend it was”

The tears came again, quieter this time - smaller, but somehow heavier. Because even though you were humiliated, you weren’t alone.

“He’s- He’s an asshole” You whimpered out, hand flying to your mouth. “I trusted him w-with these- these things, Tara” You sobbed, gesturing helplessly like it could make her understand the depth of what he’d used against you.

Tara let you cry it out, a warm hand on your shoulder to keep you grounded. She didn’t offer platitudes. She didn’t tell you to breathe or calm down. She just stayed.

Sometimes, that was enough.

When your sobs had died down and softened into quiet sniffles, Tara pulled you in for a hug.

“I thought he knew me” You murmured in her shoulder, voice shaking. “I thought- I thought if anyone did it, it would be him”

She sighed softly, rubbing your back. “He does. He does know you, Y/N. That’s why it hurts”

Eventually, you managed to pull yourself together. You dabbed your eyes with tissue, forced a weak smile when Tara squeezed your shoulder again, and promised her you were okay. Or at least, that you would be.

Back at your apartment, the air felt cold. Maybe it was just you. Or maybe it was the silence, pressing down on your chest the way Spencer’s words had hours ago. You tossed your bag down, hung your coat on a nearby chair, kicked off your shoes and stood in the middle of the room like you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

You didn’t bother with dinner. The tears had stopped, but the ache hadn’t. You curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown haphazardly over your lap, replaying everything. The sound of Spencer’s voice. The look in his eyes. The way he’d said things only he was supposed to know.

You hated that you still wanted to hear him apologise. Make up for everything that’s been said and done since the minute he was incarcerated.

And then you did. There was a knock on the door. A hesitant knock, as if the person on the other side shouldn’t be here.

It was Spencer. You knew it was him.

The knock came again. Firmer this time.

You hesitated. Maybe if you didn’t move- maybe if you stayed frozen he’d go away. Maybe he already knew you weren’t ready to face this.

But your feet had other plans. They carried you to the door before your brain caught up.

You opened it.

Spencer stood there, soaked from the rain that had just started minutes ago. His hair was a little messy, eyes desperate and uncertain.

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t answer. Just stepped aside and let him in.

He walked in slowly, taking in the space as if it were unfamiliar - like he didn’t know you always kept the small lights instead of the big ones, or that your favourite mug was on the cabinet above the sink, or that you always read cartoon illustrated romance books when you were feeling down. Like he hadn’t once known you like the back of his hand.

He took a tentative step forward, “Y/N…”

“You held me” you said, words slipping out like they’d been waiting all day. “You held me, when I was shaking. When- When I opened up to you about my “paternal issues’” You mimicked him, only this time your voice broke. “You held me and you told me I was safe.”

Spencer froze.

“You remember that?” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “After Gideon left. After everything with my dad. I told you what it felt like. And you- you said I wasn’t broken.”

You laughed, bitter and wet. “And now, you’re standing in front of a classroom, dissecting me like I’m just some example. ‘Textbook daddy issues’ right?”

Tears spilled again. Your chest heaved.

“I would’ve let you say anything.” You paused, noticing how his eyebrows quirked up. “If you were saying it to me. If we were alone”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You started crying in earnest now, breath hitching, and shoulders trembling. Spencer finally moved, not to explain it. Not to fix it.

To hold you just like he did - hoping he could fix this.

Only this time, you weren’t sure this would be fixed.

You didn’t mean to let it happen, not again at least. Maybe it was the way he stepped forward, touching your elbow to gather you in his arms. Nevertheless, your body betrayed you.

“Shh, sweetheart” He whispered, like he’d said it a thousand times before. Like the word never left his mouth during all those times apart.

You shook your head, trying to get away from his grip. “You don’t- You don’t get to call me that”

Before you could push him away, he had already pulled you in his arms.

Not tight, not desperate - just steady.

You let him. You let him put his hand on your head and rub your back soothingly. When your knees buckled, and you almost fell - Spencer caught you. He carried you to the couch, pulling you into his lap.

It wasn’t romantic. Not yet. It wasn’t seductive. But it felt safe.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry” He whispered, pressing kisses to your temple every now and then.

Your hands clutched at his shirt. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t ask you to. He just held you like he did before. Like he still remembered how.

After some time, your tears had slowed down. His hands stayed on your back, tracing soft patterns as you gradually relaxed.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that he was really sorry. That you two could get back from this.

His forehead dropped to yours, barely touching. His breath fanned against your lips, shaky and warm.

What if I just kissed him? you thought to yourself. Against your better judgement, you still felt this- this shift between you.

“Y/N” he whispered, like your name was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You didn’t think. Didn’t move away this time.

Your lips crashed into his, messy, desperate and needy whines coming from you. Your kisses were full of pain, apology and everything else you both hadn’t said.

His hand cupped your face, pulling you closer like a starved man. He tried to make up for all the times he hadn’t held you this close.

And you clung to him like a lifeline. You pulled at his shirt, carded your fingers through his curls- mouth parting against his with a whimper that shattered whatever was left of his resolve.

He had pulled back, just a little- his lips were red, breath heavy and he was looking at you like he could hung up your face in a gallery.

His eyes searched for your own, thumb wiping a few leftover tears on your cheeks.

“You don’t have to forgive me tonight” He whispered. “but I need you to know- how much I’ve missed you”

You kissed him again. Slower this time, more sure. Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, grounding yourself in the feel of him, in the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms.

“Let me show you, sweetheart” he murmured. “Please”

You nodded, breath catching in your throat.

He guided you to lie back down gently, your legs parting as you lay on the couch. He placed open mouthed kisses on your jaw, neck - slipping the straps of your dress just a little so he could bite your breasts. He pushed your dress up, hands careful and warm as if you were made of porcelain.

“Spence-“ You whispered, the nickname rolling off your lips like the old times.

Spencer could drown hearing that sound.

“Tell me to stop, honey and I will”

But you didn’t want him to stop. God no.

“Please- Spence”

That was all it took. He kissed you again, slower now - drinking you in, needing to taste your forgiveness on your tongue.

“Lie back for me, baby” He whispered, placing one last kiss on your lips before helping you back down.

Your dress was already bunched around your waist, thighs open and parted for him. His fingers trailed down your legs, touch featherlight as he dipped his hand inside your underwear, finding your clit.

“That’s it” he murmured, his voice nothing but more than a breath against your skin. “Just like that”

You gasped, hips twitching. He looked up - eyes dark but tender. “So sensitive, sweetheart” he said, like he couldn’t believe he was finally doing this. “Been thinking about this for so long”

You choked back a whimper, heart hammering in your chest.

Within seconds, your panties were off and Spencer was now kneeling between your legs, spreading them wide enough so he could press a kiss on your mound.

His mouth met you like he’d done this a hundred times, a soft lick first, then deeper. Harder.

Your back arched off the couch, a moan slipping from your lips as his tongue circled your clit. He groaned softly at the sound, holding your hips down with both hands, mouth relentless and warm.

“You’re so beautiful” He murmured, pressing another kiss to your clit. “I missed you so much, sweetheart. So, so much”

“God- Spence…” You gasped, one hand flying to his hair, the other gripping the cushion.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with precision, like he knew your body. Like he remembered what made you shake. And when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right - you nearly came undone.

You were a mess beneath him, trembling, whispering his name between curses and half sobs. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was grief, guilt, years of ache melting into want.

When you came, it hit you hard. Your hips bucked, head thrown back, whispering his name like a broken mantra. He didn’t stop until you were pulling at his hair, whimpering from the overstimulation.

He kissed his way back up your body, hand still cupping you gently, like he was afraid you might break.

“Okay?” He asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, eyes glassy. “Yes- God- Yes, I need you”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Then he fumbled with his belt, urgency returning to his hands. You helped him, both of you clumsy and breathless as he finally shed the last layer between you.

He lined himself up, looking at you like he wasn’t sure this was real.

“Tell me you still want me” He commanded, lining himself up - looking at you like he wasn’t sure this was real.

“You never- You never gave me the chance to stop”

His breath stuttered. One hand cradled your cheek, the other steadying himself at your hip.

When he slid inside, slow and deep - you both gasped at the feeling. Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth still agape.

He stilled inside you, forehead resting against yours.

“You’re doing so good for me, so good”

He moved then - slow thrusts, deep and aching. Each roll of his hips was apology, every moan from your lips was forgiveness. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t filthy. It was desperate. Raw. Like coming home after too long away.

You clung to him—legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders, lips at his ear. “I missed you so much,” you breathed.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I missed you too. I never stopped.”

He came with a quiet groan into your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair. He held you afterward, still inside you, hands smoothing over your skin like you were something sacred.

You stayed there for a long time. Silent. Holding onto each other like it meant something.

Because it did.

Afterwards, you were curled up into his chest, legs still trembling. He reached for a blanket, wrapping it around the both of you. Spencer’s lips found your forehead again, and that’s when it happened.

A single tear had rolled down your cheek. Then another.

“Sweetheart…”

You didn’t mean to cry. But after it was over, after all the tension snapped and the two of you were tangled up in each others arms, it came without warning. The tears were silent at first, sliding down your cheeks while you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey sweetheart” he whispered, already cupping your jaw gently. “You’re okay. I got you”

You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was hold him tighter, chest shaking as the weight of everything : the weeks of distance, the pain, the softness of his touch collapsed over you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, but he was already shaking his head.

“No. No, don’t do that. Don’t apologise,” he murmured, kissing the crown of your head. “You’re safe. You’re so good. You’re perfect. You hear me?”

His hands ran down your back slowly, grounding you. One on your spine, the other cradling your head.

“You did so well for me,” he whispered. “You were incredible.”

You sniffled, curling closer.

“I didn’t think this would… us” you whispered, voice barely there, gesturing to the small space between you.

“I’m the one who burned us down” He said, pressing a wet kiss on your lips.

“It’s not what I meant, angel. I don’t want- I don’t want to lose this with you” He croaked out, his own voice breaking.

You swallowed, fingers curling into his chest like an anchor.

“I don’t wanna do this without you, Spence”

He held you tighter. No promises. Just breath and skin and the quiet hum of two hearts finally beating in time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #softdom!spencer #criminal minds smut #fanfic

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maybanksprincess · 9 months ago

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brat!

warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v sex, public sex, unprotected (wrap it up please), spanking, pussy slapping, creampie, neck kissing, biting, kissing, choking, hair pulling.

pairings: moody!gf x dom!bf!jj

requested by this ask, might have went a little overboard, but hopefully you like it. (thank you anon🤍) 💋

all day, you had been in a mood. for seemingly no reason to jj. every time he made a joke or poked ur shoulder teasingly, it earned him a scowl in return.

but really, you were angry because jj looked so good and you were sexually frustrated. it surely wasn't helping that girls were eyeing him like he was eye candy. he was yours. not theirs. so why were they always staring so hard?

its not like you meant to snap at everyone. you were just in a bad mood, and you just wish jj would take you back to the chateau and pound you into the mattress of his bed.

the thought made you clench your thighs, and since you two weren't at home, you couldn't fulfill your need.

when kiara came up to you with a crate of beers, it snapped you out of your thoughts. you look up at her with a unknowingly harsh look.

kiara looks confused by the way your looking at her, but she leaves it alone "want a beer?" she asks, already pulling one out for you.

"mhm." you hum, taking the beer without saying thank you. jj watched this interaction and rolled his eyes.

when you come back over to sit on jjs lap, he wraps his arm around your waist. "whats got u in a mood mama?" he asks, with a small smirk on his face.

"shut up jj." you bite back, with a irritated expression on your face, cleary expressing you aren't in the mood for his jokes.

his smirk fades and he looks at you, sitting up with you still sat on his lap. "im sick of your shit. now talk to me and tell me whats wrong with you." he forces you to look at him with a firm grip on your chin

when hes met with more silence, he lets out a deep exhale. "get up." he says, while patting ur ass.

you slowly get up, not knowing what jjs next move was.

he stands up and guides you towards the boat, the rest of the pogues were out riding waves, and drinking beers so the boat was free.

it was parked on a secluded part of the beach where no one went. he helps you onto the boat, and then he bends you over, your ass in the air in front of him.

"j-" you start to protest, but before you can get a word out, he interrupts you with a small 'tsk' noise, and spreads ur legs.

you can hear the faint sound of his shorts unzipping and it makes your heart race. your finally getting what you've been craving all day.

"yeah y' think im stupid baby? i know what y' want. y' jus want some dick, yeah?" he snorts from behind you, positioning himself at your entrance raw.

when hes met with silence again, he smacks your ass hard enough to leave a handprint on it. "answer me, mama. got you all wet and needy for my dick, yeah?"

you moan and tug your bottom lip between your teeth at the sting of the slap. "yeah. jus' needed u jayjay."

he smirks, satisfied with his answer, pushing his girthy length inside of your hole and starts to thrust slowly at first, but quickening the pace.

he groans, "y' so tight baby. squeezin' me an' shit." you can feel his balls slapping against your clit in time with his thrusts.

he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking it back so he can turn your head to sloppily kiss you, as his dick plunges you even deeper from the position.

his kisses trail down to your neck, and he starts to nip at it, leaving little bite marks.

he lets go of your hair to wrap that hand around your neck instead, squeezing your throat enough to make you feel the pressure, but not quite hurt you.

he thrusts faster, grunting in your ear. "'m gonna cum in this pussy. thas' what u wanted, hm? jus wanted my cum in ur pretty little hole?"

you now have drool, trickling down your chin, your eyes in the back of your head as your ass jiggles with the impact of each of his thrusts.

you breathe out a "yes..."

he move his other hand down to your pussy to slap your clit a few times; knowing it turns you on. "cmon baby, cum for me." he coos.

with a few more of his deep thrusts, you cum around his cock, your pussy convulsing around him. you cry out, riding out your orgasm, as you feel him rubbing slow circles on your nub.

he spills his load into your pussy, groaning as his thick ropes of cum spread around inside of you.

after a few moments, he's still panting softly, but he lets go of your throat.

"don't ever catch a fucking attitude with me again." he pats your cheek

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mggslover · 2 months ago

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ONE MORE — emily prentiss

In which a night full of teasing results in you finally getting your way — at least, on Emily’s terms.

genre smut (18+) cw established relationship, alcohol consumption, semi public sex, reader being a whiny needy brat, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia, vibrator, multiple o’s, tit play, clit slapping, oral (r receiving and giving), fingering (r receiving) wc 5,4k a/n my first wlw fic! this was honestly so healing to write which sounds wild considering it’s pure porn lol. i’m always super nervous writing for a new character, so let me know if you enjoyed this and if you’d like seeing more emily in the future!

Ambient lights colored the space of the bar Emily guided you into. A beat of music was playing in the background; the rhythm of the song vibrated through your chest, and the thumping of the bass matched the exhilarated pounding of your heartbeat. Looking around, you were quick to find JJ and Penelope. They were sitting at a booth in the corner of the bar, drinks in hand like they usually did during a BAU’s girls night.

Emily’s palm felt clammy in yours as she led you through the crowd of sweaty bodies that had already found their way onto the dancefloor. It was a comforting grasp that grounded you until you reached the booth.

“Where were you two?” JJ calls out over the music. “I thought we planned to be here forty minutes ago.”

Forty minutes is a long time to wait, and you made a mental note to buy them a round later as an apology, although JJ’s smirk told you that she didn’t mind that much.

“We’re fashionably late,” Emily teased, sliding into the booth and pulling you beside her. Her fingers stayed intertwined with yours as she rested them comfortably on your lap.

Your mind wandered to why you had been fashionably late…

-`♡´-

Just an hour ago, you and Emily had been getting ready for tonight. Emily was taking her hair out of curlers, and you sat behind your vanity, the bulbs of light catching the red of your lips as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup.

“I like that shade,” Emily purred, slowly walking up to you from across the bedroom. Her eyes focused on your stained lips as she lazily wrapped her arms around your neck.

You smiled as you met her gaze in the mirror, the white of your teeth bringing an even nicer contrast to the red hue of your lips. “Of course you do, it’s your lipstick.”

“You little thief,” she mockingly scoffed, fingers grazing the bare skin of your shoulders, slowly inching down to brush over your arms. Her mouth hovered over the curve of your neck as she leaned down. “It looks even better on you.”

Turning your head to look at her, you took in the dark, loose curls that framed her face and the fitted black dress that melted onto her curves. Your gaze lingered on her soft cleavage before blinking back up. “You should put some on as well, it fits with your outfit.”

In feather-light strokes, Emily’s fingertips trailed up your arms again, not stopping until she had your chin cupped between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Come here, then,” she breathed out, and before you could answer, her soft lips were on yours.

It was a gentle, sweet kiss, yet still passionate, like everything with Emily is. Chapped lips pressed together with a satisfied hum that she swallowed gratefully. It was only after several seconds that you broke the contact.

Pulling back, you admired the transfer of lipstick; her lips glossing in color. A chuckle escaped you when you saw some excess red on the corner of her mouth. “Could’ve predicted that,” you mutter, reaching out to wipe it away with your thumb.

“It won’t come off like that.” She commented. “You need something wet.”

Before you had the chance to grab some makeup wipes from your vanity, Emily’s thumb was pressed against your bottom lip, caressing the plump skin in permission. Without question you had parted your lips, obediently wrapping your lips around the digit and releasing a small sound as you habitually swirled your tongue around.

“That’s a good girl,” she groaned, irises darkening at your act.

A disappointed whimper escaped you when she pulled her thumb free with a pop. She leaned over, glancing at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed the smudge away — your eyes never leaving her as you took fleeting glances at her figure.

The skin stayed a little pinkish, but the vibrant red spot was gone. What wasn’t gone, however, was the excited tingle that had started to simmer low in your stomach, slowly spreading through the rest of your body as you continued watching her.

Craving more, you placed your palms on the sides of her upper legs, moving them up to her hips and then back now. The thin fabric of her dress allowed you to feel the heat that started to radiate off of her thighs.

With your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth, your hands roamed over to her ass, moaning when you squeezed at her curves.

Emily’s hands cover yours, but instead of urging you to squeeze the flesh again, she gently tugs them away from her body.

“What did you do that for?” You pouted.

She responded with a chuckle, “We have plans, remember?”

Your arms lock over her backside anyway, pulling her into you as you rest your head against her stomach. “Since when do you care about being a little late?”

Her hands slide over your hair, smoothing the loose strands into place. “We can never be a little late when it comes to you.”

“I can come fast, I promise,” you whisper pleadingly, looking up at her with your best puppy eyes. Your finger traces the covered skin of her hip. “You got me all worked up. I’ll be fast.”

For a moment you could see the briefest flicker of temptation glimmer in her eyes, but with a blink it was gone. “Once we’re back,” she promised.

-`♡´-

“Lucky for you,” Penelope chirped excitedly, “we know your orders from the back of our heads.” She finished her sentence by sliding your and Emily’s go-to drinks over the table.

Emily grinned, bringing the glass to her lips. “You are the best, Pen.”

You toyed with the funky straw in yours, your mind too preoccupied by the beautiful woman that sat next to you to take a sip. You watched Emily in awe as her red lips closed around the rim of the glass and how she tilted her head back to take a sip, exposing the skin of her neck. Her lips were coated in a layer of sweet liquor as she placed the glass back down with a clink.

Emily seemed to have caught on to your stares, smirking to herself as she let her fingers slip beneath the edge of your skirt. The sensation of her warm fingertips sends butterflies straight to your core. “You’re gonna drink that?”

Your mouth opens to respond, but you quickly close it when she kneads the flesh of your upper thigh. “Y-yeah,” you gulp, swallowing the moan that’s threatening to escape.

Not paying attention to the smirks of JJ and Garcia, you pick up your drink and down the contents of the glass faster than you usually would.

“It’s not a shot, chérie,” Emily grins.

Damn it, Emily.

Calling you pet names, especially French ones, wasn’t fair. She knew the effect they had on you, and by the cocky tilt of her head and the smug sparkle in her eyes, you could tell that this was her plan all along.

Suddenly, you stood up from your seat. The glasses on the table rattled from your abrupt movement. You had to get out of her proximity; the heat that was enveloping your body was getting too much. Albeit to leave to the dancefloor where you’d be surrounded by warm bodies.

“Penelope,” you state determinedly, handing out your palm for her to take. “Let’s dance.”

-`♡´-

Dancing was a welcome distraction. You spun Penelope around in circles and filled the bar with your easy laughter.

Emily’s yearning eyes stayed focused on you from across the room. You could sense her following your every move: every wave of your arm and every sway of your hips. It only encourages you to move more sensually, to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Not long after, she and JJ joined you on the dance floor. You didn’t feel jealousy when her fingers ghosted over JJ’s frame or when she leaned in to whisper something in her ear, making JJ throw her head back in giggles. You felt rather intrigued by it, actually.

Watching them felt like watching a version of yourself from the sidelines, aware of the deep scent of her perfume, of the way her hair would feel as it tickled against your face — JJ’s face.

Emily observed you too, and it felt almost like it was just the two of you in the room — the music and chatter of others fading to the background in a blur. The moment was only broken when she exchanged some words with JJ, then walked off of the dancefloor, her figure disappearing into the bathroom.

“So… Are you gonna do something?”

You frown at Penelope, straining your ears to make sure you’ve heard her right. “Do what?”

She gives you a look that’s usually reserved for Reid, her eyes narrowing and her forehead creased as if you’d just said the most oblivious thing on earth.

“Uh, your super sexy hot girlfriend has been eyeing you all night and then went to the bathroom,” she waves behind her, in the direction of where Emily disappeared.

“You mean… she wants me to follow her?”

“Duh!” She responds with an exasperated sigh.

Emily liked to tease you in public, that much she made clear tonight. But she wasn’t the type to do anything scandalous, saving that for when you’re in private. Still, you couldn’t help but be curious if this was all part of her calculated plan.

“Okay then,” you nod, straightening your posture to appear more confident, brushing the giggly excitement that bubbles in your chest aside.

Penelope let out a thrilled shriek, holding you by your shoulders as she playfully pushed you in the direction you were headed. Get yourself a friend that is this supportive of the prospect of you hooking up with her other friend in a public bathroom.

Breathing your nerves away, you pull the door handle down, entering the bathroom. For a second you believed that you had misunderstood. That you — Penelope — had read her signals wrong, for you could not see her. But then she appeared from around the corner, familiar hands immediately finding your face and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You moaned loudly into her mouth, holding her tight as if scared she’d leave you wanting for more like she had earlier.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” She stated in a low murmur, enticing another sound from you. She used the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth, meeting yours in a firm haste.

There was no sweetness in the kiss this time around, just raw, passionate need. The only sweetness you could taste was the hint of lipstick that your tongue slid against.

“Been teasing me all night,” she groaned against your mouth.

“Me?” you exclaim in a high-pitched scoff. “You’ve been driving me crazy since before we even left the house.”

Her eyes flicked over your face, her cheeks heating. “Is that so?”

It was adorable that the most attractive woman to grace the earth even needed confirmation. You chuckled. “Yes, Emily,” you affirmed. “God, I’m so fucking wet for you.”

The words needed to fill the air, make a statement of themself, for you to gain the courage to speak your next offer. “You can check.”

The tips of her ears turned maroon, almost matching her red lips. The noise she made was unlike her desperate groans, it was the cutest little whine that would make your panties wet in an instant if they weren’t already.

Carefully, Emily backed you into the wall. The cool stone tiles were a pleasant welcome to the heat that was coursing through you. One of her hands was holding you in place, while the other brushed up the bare skin of your knee, inching closer to the seam of your skirt.

“So, you’re telling me…” Her eyebrow raised in a playful question, fingertips burning on your thighs, “That if I bunch this skirt up, I’ll find you all wet?”

You vehemently nod your head. It might seem like you’re lying: skin heating up, throat growing dry, not able to find words. But they’re all signs of how turned on you are. And there is no doubt in your mind that Emily will find you soaking through your underwear.

To confirm your suspicions, she skillfully bunches up your skirt. The cold bathroom air tingles your legs and the sliver of stomach that is now exposed, but you’re back to burning when Emily’s palms kiss your skin.

Her thumb and pointer finger hook into the waistband of your panties, but instead of pulling them down, she tugs the fabric up so that it wedges in between your puffy folds.

“Ah!”

Instantly your hands grip her shoulders, clawing your fingers into her lightly covered skin. Your face is etched in a mixture of confusion and pleasurable pain, and Emily divides her attention between observing your reaction and the way your pussy is clenching around the air.

“Hm,” she hums, licking her lips as she finally pulls the soaked layer of fabric aside, exposing you. “Very wet indeed.”

You roll your hips forward, begging for more.

To your relief, she leans in, lips brushing your neck and moving up to graze your earlobe. “Want me to take care of this needy pussy?”

Another whimpery moan. “Please, Emily. I need you, I need you—“

She shuts you up by pressing her lips to your neck, sucking feverishly, and at the same time reaching out to cup your heat. You arch your neck, hair sliding against the tiled wall as you let the pleasure envelop you.

She uses her knees to spread your legs further apart, while you continue to hold onto her shoulders, needing the support for your trembling, fawn legs.

With the flat of her fingers, Emily gives firm slaps to your swollen little clit, it aching under her touch.

Your eyes shut as you moan out, “God, so good.”

“I need you to be quiet for me, chérie. Still in public, remember?” Her words feel warm and tingly against the sensitive spot on your neck she had just left a hickey on.

“I’ll be quiet,” you confirm. Whether she believed you was another story, but it didn’t stop her from rubbing her hand up and down your folds, warming you up and spreading your slick sweetness around.

Your body still trembled, but slowly you got used to the sensations; Emily kept a steady rhythm. You let your hands fall from her shoulders to her breasts, gripping handfuls, groaning when you felt her peaked nipples stiffen through the fabric.

“You’re so fucking sexy in this dress, Em.”

“Just in this dress?” She teasingly smirked, sliding a finger through your folds.

A giggle leaves your lips. “Even sexier when you take it off.”

To prove your point, you hook your finger in the low cut of her dress, tugging the soft black fabric down to reveal more of her cleavage. With ease, your hand slides in, cupping her breast.

And she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fuck.

More turned on than you could imagine, you desperately buck your hips up against her hand, rolling her peaked nipple between your fingers in the same way she did with the aching pearl in between your thighs.

Emily pulls her hand back from your heat. “I think we need these a bit wetter before I fuck you,” she teasingly grins, showing off her fingers that were already wet as they glistened in your slick.

Out of reflex, you opened your mouth, tongue sticking out as you looked up at her with hooded eyes. But instead of using you, she coated her own kiss-swollen lips with her fingers before slipping the digits inside.

She was going to be the death of you one day; you were sure of it. With her mouth open you could see the way her pink tongue swirled around, lapping up all of your juices and humming like there was no sweeter kind of dessert.

So entranced in her ministrations, you only got out of your daze when her hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling the weight up until your leg was hooked around her waist.

“Oh,” you moan when her two fingers push against your cunt, giving little resistance as you feel her entering.

The loud knocking of wood makes you jump up, Emily’s fingers slipping out of you as smoothly as they entered.

“I swear to God,” Emily muttered when the knocking continued.

“Hello! Is someone in there?” The high-pitched sound of a woman, more like a girl, calls from the other side of the wall. “I need to pee!”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you await Emily’s reaction. She’s best to take the lead in this, as you’re known to be shorter-tempered.

Emily glances in the mirror behind you, fixing her top and patting some loose strands of hair down. Your bottom lip turns down in a sad frown, already knowing what time it is.

A cry leaves your throat, hands immediately locking around her wrist. “Don’t go!”

Emily turns her head, her eyes fleeting over your state until she realizes your cry was one out of pure desperation.

“I need to come, Em!” You beg. “Please, just— I’ll be quick. I told you I’ll be quick.”

Emily raises her eyebrow. “There’s someone standing outside banging on the door,” to emphasize, she added, “who will probably piss her pants if we don’t leave right now.”

“I don’t care!” You huffed out in exasperation.

You truly were no better than the young woman waiting outside (who’s probably more drunk than you are and needs to pee, so she has a valid reason to whine), but still you begged as you tried placing her hand back to where it was. Where it should be. “She can hold on a little longer. I can’t, Emily.”

But Emily didn’t budge. Instead, she gave you a chaste kiss and bunched your skirt down.

In an exaggerated motion, you throw your head back, a soft cry escaping your lips as Emily’s hand slips out of yours, walking to the door and unlocking it.

A brunette, not much older than the legal age to drink, walked inside, scoffing as Emily brushed past her on her way out.

Your nose scrunched up in disgust as the woman scurried into the bathroom, unzipping her pants while you were still standing in front of her.

“Fuck you,” you spat at her.

-`♡´-

Of course you had been embarrassed of your behavior for the rest of the night. You didn’t even have the decency to offer JJ or Penelope any polite smiles. You were pissed. And horny. So fucking horny. And pissed. Most of all, pissed.

“Can you at least try to act like you’re having fun?” Emily hisses under her breath the second JJ and Penelope head toward the bar to get a refill.

“No,” you mutter, sipping on the straw of your empty drink.

At least your toddler tantrum had passed, now you’d entered the teenage passive aggressive ‘I don’t care’-phase.

Emily inhales sharply through her nose, and you can tell she’s running out of patience.

“Fine,” she exhales, already grabbing her leather jacket that was bundled up in the corner of the booth. “You’re coming with me.”

You blink up at her in confusion, but with one cock of her head, you’re standing up, following her command.

Weaving behind her, you’re nothing more than some lost puppy, trying not to lose their owner in the crowd. Relief floods through you when she waves her arm behind her, her hand grazing yours, which you gratefully accept.

So much for your little show of anger. It was annoying how you always craved her touch, your body acting before your mind could even process.

When you reach JJ and Penelope at the bar, Emily has her words ready. “We’re heading out. She’s not feeling well.”

Four insistent eyes fall on you, and you feel your cheeks heating up as you’re being completely put on the spot. Thanks, Em.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks, her eyebrow arched, not as caught up as Penelope, who’s trying to stifle back her knowing laughs.

The words tumble out of your mouth awkwardly. “Yeah. Just a bit of a headache, ‘s all.”

JJ nods, her eyes flickering over to your intertwined hands, the realization slowly sinking in. “Right.”

-`♡´-

Patience is a virtue.

You weren’t known for your patience, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that you waited and were finally getting rewarded for your restraint.

“Such a needy girl,” Emily tsked as she backed you into the mattress in your bedroom. You let yourself fall down with a gentle thud, Emily climbing on top of you as her body caged you in. She kneeled over your frame, bare, strong legs curved on either side of you.

“Can’t help but be a little slut, can you?”

Her words pooled warm in your belly, and you arched your neck in an attempt to kiss her lips — those sweet, plump lips that hovered just inches above yours. But Emily pulled back, denying you her taste and causing you to groan.

Her hands swiftly trailed down your thighs, lifting the fabric of your skirt up and letting the tips of her fingers trail up and down your covered lips.

“You can’t even think straight when that pussy is so wet… Just aching to be touched.”

Goosebumps erupt around your skin, the little flames of excitement coursing through your veins as she hooks her fingers in the lace of your underwear and smoothly slides them down your legs.

With a frantic enthusiasm, you helped her kick the fabric off your feet, spreading your legs open for her so that it couldn’t be clearer on what you wanted. What you needed.

Emily settled herself between your thighs, her own dress riding up as she arched her back, giving you a glimpse of the soft curve of her ass.

With featherlight kisses she decorated your inner thighs, every brush of her tongue causing you to squirm in her grasp.

“No more teasing, please.” Your voice is already out of breath, your chest heaving in anticipation, and your clit twitching every time her breath fanned over the sensitive bud.

Her eyes glimmer up at you, sparkling in mischief. “Okay.”

The firm swipe of her wet tongue over your labia is enough for you to plant your feet into the mattress, lifting your body up in pleasure, trying to chase the heat of her mouth.

Emily’s tongue moved with precision, knowing you like the back of her hand. She used the firm tip of her tongue to focus on your clit, the little, swollen pearl peeking out and begging for her attention. Slowly she flicked up the bud, then circled her tongue around, then flicked again, until the tension in your stomach began to pull.

Your fingers tangled into her soft hair, tugging on the dark strands, trying your best to ground yourself and delay the undeniable waves of warmth that flooded you. Tears pricked in your eyes, and it took one more press of her tongue to make you fall apart. Salty drops spilled down your cheeks while you moaned incoherent cries of her name.

She pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, your body so sensitive that the small gesture caused you to shake again.

Eventually — after a couple of deep breaths — you calmed down again, your heart still thumping in your chest as you breathily chuckled.

Emily’s eyes found yours from in between your thighs, a lazy smirk curved at the end of her lips. “That was quick.”

You could only respond back with a satisfied hum. Through your blurry vision, you watched her stand up, turning her back to you as she rummaged through the drawers — probably looking for a towel. Her dress clung messily over her body. You blinked a couple of times, excess tears falling down your cheeks as you focused on the little lacy fabric that peeked from beneath her dress.

She climbed back up on the bed, the mattress weighing down beneath you as she hovered over your frame. With a touch ever so gentle, she used her thumb to wipe a single tear away from your cheek.

Emily’s eyes always had such a physical effect on you. The dark colored irises spoke volumes, and this time they told you how loved you were. A nice reminder after the tension in the bar. Craning your neck, you took the opportunity to press your lips to hers. You were grateful when she took the lead, cupping your face with one hand as she deepened the kiss.

It didn’t take long for need to overcome you again. Wetness still dripped out of you, coating your inner thighs, and it only accumulated by the wet strokes of Emily’s tongue against yours.

Her heavy breasts pressed down on your chest, comfortably caging you in as she pried your legs open with the hand that wasn’t busy holding your cheek.

Too caught up in the heat of the moment, you didn’t hear the small buzzing sound that was added to the background of your heavy breathing as Emily turned on the vibrator that she took out of a drawer earlier.

A strangled sound in between a gasp and a cry left your throat, legs shaking as Emily pressed the buzzing toy on your pussy and let it slip between your swollen folds, vibrating directly at your most sensitive spots.

“Sshh…“ Her nose brushed against the side of your face, cooing you back into submission.

“Come on now, chérie,” she purred as she placed a kiss on your cheekbone. “I know there’s more in you.”

As always, she was right. The muscles in your stomach clenched, and your clit couldn’t stop throbbing and twitching against the silicone in between her hands, each vibration pulling you under until you felt close to reaching that peak again.

Emily moaned at the sight of you, a bunny caught in the traps of a sly wolf. She knew your body better than you, knew you better — precisely aware of the way you’d climb on top of her just several minutes after having come around her long fingers, or her silk tongue, or the strap-on you’d bought not too long ago, begging for another round. So she had to tire you out this time. Release every bit of desire stuck in your body. Fuck you to sleep, for all she cared.

“Em-“ you squealed. Your body gave in fast: thighs clenching around her wrist, head pushed back into the pillow, nails digging crescent moon shapes into her skin as you clung onto her, breathily moaning her name.

Evil as she is, she turned the vibrator up a setting, taking nothing but pleasure in the way your mouth fell open in a gasp, eyebrows scrunching and eyes wide with tears as you let yourself go.

Emily tosses the vibrator aside before the overstimulation could hurt, instantly cupping your pussy with the warmth of her hand to soothe you. “Oh, that’s it, that’s my good girl,” she mutters in praise, leaving gentle kisses over your teary face in an effort to calm you down.

The features on your face slowly inched back into place as your breathing stuttered to a relaxing pattern.

A shaky but vibrant laugh left your chest. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Emily hummed as she kissed your smiling lips. “Crazy is good, right?” She asked with a smirk.

Emily’s hand stayed on your heat, rubbing her palm around in tranquil circles to let you ride out your high. Gradually you started to gain back feeling, your pussy previously feeling numb due to the sensual assault she’d brought you.

It was almost humorous how fast your pussy started weeping for her again, new, sweet juices falling from your hole and dripping down.

“Oops, sorry,” Emily spoke genuinely as the tip of her finger accidentally slipped into your heat.

The feeling of her was addictive, so it came as no surprise to you as you lifted your hips, bucking them in the air for more.

You should’ve felt embarrassment by the way Emily looked at you, rolling her eyes with a cheeky smile, close to shaking her head in bewilderment. But you held her gaze, eyes speaking the words that maybe you were too afraid to speak out loud.

“Still so greedy,” she observed. “Need one more?”

You nodded, grateful to have a profiler as your girlfriend. You did not regret your decision as she curled the digit further into you until it nuzzled that sweet spot inside.

“As much as I love making you feel good, I’m getting a bit impatient over here.” She murmured, sitting slightly up on her knees and using her free hand to hike up her dress.

Your reaction was nothing short of that of a cartoon, eyes bulging out at the sight of her. Soft, biteable thighs on display and her lacy underwear drenched in obvious arousal despite the black color trying to hide it.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, Em,” you commented breathlessly, heartbeat racing in your chest at the mere fantasy of it.

Her finger left you, but you knew it would only be momentarily when she pulled her dress over her frame and wiggled out of her underwear before maneuvering herself on top of you. You greedily held onto her thighs that were placed on either side of your face, inching your hands up to her sides and ass as she lowered down.

“Spread a little wider for me, baby,” you instructed and she did so, revealing the beautiful pink of her slick pussy to you.

Carefully she leaned forward, positioning her elbows on your lower abdomen and finding a comfortable placement to thrust her fingers back into you.

The moan you let out reverberated against her heat, and up close you could see her needy hole clenching around nothing, begging for your affection. With the tip of your tongue, you licked a firm stripe up her center, repeating the action when she begged you for more.

It was impossible for you to be a tease around her. Most of the time she didn’t even have to beg you; you were always prepared and ready to give her your all. So that’s what you did when you nipped at the velvety skin of her labia, coating your chin and nose in her honeyed juices as you let your lips and tongue explore her in sucks and licks and bites.

Emily kept up with your ministrations, scissoring her fingers inside of you to stroke up against the G-spot she had made herself very familiar with.

Soppy, wet sounds left your cunt as the two of you continued playing an unspoken game: her fingers would thrust and curl up harder into you the more you’d suckle on her swollen clit. This was her way of letting you know she was still the one in control. You could make her cry out, for sure, but she’d only make you cry harder for her in return.

Emily felt relieved when your walls started tightening around her, knowing she couldn’t hold on for that much longer either, as her thighs started shaking the moment you dipped your skilled tongue inside of her.

“Come with me,” she panted out in encouragement.

A tinge of pride filled her chest when you were the first to let go, moaning against her cunt as the waves in your core took over. The addictive sounds of your pleasure were enough to tilt her over the edge as well.

Your fingers gripped into her soft skin to keep her steady, chuckling when she gently collapsed on top of you, her sweat stained face falling onto your upper thigh.

“Glad we got that out of our systems,” she said and placed a kiss on your skin.

#emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #lesbian #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #emily prentiss fic #sapphic

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bbyg4rl · 4 months ago

Note

maybe.. jj with a breeding kink?

cw: jj x reader, established relationship, smut !

summary: you joke about having a food baby, so JJ gives you a real baby. Inspired by request ! MDNI.

< oral f. receiving, little slap on thighs(?), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, praise >

“Ugh, it’s like I have a food baby,” you joked to Sarah, grinning as she chuckled in response. It was meant to be nothing more than a lighthearted comment, just a silly remark about overeating. But little did you know, that one simple joke would change everything.

Your words reached JJ’s ears, pulling his attention away from whatever conversation he was having with Pope. The moment you referred to yourself as a mother, even if it was just to a “food baby,” something in him shifted.

The idea of you pregnant, carrying his baby, sent a wave of arousal through him. His mind spiraled, suddenly consumed by images of you swollen with his child, glowing, utterly his. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat as he tried to focus on anything else—but it was too late. The thought had taken root, and there was no pushing it away now.

By the time you both had retreated to his room at the Chateau, the tension in his pants was unbearable. Every brush of your skin against his, every glance exchanged had only fueled the fire burning inside him. He could hardly think straight. Overpowered with the need to have you.

The moment the door shut behind him, his restraint shattered. He couldn’t wait any longer. All he wanted was to push you onto the bed and fuck a baby into you. “Fuckin' got me losing my mind all day,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in as he buries himself in the crook of your neck.

“Oh?” You giggled at the sudden attention, but the amusement faded the moment he lifted his head and locked eyes with you.

His baby-blue irises were blown wide, they looked dark and hungry, sending a shiver down your spine. The look on his face was almost terrifying, pure, unfiltered need etched into every feature, the kind of look that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

“Want me to make you a real mama, baby?” he coos, his voice soft yet laced with something darker, something possessive.

His hands slide down to your stomach, fingertips pressing gently into your abdomen. The touch is subtle but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. When he applies the slightest pressure, a soft moan escapes your lips. His eyes darken even more at the sound, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you squirm beneath his touch.

His hands find your hips, guiding you until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. The air between you is thick with tension, every step making your pulse race. With an effortless motion, he roughly pushes you down onto the mattress, following closely as he climbs over you. His hands fall down to your thighs, gripping them as he pulls your legs around his waist. He trails slow, teasing nips from your lips down to your navel, undressing you along the way, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“Jay, please—” you whine, squirming beneath him as his hands hover over your pussy, barely touching—just enough to drive you crazy. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, clearly enjoying how easily he has you begging.

“So pretty” he whispers as his mouth finds purpose in between your legs, he licks a long stripe along your slit. Making you moan loudly at the sensation. He slides his thick fingers into your sobbing cunt, curling them just the right amount to send ripples of pleasure through you at every thrust. Pride blooms in his chest as you come undone around his fingers.

“Pretty, pretty pussy” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. The vibrations from his voice send a wave of heat through your body, every syllable sinking deep into your nerves.

A gasp slips from your lips as he blows cold air onto your clit before circling his tongue around your pulsing, swollen bud. He latches his lips onto it as he sucks, making your back arch from the feeling. You can practically feel the proud smirk he has on. Sucking and licking as he moves his head side to side.

The combined feel of his fingers thrusting into you and his attention on your clit has an orgasm bubbling through you in no time. A sharp, loud moan leaves your mouth as you reach your high.

“Such a good pussy huh? beggin' me to fill it up” he murmurs, the filth he's spewing shoots straight through you, sending a shiver down your spine. Your thighs instinctively tighten around his head, your body trembles from the overwhelming pleasure.

He finally pushes himself up, his movements slow and deliberate as he climbs on top of you again. His shark tooth necklace hovers over your face, the warmth of his skin radiating against you as his face inches closer. He lifts your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders.

His strong arms hold your legs up as he leans down to kiss you, folding you in half in the process. He reaches one hand down, index and middle finger on either side of your folds, stretching your sticky hole as he bullies himself in, inch by inch.

Your back is arched like a bow string drawn too tight, your walls pulsing, struggling to adjust to the intrusion. He doesn't let you adjust fully, he needs you now. He pulls out, only to thrust back in quickly, setting in an unrelenting, almost punishing pace. His arms flex around your legs, tasty biceps tense around you as he pushes your legs up even higher, making space for his dick.

“Gonna fuck you pregnant, mama” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, each word laced with intent. He gives your ankles a kiss as his thrusts grow harder and harder. pulling out until only the tip is in, only to slam back in with full force. He's splitting you open as if you were a pistachio. His dick twitches in you with every moan that slips out of your mouth.

“You gonna have my kids?” he rasps between heavy breaths, his voice low and teasing. You nod at his words but you're quickly met with a smack on your thigh as response. “Use your words” He orders, rubbing a soothing hand over the skin he had just smacked.

“Y-yes, I'm gonna have your kids,” You stammer out as your brain threatens to turn into mush, the pleasure flooding your senses.

He gives you a kiss on your forehead while his thrusts grow needier. His pace is frantic as he nears his release. “So good f'me,” He says against your forehead as his hand reaches in betwen the tangled mess of limbs to find your clit.

He rubs tight circles on your bud, putting enough pressure to make your eyes roll back into your head and push your hips up in need for more. “Have all my babies, darlin',” He pants, “Wanna see this belly all full” his grip tightens on your legs as a lazy smirk tugs at his lips, eyes locked onto how your face twists in pleasure.

His whispers are enough to push you to orgasm again, your walls clench and spasm around him as your release hits you, your vision turning spotty as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

A loud moan erupts from JJ's throat, “Take all of it—Fuck—” he whimpers, burying himself as deep as he could go, filling you up with spurts of his sticky cum. Thick, hot ropes of white shoot so deep into your womb that you could swear you felt in your throat.

He pulls out slowly, the loss of warmth leaving a shiver in its wake, before pushing himself off the bed. His movements are hurried as he runs a hand through his messy hair, glancing around the room. Spotting your scattered clothes, he picks up your panties, tossing them onto the bed with a smirk.

He strides toward you with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze locked onto you like a predator closing in on its prey. He takes your lacy panties and shoves them into your sensitive, leaking cunt. The unexpected feeling making you whimper.

He laps up all of his cum that had already leaked out with his fingers, smearing it around your pussy.

“Can’t let anything go to waste” he chuckles, slipping back into bed beside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, his fingers reach back to rub circles on your clit. With a satisfied sigh, he presses his face into your neck, giving you featherlight kisses along the sensitive expanse of skin. He wasn't done yet.

check out my other works ! masterlist

a/n: sry this took so long anon! hope you like it <3

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rafeysbunny · 4 months ago

Text

⌑ islander!reader dragging fwb!jj into the bathroom for a fuck 'cause she misses him

cw ! nsfw, unprotected p in v, pussy slapping, squirting.

you and jj are definitely not together. at least, that’s what you tell everyone. just friends —friends who happen to sneak off to fuck whenever they feel like it, who know each other’s bodies better than they probably should, who have been playing this dangerous little game for months.

but now, jj’s lounging on the couch, laughing at something john b said, looking so obnoxiously good with his messy blonde hair and that damn smirk. he knows you want him. he’s been teasing you all night, letting his fingers linger for a little too long on you waist every time he passed by, brushing his lips against your ear just to say something stupid. and you've had enough.

you haven't had him in days. you need him. bad.

so you do what any person in your desperate situation would do —you get up, stretch, and head towards the hallway, muttering something about wanting to lay down for a bit after you give him that look. that's all jj needs. you know the second you disappear down the hall, he’ll follow.

and of course he does.

as soon as the bathroom door clicks shut behind him, you're on him. his back hits the door with a soft thud when you slam him against it, his arms gripping your waist instinctively while he stares down at you, those stupidly pretty blue eyes shining with amusement.

"fuck, sunshine —couldn’t wait, huh?" he has the signature smug grin in his lips as he talks. "you that desperate for my dick?"

that little smirks does unholy things to you. "shut up."

gripping the nape of his neck, you tug him down to press a hungry kiss to his rosy lips, letting out a soft whimper. he doesn't waste any time, his tongue pushing into your mouth, kissing you back with the same intensity. his hands slide down from your waist to grip your plump ass, pulling you flush against him so you can feel his hardening cock.

after a couple of minutes, he pulls away just enough to whisper against your mouth, "bossy."

"you like it," you mutter back, full lips curling into a pretty smirk.

your small hands move to grip the hem of his worn out t-shirt, eagerly tugging at it to get it off his perfect body. he chuckles, low and deep in his throat as he lifts his arms, letting you pull the shirt up and off. his chest is bare now, all toned muscles and warm skin making you drool.

"yeah, i really fuckin' do," he admits, hands also moving to help you take off your own.

beneath your top you're not wearing anything so when he yanks it off, you're left bare chested, pretty tits bouncing out of the thin fabric. his eyes darken at the sight immediately, scanning your body like he’s hungry for you in a way that makes you ache.

his hands are rough as they slide up your sides, and the feeling of his calloused palms against your soft skin makes your breath hitch. you have to bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan, when his thumbs graze over your perky nipples, and you shudder, arching into him, eager for more contact.

"shit, you’re so damn soft," jj mutters under his breath as he leans forward to kiss down your neck, lips slowly trailing over the sexy tan lines on your chest. "fuckin' love your body..."

“fuck, jay...” you whimper, fingers tugging at his waistband, eager to get him out of his clothes.

he chuckles against your throat at how needy you sound, his lips moving to capture yours while his hands slide down, cupping your ass before he lifts you up like you weight nothing. instinctively, you lock your legs around his waist, feeling his thick cock pressing against your sex through his board shorts, which makes you gasp into the kiss.

he walks you over to the old counter, setting you down so you’re sitting on the cool surface, which creaks beneath your weight, making you both pause for just a second.

"you want it, sunshine?" he teases, voice low and raspy. "my dick so deep inside you?" his hands squeeze your supple thighs, pulling you closer to him him. "say it, pretty girl."

"yeah," you start to say, but then he grinds against your pussy and all rational thought vanishes instantly.

"yeah, what?" he prompts.

he moves his hips again so his dick drags against your clit through the thin fabric of both your bottoms, his hands gripping your legs like he’s holding on for dear life.

"need your dick inside my pussy so bad," you answer to his enjoyment, struggling to hold back your pretty whimpers.

"that's it, sunshine. fuckin' love when you beg for it," he praises.

letting go of one leg, he pushes down his shorts and boxers, just enough to free his large, thick cock, which is fully hard for you. you mouth waters when you see it, and you're tempted to drop to your knees for him, but you don’t have time for that —not today. a gentle tap on your thigh brings you back to reality, and you hear jj asking you to lift up, so you obey, hips lifting from the sink as his fingers grip the waistband of your shorts.

he yanks them down and off of you in one swift movement, along with your panties, tossing them somewhere across the bathroom without a care.

"fuck– pussy looks so pretty and wet for me," he groans out, watching with hungry eyes as you spread your tanned legs for him.

"you been teasin' me all day..." you whine in response, sweet voice all breathy and shaky.

your cunt is already throbbing in anticipation as you wait for him to do something, anything really.

"yeah, well... how about i make it up to you, huh?" he smirked, fisting his cock and giving it a couple of pumps. without warning, he rubs the head against your slick folds, teasing your puffy clit with it. "you missed having this dick?"

your whole body shudders at his action, little bundle of nerves buzzing from pleasure. you can feel your pussy clenching around thin air, begging to be filled up.

"jay," you cry out almost pathetically, "stop that."

"stop what?"

he chuckles mischievously, dragging his length up and down your slit oh-so-slowly, the fat tip pushing against your opening briefly before he pulls back, denying you both again.

"stop teasing, fuck," you huff, finally snapping.

your hand sneaks between your bodies to wrap around his shaft, lining him up with your dripping hole before you sink onto him, and you both have to bite back a moan of pure relief. he nearly loses his balance at how good you feel squeezing his cock, one hand slamming against the counter behind you for support.

"shit..." he hisses through clenched teeth, his free hand keeping you spread open for him. "that's so hot..."

it drives him crazy when you take control like that, and you know it, so you enjoy doing it every now and then —despite how much you love him being in charge. his face burrows into the crook of your neck as he tries to keep his cool, and his hips start moving slowly, pulling out just an inch or so before sliding back in, his thick cock stretching you out so good.

"fuck, you feel like heaven."

you have to reach up to cover your mouth while you throw your head back against the mirror, muffling a whiny moan that you can't possibly hold back. jj’s fingers dig into your hips, his grip bruising as he finally starts to move, fucking into you with hard, deep strokes that have your breath hitching.

his lips find your jaw, then your ear, voice dripping with smug satisfaction as he says, "pussy's squeezing me so tight... she’s fuckin' made f'me."

he punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, making you choke on a gasp. with the way his dick pumps into your cunt just right, it's impossible to look anything but a complete mess for him. you can't even bring yourself to care about the rest of the pogues hearing anymore, not even when the sink creaks with every thrust.

he leans back slightly to watch as his dick slides in and out of your perfect, puffy pussy. the sight is so fucking hot that he can't help but pick up the pace even more, slamming into you over and over again until the sound of bodies slapping together echoes loudly through the bathroom. your cunt is soon fluttering around him, and the muscles in your tummy tighten as you approach your climax, the pleasure so much that it has your pretty little toes curling.

"shit, you're gonna make me nut if you keep doing that," he groans, and you can hear the strain in his voice.

"uhm, can't help it..." you mumble.

smirking roguishly, you clench around him again, voluntarily this time, and his eyes roll back as he bites his lip, trying his hardest not to come just yet. he knows you're close too, and he wants to make you cum first.

"such a tease..."

he punishes you by slapping your clit, making it sting. but then he starts rubbing it, and the combination between pain and pleasure makes the coil in your belly snap, pussy squirting around his dick when you finally orgasm. your release leaves you shaking and panting for air, almost crying from how intense it is —you have to bite down on your lip to keep quiet, so hard that you almost draw blood.

and you look so damn pretty, trembling beneath him and soaking his cock, that jj swears he falls in love with you on the spot, spitting out a curse while relishing in your fucked out expression.

"my gosh, sunshine, you just squirted f'me? fuck..."

the sight, added to the feeling of your snug pussy gripping him so fucking tight, has him spilling his cum inside you, head dropping back with a shaky breath. it takes everything in him not to moan out loud as he keeps thrusting erratically, pumping you full of his seed.

when you both come down from your respective highs, you notice jj is staring down at you with hearts in his eyes, but you force yourself to ignore it —not wanting to acknowledge the way it makes your heart flutter. you just push him back gently to climb down from the sink and start throwing your clothes back on.

jj is terribly hurt by that, but he also pushes the feelings away, focusing on accommodating his shirt and pants; pants which happen to be soaked in your squirt, and which cost him a lot of mocking comments from the pogues when he leaves the bathroom to go change, leaving you behind not to raise any suspicions.

"ew, jj, did you fuckin' pee yourself?"

at least, they don't seem to have noticed about your little... rendezvous.

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januaryembrs · 1 year ago

Note

oblivious!reader x downbad!spencer who’s not even nervous to flirt with reader anymore cuz she just doesn’t get it (probs older episodes spence)

CLUELESS | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer's got a crush, too bad you're entirely clueless to his dilemma. (S3!Spencer in mind)

length 1.2k

At first he’d thought it was the world’s gentlest form of rejection, how you would dodge his questions, barely bat an eye at him laying himself bare for you, thought that maybe you were pretending not to see the way his hands shook and voice quivered to save him some face.

“I-I was wondering if you wanted to go see Zodiac at the movie theatre?” He stammered, obsessively tucking his hair behind his ear because it felt like it was ticking his cheeks, or perhaps that was just some residual sweat gathering on his temple because you were just so pretty when you looked at him like that, your eyes wide and excited, waiting for him to finish speaking because you always loved to listen to him, “I was thinking we could try comparing it to the actual case and figure out how accurate their hollywood version of it is,”

Your face lit up like the fourth of July, and your smile was blinding, “Oh, I love the movies! It’s going to be so fun, Spence!” You chirped, whirling around in your desk chair to meet Emily’s bored stiff expression as she scrolled through her computer, “Em, Spencer wants us to go see Zodiac, you in?”

Spencer paled, because that was not what he’d meant by we whatsoever. It wasn’t that he held anything against Emily, nor JJ or Penelope as they were quickly roped into the plans as well, he just hadn't had them in mind when he thought to ask you out on a date. From what he could tell you hadn’t escaped spending time with him alone on purpose. He just hadn’t quite been specific in his question, it was an easy mistake to make.

But you looked so excited as you organised who was getting what snacks, quickly dibsing the seat slap bang in the middle of everyone so you wouldn’t feel like anyone got left out. He thought his chest stuttered when you grabbed his hand and asked if you could sit with him since he’d remember the most about the original case, and you’d need his big brain for the little game he had planned.

Spencer agreed, instead of trying to make it clear what he’d meant by his original question, because he hated disappointing people and the other girls seemed just as thrilled to go see the movie as you were. It wasn’t until Morgan slapped him on the back with a chuckle, having watched the whole thing from his own desk that Spencer felt truly dumb.

“You’re going to have to try better than that, pretty boy,” He exclaimed, and Spencer bit his lip in thought, “Try asking her to do something in a way that leaves no room for confusion, girls like it when you’re direct,”

And he nodded vehemently, because dating advice from Morgan was usually sound and bulletproof, how else would would he have garnered the ladies man reputation?

Direct, he could be direct. Sure, Spencer could be direct.

He swallowed heavily just thinking about it.

–

“These are for you,” Spencer jumped in before you could get sidetracked by chatting his ear off about the squirrel you’d nearly ran over on your way to work, and your expression flitted into surprise.

He handed you the big bunch of pink roses and baby’s breath, and your mouth cracked into a smile immediately. “Oh, Spencer, these are beautiful, you shouldn’t have. My birthday’s not for another week,”

“And I booked us a table at that Thai place on your block that you always get- wait birthday?” Spencer stumbled over his script, the words he’d been practising all morning coming to an effective halt as he realised once again his intentions had flown right over your head. And yet before he could set his record straight, just like you had last time, you’d jumped at the chance of spending time with him without understand just what you were agreeing to.

“I love Thai food, that’s so thoughtful of you, Spence,” You said, hopping up out of your chair to give him a bear hug around his lithe waist, the flowers still tightly in the palm of your hand. He reciprocated, even if his expression was a terrible mix of frustration and confusion.

It was like someone had cast some sort of spell over his words so that he’d never be able to ask you out on a date, like he was trying to speak in a dream, the words never really coming out. You weren’t dumb, not by any means, you could be a little naive sometimes, but never cruel. Spencer had no idea what the answer was. He guessed he was right back at square one.

–

“I don’t know man, I tried asking her to the movies, she thought it was a group thing. I tried taking her out for dinner, she thought it was for her birthday, I even asked if she wanted to come over to mine and she thought I meant a sleepover. What’s romantic about pillow forts?” Spencer sighed, leaning his head into his palm as he watched you swan around the office without a single inkling of his affections, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had fun at every one of them, but I just want there to be more. Maybe she just doesn’t feel the same,”

“Don’t lose hope, pretty boy,” Derek comforted, the seemingly appointed love Guru that had had to witness two weeks of Spencer’s advances get sidelined. He followed Reid’s gaze to where you hummed a song to yourself as you collected files from Emily’s desk to take them over to your own. He bit his lip in thought, “I don’t think it’s personal, honest, I don’t think she means anything by it. You just need to be clearer,”

“Clearer?” Spencer said with raised brows, using a single prod of his converse to swivel himself around to face you, and your expression perked into a smile just from seeing him. Derek watched the two of you closely, his theory all but game set and match as you seemed genuinely excited to see their resident genius who was convinced there was nothing there, “That shirt is really cute on you. It makes your eyes look really pretty,” Spencer said, in his most direct tone possible, because the nervousness seemed to dissipate when he knew you wouldn’t pick up on his intentions. The only sign you’d heard him at all was the way your fingers ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Aw, thank you, Spencer,” You said, a little bounce in your step as you passed his desk to your own, running a gentle hand over his arm, where his blue striped shirt bunched around his biceps, “I like your purple one the best, but this one’s quite handsome too,” You replied, grabbing the other wad of papers from your drawer without much of a reaction and heading up the stairs to Hotch’s office, and he turned back to Morgan, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head and yanking his cup of coffee towards him, “She’ll figure it out some day, lover boy. I give it a month, tops,”

And Spencer huffed, wheeling himself back to his desk, his eyes naturally trailing up to the large window that divided them from Hotch’s personal space, the two of you discussing something jovially as if you were none the wiser to his internal predicament.

He made a note to wear his purple shirt more often.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader

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sleepyjuice · 1 year ago

Note

him accidentally hurting you during sex 🥺🥺

this is somewhat self serving bc this has happened to me 🫣 idk if this could be triggering to anyone but this does involve pain during sex. anon I’m sorry if I made this way too deep lmao 😭 endometriosis girlies unite!!! this shit ain’t for the weak !!!!

“Fuck, fuck, takin’ me so good, baby.” jj groaned as he pounded into you from behind. His hands had a firm grip on your hips, your ass in the air and face in the pillows, the loud sounds of skin slapping skin filled the small bedroom.

You had been going for awhile, already had two orgasms and jj was currently working on giving you your third, and he was getting pretty close himself.

He quickened his pace as your moans grew louder, your pussy clenching around his cock, the euphoric feeling making your stomach twist and fill with a deep heat as you approached your orgasm.

Sweat was dripping down his forehead as he tightened his grip on your hips, pushing himself even closer to you to get himself slightly deeper into you.

Things were great, you were quite literally about to finish when his dick thrusted into you ever so slightly at an angle, causing you to yelp loudly in pain, your knees giving out beneath you as it quite literally felt like your cervix was sucker punched.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ow! Stop! jj stop!” You managed to let out, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempted to ride out what felt like a period cramp on steroids, your breathing staggered.

jj immediately halted all movements, pulling himself out of you the second you told him to stop. He had originally thought that your knees gave out due to pleasure, but he now realized it wasn’t that at all.

“Shit—What’s wrong? What happened?!” He asked, now fully panicked, moving himself closer to your face, gently pushing your hair out of your face so he could get a better look at you.

You fought back tears, forcing your eyes open to meet your boyfriend’s panicked ones, his eyes darting all over your face and down your body, expecting you to be bleeding or something with the way you had sounded.

“I don’t— fuck, I don’t know what happened but that last thrust felt like you punched or- or stabbed me in the cervix. Jesus Christ.” You groaned, attempting to take deep and slow breaths, but not move yourself too much because there was still that deep aching pain inside of you.

“Jesus…I-I’m so sorry, baby,” jj cooed, one of his hands hesitantly rubbing ever so slightly at your bare thigh as his other cupped your cheek, “that’s never happened before, I don’t know what I did. Do we need to like, go to the hospital? Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He rambled on, his heart racing in fear that he seriously messed up your insides, but he did his best to stay as calm and collected as he possibly could, not wanting to freak you out more than you already were. He didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You whispered after a moment. You could read him like a book, he was beating himself up over this. The lightness of his touch showed just how scared he was to hurt you.

“I think it’s just my endometriosis,” you sighed, your breathing slowly becoming more steady as the pain began to subside, “just hit a sensitive spot or somethin’.” You explained, reaching up to hold his hand that was holding your face.

He watched you carefully, eyes closing at your touch before fully laying down beside you and pulling you into his chest. He rubbed a hand down your naked back, his head resting atop yours as he kissed into your hair.

“Scared the shit out of me, baby…” he spoke after a moment, feeling your body begin to relax against his, continuing his soft and gentle touches on your back.

“It’s okay, the pain is starting to go away.” You assured him, his warm chest and his soft touch being the best comfort you could possibly ask for at the moment.

“That’s good, sweet thing. You wanna get up soon and we can take a bath or somethin’? Or you just wanna lay here some more?” He asked softly, peppering more sweet kisses onto your head.

“Mm, just wanna stay here a little bit longer. But I’m down for that bath later, though.” You hummed, curling into your sweet boyfriend.

You would definitely want a do-over later on once you were feeling fully better, but you would bring that up later, as jj was surely scared to ever be inside of you again.

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut

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darkmatilda · 7 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: if you were to look back, you would realize you had loved him forever. from the first glance, well, the first conversation in the garage of your family home during the christmas. but although time passed and you did everything you could to get his attention, you eventually realized he would never love you the way he loved your sister. the way you loved him.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x jareau!female!reader, angst, looots of angst prepare some tissues, unrequited love, reader is a theater/drama student, comparing herself to her sister, feeling of not being enough, unsupportive family, extremely overdramatic, the reader is delusional af and obsessively in love, reader smokes, inspired by lana's song "tomorrow never came"

𝐚/𝐧: it'a a request from lovely @lillaberry you asked me about my fav lana's song and i had huge problem with choosing just one, probably sth from "norman f*cking rockwell" like happiness is a butterfly or mariners apartment complex :> i have no idea what happened, but at some point, this story just started living its own life, i don't like it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.4k

Your friends always joked about how quickly you fell in love.

All it took was one interaction with someone—a small gesture, words that impressed you, a lingering glance, or holding a door open. And you were utterly smitten.

A psychologist would later tell you it probably stemmed from a lack of male attention during your upbringing. You shared one father with two sisters, and he couldn’t give you all the care and attention you needed. Then, he completely dropped off the radar. He left, and you were left with just your mom and JJ. Just the two of them.

Coming back, you weren’t a heartbreaker, a woman jumping from flower to flower. Maybe you fell in love quickly, but faithfully. A bit obsessively, as others said, but you preferred to call it “with all of yourself.” It sounded more poetic, subtle, and didn’t create an image in your mind of yourself dressed in a straitjacket, banging against the walls of a room without doors. Coming back again, this particular stage of your love life began exactly on Christmas Day, your first after starting college.

Since Dad left and your sister—well, you spent them very intimately. Mom prepared two, maybe three dishes, Aunt Martha brought a Pecan Pie (from the store, but pretended she baked it herself), and you and JJ baked gingerbread cookies early in the morning, decorating them for half the day. You were just shoving two gingerbread cookies into your mouth at once, leaning with your elbows on the kitchen counter, while your sister was busy setting the table.

"So, when is your friend arriving?" you asked, a few crumbs falling from your mouth. You brushed them off the counter and onto the floor.

"He should be here in about fifteen minutes. If he arrives earlier, he'll probably wait by the door until the exact hour strikes. That's Spencer," JJ snorted, smoothing her hands over the red tablecloth. "And stop saying friend like that. There's really nothing between us."

"Uh-huh. And that's why you invited him here for Christmas?"

She leaned against her hip, looking at you more seriously.

"Not everyone has the chance to spend the day with their loved ones. I didn't want him to be alone, okay?"

You raised your hands in mock surrender, still holding a gingerbread in one as a defensive gesture. Your sister sounded almost stern, just like your mom. Speaking of mom, someone slapped your hand.

"For god's sake, you're going to eat all the gingerbread. Do something, help JJ. Aunt Martha will be here soon..."

"She'll be fifteen minutes late, like always. She read somewhere that the Queen of England does that.”

"And when will your friend arrive?" Mom ignored your critical remark and turned to your older sister.

She had already opened her mouth to answer, probably saying the same thing she told you, when the doorbell rang.

"It must be him," she said and went to let him in.

Mom subtly adjusted her hairstyle.

"I saw that," you muttered.

"Oh, be quiet," she shot back.

Two people walked into the living room, where, in addition to a huge Christmas tree, there was also a fireplace decorated with spruce ornaments and stockings. The first was, of course, your sister, and the second was a tall man with an almost boyish face. Slim, you might even say, skinny. He was dressed elegantly, in a light shirt with a tie peeking out from under a black vest, the tie neatly tied at his neck. You immediately had the impression that he dressed like this every day, simply by the fact that everything fit him so well. Years ago, your second sister decided to introduce her boyfriend to your parents. He wanted to impress them with his elegant appearance, but even though you were very young at the time, you clearly remembered how uncomfortable he seemed in that kind of clothing, constantly adjusting something.

"You must be Spencer," greeted your mom with a wide smile, stepping forward. He shook her hand, and you noted in your mind that his grip was very weak, almost filled with hesitation. Well, he probably felt a bit awkward spending Christmas with strangers.

"That's right, ma'am," he replied, his hand falling back along his side. "I really...really appreciate the invitation."

"Oh, don't be silly, it's nothing. Do you work with JJ?"

"Yes, ma'am. We're on the same team."

His gaze slowly started to sweep the room, finally landing on you. Without moving from your spot, you waved at him. Behind Spencer, JJ crossed her arms and looked at you, turning her head in annoyance. You almost rolled your eyes, but instead, you simply got up with a martyr's expression and offered him your hand. Just as you suspected, his grip was gentle, unsure.

"I'm glad you're here," you said after introducing yourself. His face showed surprise, and you chuckled. "It's you Aunt Martha will bombard with questions. And her unapologetic criticism. Not me.Yay!"

His eyes widened in horror. They were dark and honest, one of those they call windows to the soul. JJ quickly grabbed him by the elbow and led him further inside.

"She was just joking," you managed to hear.

You were not. Aunt Martha and your mom shared one personality trait: meddling in other people's affairs and offering unsolicited opinions. The difference was that mom did it behind people's backs, secretly, so that the person being discussed never heard it, and their perfect image remained intact. Her sister didn’t care about that. And her favorite target for attack was you.

Spencer helped set the table despite the objections. He answered your mom's personal questions with precision and logic, which you found rather amusing. You wondered if he was always like that, or if stress just made him act this way. The only thing you knew about him from JJ was that he was a genius and had a doctorate at such a young age. Or maybe she had said a lot more, but that was the only detail that stuck with you, as a student, terrified at the very thought of a master's thesis.

Queen Elizabeth, or rather Aunt Martha, arrived fashionably late as usual, a good fifteen minutes behind schedule, immediately throwing out comments about the unshoveled driveway and how she almost died because of it. Oh, and also about how her neighbor's son is probably gay because he got an earring. Actually, that last issue seemed to bother her the most.

"I'm telling you, he was such a normal guy," she complained, setting down her bought, or rather freshly baked, pie on the kitchen island. "Used to be, anyway. Now, who knows what's going on in his head. Anyway, it's nice to see you, my darlings. JJ!" She embraced the girl tightly, planting kisses on her cheeks with a loud smacking sound.

You winced at the very sound of it, catching Spencer's eye. Your earlier comment must have scared him, because he was staring at your aunt as if she were holding an axe. She stopped, giving him a penetrating look from head to toe.

"And who’s this handsome young man? Darling sister, did you have a son I forgot about?" She laughed as if she’d told a brilliant joke. She pulled the tense Spencer towards her, kissing him on the cheek. "Of course, I’m just kidding, sweetheart. I heard JJ was bringing someone..."

When it was your turn, you reluctantly submitted to her kisses. At least this time, she didn’t have that awful purple lipstick, so there was no trace of it left on your cheeks.

“Oh my God, you really wore that for Christmas?” she almost wailed, placing her hands on your shoulders. It wasn’t that you were dressed inappropriately, just comfortably, instead of elegantly. Aunt Martha pinched you in the side. “Or maybe you’ve put on a little weight, huh? Trying to hide it? I bet college doesn’t stress you out enough to lose your appetite.”

“Actually, I have a lot of stress,” you admitted, sticking out your lower lip. It probably would’ve been better if you’d just kept quiet, but you couldn’t help yourself. “We’re putting on our first play in a real theater in January. We have rehearsals non-stop…”

“Oh, nonsense,” Aunt Martha dismissed it. “Shall we sit down at the table already? I’m starving…”

You did as she asked. The topic of your studies always came back like a boomerang, in the form of mockery. Your mom, and really no one in your immediate family, supported your choice, but at least they didn’t criticize it openly. They tried to talk you out of it, saying that after a theater degree, you wouldn’t find any work. But… you simply didn’t know what else you could do with your life. You didn’t have a logical mind or a talent for math like your oldest sister, nor the ambition or desire to help others like JJ. You were born a humanist, you liked to read, and even more so, perform all those scenes in front of an audience.

Aunt Martha just couldn’t get over it. And of course, even then, after just fifteen minutes, her eyes landed right on you.

“To be honest, I was hoping you’d drop it after the first semester. But obviously, no one has talked any sense into you yet. I’m telling you, give her a year, and she’ll come to her senses.”

You knew, you had learned that arguing with her was pointless. Soon, she would give up and latch onto someone else...

"Just look at JJ," she continued stubbornly. "She chose a respectable field, has a respectable job. Sure, her work might be a bit macabre for a woman, but at least she helps others. She’s doing something useful for others, for the world. And you?"

"Auntie," JJ gently scolded her, casting an apologetic glance your way.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Spencer setting down his fork, clasping his hands on his lap in a visibly uncertain, lost gesture. You could have gotten up, pushed your chair back with force. You could have done that, you could have even spilled your wine on your aunt's dress—your dramatic flair was enough to pull it off. And though your hands clenched into fists under the table, your knuckles turning white, you said nothing. It wasn’t worth causing a scene.

Instead, you were waiting for the end of dinner like salvation. And when it finally came, you disappeared into the garage, rubbing your chest, trying to loosen the strange tightness. The place had been empty ever since your father moved out and took his car with him. Without hesitation, you reached into your pants pocket and pulled out a pack with the remaining four cigarettes and a lighter. You felt a bit embarrassed by the fact that you were an adult, yet still hiding your smoking. Neither your mom nor JJ would approve of it. Neither would Aunt Martha.

But you needed it to calm your trembling hands after dinner.

You had barely lit the cigarette and taken a drag when someone entered through the door from the house. You quickly hid the cigarette behind your back. Jesus, you were really acting pathetic.

"Hey, it's me," Spencer said, quietly closing the door behind him.

The garage was dimly lit, and you couldn’t fully see his face. But he must have noticed the puff of smoke escaping from behind your back. You shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, uncertain of how to act. Did it concern him enough that he would tell JJ?

“You scared me,” you admitted, deciding to finally relax. You held out the pack toward him. “Did you come here to smoke too? Want one?”

“No…” he denied, clearing his throat. “I don’t smoke. I came… I came to check on you.”

“Check on me?” Surprised, you nearly choked on the smoke.

Even in the dim light, you noticed his shoulders tense up.

"I... Well... You know... those comments from your aunt were really awful," he finally said. "It was clear they hurt you."

For a moment, you were silent, your ears filled again with everything you heard that day.

"Maybe she had a point," you muttered under your breath, pausing to bring the cigarette to your lips. You tapped off the ash. "I have no idea what I’ll do after these studies. But whatever it is, it won't be as useful as what JJ does. Or you."

"You study theater, right? More important than whether what you're doing is useful is whether it makes you happy. Does it?"

You hesitated before answering, crushing the ash with your shoe.

"I think so."

Spencer was silent for a moment too, and the silence was so thick you could hear his breath.

"Okay, I have no idea how good of an actress you are. But judging by how you kept your cool during that dinner, probably brilliant. You've always wanted to be one?"

His questions took the words from you, filling you with a strange feeling. You realized that no one, none of your closest people, had ever asked you those things. They were too busy criticizing and warning you. Even JJ, though she supported you and you deeply appreciated that, mostly expressed concern rather than genuine interest.

"I can't really answer that," you said, the end of your cigarette now the only thing left in your hand. "I guess no one really knows who they are meant to be. And if someone does, I envy them. What about you?" you asked, "Did you always want to be a serial killer hunter?"

"A profiler, you mean?" he replied.

"Call it what you want."

He shook his head with a small chuckle.

"That's a tough question, I have to admit."

“See, that's too existential. Don’t you have any other questions?”

“Hmm, I think I can come up with some,” he mused for a moment. “You mentioned you’re putting on a play in January. What’s it about?”

You told him about the preparations for Antigone, your role as Ismene. It turned out that he knew the play very well. No, he really knew it—not just fragments of information from high school lessons. Engrossed in your discussion, neither of you noticed how much time had passed or how long you’d been gone. It’s possible others were wondering where you’d disappeared to, but at that moment, you couldn’t care less. For the first time, you were talking to someone outside your university who actually knew so much about theatre. You couldn’t stop talking, your words tumbling out so fast that your cheeks turned red from lack of air.

When JJ announced that she’d invited the doctor for Christmas, it never crossed your mind that you'd find such a great conversationalist in him. You had imagined a stiff, grim man in a lab coat. Not a funny, versatile guy like him. He could be a bit awkward at times, but in his case, it was endearing.

Eventually, you returned home, to the living room. Aunt Martha had left early in the evening, and it was just the three of you left, the atmosphere relaxed.

"Are you okay?" JJ whispered to you at one point, her lips pressed together in concern.

You nodded, genuinely. You'd already managed to push the dinner out of your mind. You were mostly thinking about... Spencer. He stayed late, and you all played cards. Everyone, including your mom. A few times, he caught you cheating, and you noticed a sharp gleam in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say a word. You tried again to draw him into a conversation as long and passionate as the one you’d had in the garage, but the presence of the rest of your family made it difficult.

They joked a lot with JJ, sometimes talking only between themselves about people and things you had no clue about. You’d interrupt then, desperately trying to steer the conversation toward something you could follow. But whenever their gazes met again, their smiles aligning at the same moment, you felt like the annoying younger sister, just a nuisance to them.

JJ made him show off some card tricks. You wondered if there was anything he couldn’t do, anything he wasn’t knowledgeable about. In your eyes, as the hours passed, he started to become... everything.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Dressed in your pajamas and robe, you smoked another cigarette in the garage. Though you’d only spent a few hours together, most of them not even alone, in your mind, a certain thought began to form more vividly—one both unsettling and exhilarating.

You had fallen in love.

Desperately, you hoped JJ might invite Spencer over for dinner again, giving you another chance to see him. But it didn’t happen. Still, Spencer filled your thoughts every single day, to the point where you couldn’t focus on your classes or the rehearsals.

Rehearsals! Everyone was incredibly stressed about how you’d perform. On a real stage, not just the small one at your university, in front of a real audience. The nerves consumed you so much that you burned through pack after pack of cigarettes, probably smelling like an uncleaned chimney. You were on the verge of asking JJ for his number and inviting him out, openly and without any pretense. Just to stop thinking about him, even for a moment...

You were given two tickets to hand out to your loved ones. One, of course, went to JJ. The other…

“Sorry, sweetheart,” your mom said over the phone, just a day before the performance. “I’m heading to Aunt Martha’s today and staying the whole weekend. She’s feeling awful, you know her heart issues.”

You didn’t know who else you could invite. Dad always grimaced at the mere mention of the word theater. And then JJ suggested she could ask Spencer if he’d like to come. You stared at her, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to kiss her. Out of gratitude, of course. No, that wasn’t enough. You wanted to fall at her feet and kiss them with tears of joy, thanking her endlessly. In your eyes, she now had angelic wings and a glowing halo around her head.

Sweet JJ. Best sister in the whole world.

Of course, you agreed.

But the thought of him watching your performance only intensified your stress. JJ had said she wanted to see you before the show to wish you luck. You suggested meeting both of them by the fountain near the theater—the one where you often smoked before rehearsals, either with your classmates or alone. Already dressed in your costume, you walked to the meeting spot on shaky legs. It was all about to begin. Too soon.

You lit a cigarette without giving a second thought to the fact that your sister was about to show up. Even when you heard footsteps behind you as you sat on the bench facing the fountain, you didn’t put it out. But to your surprise, when you turned around, it wasn’t JJ—it was Spencer.

“Nerves getting to you?” he asked as a greeting.

Your stomach leapt into your throat, and something inside you fluttered. You hadn’t seen him in three weeks, not long enough for him to have changed in any way. Yet, it felt like you were seeing him for the first time in years, and your joy at the sight of him was nearly overwhelming.

You swallowed, trying your best to seem casual.

“Doesn’t it show?” You raised the hand holding the cigarette, your fingers trembling visibly.

"Isn't it cold?" he asked, stepping closer and stopping by the bench. You moved over, making space for him. You were, indeed, freezing. You'd come outside in your stage costume, without any jacket or coat. Spencer looked you over carefully. "You know, I have some doubts about whether you could actually get Martens and silk dresses in ancient Thebes."

"Of course, you could. Martens, the Greek god of footwear. Haven't you heard of him?"

With amusement, he raised an eyebrow.

"This is a modern interpretation of Antigone," you explained finally, pointing again at your outfit. "Here, she's a feminist, a force of resistance against Creon's patriarchal power. These shoes paired with the delicate dress are a subtle expression of Ismene's rebellion. What do you think? Don't you like the idea? You seem surprised. Did you think it was going to be a traditional version of the play?"

"Oh, well, that's exactly what I thought," he admitted, blinking twice, lost in thought. "But I'm not disappointed or anything," he added hastily. "Actually, I'm... even more curious to see this play. Your interpretation."

After these words, he shifted uncertainly in his place, still staring at you. Finally, he sighed and began to remove his brown coat.

"Take it, okay? You're shaking, and... it's just unpleasant to watch," he said.

"No, stop," you tried to stop him, though deep down you couldn't wait for his coat to fall over your bare shoulders. "It's just for a moment, I'll go back inside soon..."

"...And you'd better not go on stage all gray and stiff from the cold. Really, you can... you can take it."

You pretended to give in. You handed him your cigarette to hold while you slipped your arms into both sleeves. At the same time, you tried not to show too much impatience. A pleasant warmth spread across your back, the protective layer, as well as the scent of his cologne.

"Thank you," you said quietly, unable to stop a small smile from forming. A similar one appeared on his face as well. You both sat in silence for a moment, not sure what else to say, as so much time had passed since your last conversation. You didn’t want to bring up your sister, but... her delay started to worry you.

"Where... where is JJ, actually? We were supposed to meet here," you asked.

"Oh," Spencer sighed, as if he had just remembered something. "Right... sorry, she asked me to let you know that she won’t be able to make it on time. She’ll get to the performance, but she'll be a little late. She had to stay at work a bit longer."

You nodded with disappointment, though deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with how things had turned out. You could meet your sister anytime, but with Spencer? You needed a good excuse.

"You know... I'm really glad you came.”

He shrugged dismissively, avoiding your gaze when you tried to look him in the eyes.

"Don’t mention it... really. I’m the one who’s glad you agreed when JJ decided to invite me," he said.

You fell silent after his words, something dawning on you. While you would be performing on stage, the two of them would be sitting right next to each other, together. Before the show started, they’d probably talk again about all those things and people you didn’t know, from outside your world. And you wouldn’t be around to analyze every little smile, to discover what might lie behind them. Friendship, or something more? Though before, during the holidays, when you hadn’t met him yet, you had often joked that something might be between him and JJ, it was only then that it really hit you.

You pressed the cigarette to your lips, not realizing it had already gone out.

If it came down to it, who were you to compete with JJ? You loved her, but you were also painfully aware that she was everything you could never be. The perfect daughter, the pride of the family.

"I have to go," you said, your voice sounding strange, as if it came from somewhere outside of your body.

You tried to take off his coat, but he stopped you with a gesture of his hand.

"You can give it to me after the show. Honestly, I deeply hate that saying, because of how utterly meaningless it is... though maybe I just understand it too literally... anyway, break a leg."

Despite your earlier gloomy thoughts and conclusions, you let out a laugh.

JJ arrived as promised, during the performance. You were too focused on your role to notice her entrance, and of course, it was dark in the theater. The way she hugged you afterward made you feel guilty for all the things you'd thought about her that day. All the hidden jealousy, not just about Spencer, but about everything.

She suggested a dinner afterward, and the three of you spent a pleasant evening together. Not once that night did you suspect it would become a tradition. That this pair would start attending all your performances, becoming faces you could look for in the crowd. Your friends had their parents there to cheer them on, you had them.

Around that time, your relationship started to get really strange.

As time passed, the awareness that you were in love with Spencer became a fact coded into your soul. Undeniable and constant. Always present. At the same time, you didn’t see each other alone too often. Your mom liked him enough to invite him to the family home frequently, which he accepted. A few times you went to the movies with him and JJ, once you dragged them both to an art exhibition because you were afraid that if you invited him alone, he might refuse.

He quickly became a family friend, including of course, yours. But you and he, alone, saw each other... incredibly rarely. The only moments were those before the performances. You’d wait for them by the bench near the fountain, and he would always arrive before JJ. You’d spend about fifteen minutes talking, just the two of you. In your eyes, those fifteen minutes held an indescribable, sacred weight. If you could, you would’ve built an altar for each of those minutes and laid before it every morning, on your knees, for an hour. It was starting to sound a bit obsessive, wasn’t it?

But over time, it became insufficient. Not knowing how else to fill the emptiness that his absence left in you, you started sending him messages—simple good mornings and good nights. Sometimes you'd ask how his day had gone. Once, by accident, you called him. He picked up, and you ended up chatting. You started doing it regularly. Beautiful moments, where two separate spaces were filled only by your voices, without JJ's presence.

These conversations were like therapy for you after every meeting with the two of them. Because during them...

It dawned on you how close they were. The two of them. They were connected by their work, their passion, their interests. And you had no fucking clue why that damn Ted Bundy killed people, or what the hell the reason behind it was, other than the fact that he was a psychopath. What was the actual difference between a psychopath and a sociopath? Murder and manslaughter—what was the difference there?

Of course, it wasn't that they only talked about that. In fact, they rarely touched on their work in front of you, but still, it bothered you to such an extent that over time, your apartment started to fill with criminology books, which you shoved under the bed when your sister came over. You didn’t know what you were trying to achieve—drawing his attention?

But there was one thing that drove you into true psychological devastation. The smiles Spencer gave JJ. Sometimes she’d say something, joke, tell a story, and he’d listen to her with that exact expression on his face. A discreet tenderness and... and... you couldn't keep describing it any longer. You felt like jumping out of the window just at the thought of it. Because you were sure he never looked at you that way. No matter how hard you tried to impress him, how many card tricks you learned, how many books on psychopaths you read.

He still saw you only as his little sister.

But you... you still tried. Because even though sometimes you felt like it was all pointless, most of the time you were filled with that hopeless hope. He became close to you, not just in a romantic sense. You saw in him a support you couldn’t find in your family. He was the one you could turn to with problems you faced at college; he didn’t roll his eyes or dismiss your issues, but listened with genuine concern. He made you feel like your career path might actually have some meaning.

That's why you called him that day.

There was this one particular day of the year. Especially painful. The anniversary of the day your sister took her own life. At some point, you didn't even know when, you and JJ had made an unspoken decision to spend that day apart. She took it particularly hard, claiming she needed isolation. You, on the other hand... wandered around your apartment like a ghost, unable to focus on anything, searching for some kind of embrace that could ease the pain.

“Hey,” he answered on the other end of the line, always sounding a little surprised when greeting you, as if he hadn't expected you to call. “What’s... what’s going on?”

“Spencer,” you only whispered his name, glued to the couch in your apartment, unable to move for the past hour. Saying his name alone helped a little. Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. “Sorry for calling... but…”

“But?” he asked, his tone concerned. “Is something... something wrong?”

You nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see it. It was funny, though, because it felt like you could see him. At least a vivid image of him in his apartment, a place you’d never been, but somehow, you knew how it looked. In his post-work clothes, with the longer strands of hair tucked behind one ear on one side. Those brown eyes.

“Could you come? To… to mine?”

You heard him swallow nervously.

"Sure. But... never mind, I'll be there soon. Just... wait."

He arrived, just as promised.

You hugged him for the first time since you had known each other. You initiated it, sinking into his arms, burying your face in his chest and breathing deeply. You had imagined this moment countless times... and it didn’t meet your expectations. You probably hoped he would embrace you with some hidden strength, almost crushing you and kissing the top of your head. Instead, his hug was surprised and withdrawn.

You stepped back a step, and for a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You weren’t really sure what to say.

"Today... today is the anniversary of her death," you finally blurted out.

Actually... you weren't even sure if he knew about it. Spencer straightened up with understanding. So JJ must have told him.

"Oh... now I get it," he said slowly. He rubbed his forehead, still caught in some confusion, disorientation. Well, you had to admit, you had put him in a somewhat awkward position.

"That explains... that explains why JJ was acting like this today," he murmured under his breath. You gave him a questioning look. "She was very quiet. Closed off."

"That's how she handles grief," you explained, tightening your cardigan around yourself. "She isolates herself and doesn’t want to see anyone. Not even me or Mom."

Spencer fell silent for a moment, his expression distant and blank. It hurt, and you wished he would be present, right there, next to you. That’s why you called him. Not for him to drift back to thoughts of her. It pained you, your own selfishness. Your own cruelty.

"Don’t you think we should... at least check on her?" he suggested uncertainly.

You quickly shook your head in disagreement.

"As I said, she doesn’t want to see anyone. I think we should... we should let her have her solitude."

"Alright. You're her sister, you... I believe you know what's best for her," his tone sounded as if he was trying to convince himself that his words were true. He sighed again. "But I'm glad you decided to call me. How... how can I help you?"

You weren’t saying this out of jealousy, you honestly believed it was the best thing for your sister. For a moment, silence fell between you again. He didn’t seem convinced, but he finally sighed.

You moved your lips, wanting to say I don't know but no words came out.

"Just," you began, swallowing. "Be with me."

He hugged you... and that hug was closer to how you had imagined it once. Much closer. Most of all, it didn't just sink into your body like a toy; he actively tried to make it clear that he was there, that he was with you, and you could rely on him. And you had no reason not to believe it.

You spent the whole evening together. Watching TV wasn’t the most ambitious pastime, but it was just a less depressing excuse to sit in silence on the couch. Lying, actually. You rested your pillow on his lap, placed your heads together. The faces on the screen blurred, you didn’t hear any sounds, you only felt his hand gently, occasionally brushing your back. He did it at irregular intervals, as if afraid you would catch him in the act. It was a short, fleeting motion, and you wondered afterward if you had imagined it.

You walked him to the door when it was time for him to leave. You said goodbye, but didn’t close the door to the apartment, standing still in it.

“Spencer,” you said, when he started walking down the stairs. Before he turned, he flinched. The air in your lungs had been gathering into one big, terribly heavy ball for some time, and you could barely release it. “You’re going to check on her, right?”

He opened his mouth, but said nothing. Finally, he lowered his head, and when he looked back at you, there was so much determination, so much sense of duty in his gaze.

"I..." he began, taking a breath. "I have to do this. Even if she doesn't want to see anyone. I wouldn't forgive myself if I found out later that I wasn’t there when she needed someone."

You understood it. You loved him for it. You were grateful. At the same time, you hated him, though it wasn't hate aimed at him. Nor at JJ.

It was hate aimed solely at yourself.

You allowed your desire to have him all to yourself to overshadow your sister.

The last play you performed during your first year of college was The Sorrows of Young Werther.

It was a huge event, a lot of work, rehearsals, and stress. Your contact with both Spencer and JJ suffered because you simply didn’t have the time. All of it… took a toll on your mental state. You were someone who threw herself deeply into the roles you played. You imagined the words spoken on stage as if they came from your own mouth, reflecting your true thoughts and desires. And even though you didn’t play the lead role, the suffering Werther, you began to live the play.

If woken up in the middle of the night with a slap to the face, you would’ve been able to recite the entire script, having read it so many times. You wrote on it with a pencil, highlighted passages, as if it were your personal Bible. At the same time, it filled you with a sense of patheticness. Was there anything you could do to avoid the fate of Werther?

It was evening, and you hadn’t left your apartment that day. You couldn’t even remember if you had gotten out of bed at all. Eventually, unable to look at the crossed-out script anymore, you shoved it under the bed. You had accumulated a lot of things there. You picked up a deck of cards.

You remembered that Christmas, the one where everything began. The Christmas tree and the three of you sitting on the carpet. Spencer, showing some odd trick, and you and JJ, trying to guess how he did it. You reveled in the memory of the early stage of your infatuation.

The phone rang.

"Can you come over?" JJ's voice came through without any greeting. Normally, you would have joked, asked how about a hello? “But she sounded too serious, frighteningly serious. You swallowed. "Please."

You started getting dressed before you even agreed. Because of course, you did. You knew it wasn’t about something trivial, something insignificant. That didn’t fit with JJ. Something real must have happened…

In moments like these, your complicated relationship with your sister was simplified. It was broken down into its basic elements, leaving only what was fundamental. The bond. A simple, pure sisterly bond that could be stretched but never broken.

You stepped inside, the door was open. That alone unnerved you. Your heart leaped into your throat as you heard her call you into the bathroom. JJ was sitting on the closed toilet seat, clutching something tightly in her hand.

"God, what happened? You have no idea how scared that phone call made me..."

"Can you look at this?" she interrupted, her usually tanned face was pale, just white, like snow or a blank sheet of paper.

You blinked in confusion and looked at the object she handed you. When you realized what it was, a sound escaped your lips, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

"Are you... are you... is this...?"

"I have no fucking idea, just check!"

You took the pregnancy test from her, and it slipped from your hands.

You stared at the positive result.

JJ wasn’t trembling, her body unnaturally stiff, her face unreadable. You didn’t know what to say, you had no idea what her stance was. It didn’t seem like it was a planned pregnancy; she hadn’t even been seeing anyone… Suddenly, a wave of terror gripped your back. What if...?

She could no longer wait for you to deliver the news. You were speechless, unable to say anything. Almost ripping the test from your hand, her mouth opened in shock.

You slowly approached to touch her shoulder. That gentle touch quickly turned into an embrace.

"JJ," you whispered into her neck, still terrified of what you might hear. But you pushed all the theories aside for once, focusing only on her. "What... what are you going to do now?"

Your sister held onto the hug, but when she pulled away, her eyes were filled with tears. Happy tears.

"I’m going to be a mom."

There it was—the happy news. God, you felt like you were about to start crying too. The only thing stopping you was...

"But what about... what about... who..." The question was shockingly hard to phrase. Each version of it sounded brutal in its own way. "Who’s the father?"

“His name is Will. We’ve been together for a while… I haven’t told anyone, we haven’t seen each other much lately and…”

You sank back into her arms, happy, truly happy. For a moment, a thought crossed your mind—that it could have been someone else’s child. You didn’t know what you would’ve done if that had turned out to be true. You stayed with her for several hours, both of you behaving as though you’d lost your minds. You took turns crying—when one of you stopped, the other started.

"But... you're the first person I've told," she said when you were about to leave. "And I want you to keep this just between us for now, okay? Don’t tell Mom, and not even Spencer."

"Of course, JJ, I wouldn't..."

You were a terrible sister. As soon as you left the apartment, you quickened your pace, determined to break the promise you had made. And you had nothing to defend yourself with, except for that surreal vision that had formed in your mind. You thought… that if Spencer found out…everything he felt for JJ would have to fade away. That was the way things went: your love interest moves on with someone else, you suffer for a while, and then you move on. Or not, but in fewer cases.

In any case, you fooled yourself into thinking that once he knew, he would turn in another direction. Toward you. The one who had loved him from the first sight. Well, more precisely, from the first conversation in the garage. You dialed his number, walking through the dark city, which suddenly seemed so small. So insignificant. All those people around, who were they? You felt like a madwoman, almost running without knowing where. Or maybe you did know. Or rather, your legs knew.

The fountain and the bench right next to it, where you spent time before every one of your plays. Just the two of you. All those conversations swirled in your ears so vividly that you didn’t even hear Spencer speak on the other end.

"We need to meet," you announced, cutting off whatever he had been about to say. "Please, it’s important. I need to tell you something. At our bench, okay?"

He was silent, clearly taken aback.

"You mean... like, now?" he asked, followed by a confused sigh. "I’m not in town right now… I’m visiting my mom," he explained, swallowing hard. You’d never met her, but you knew it was a sensitive subject for him.

You came to a stop, your chest heaving as you caught sight of the fountain in the distance—the destination of your hurried march. "I really can’t today," he added.

"Tomorrow then," you decided, undeterred.

"Can you at least tell me what’s going on? Don’t take this the wrong way, but… you sound really off. I think… I think I’m starting to worry…"

"Don’t worry. It’s nothing urgent. It can wait. I just need to tell you something, and it has to be face-to-face."

On the other end, he cleared his throat, still clearly off-balance, but eventually agreed. Just before you hung up, you drew in a deep breath and blurted out more words, almost without thinking.

"It’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I want to…" you paused, a strange laugh escaping your lips. "Confess. It’s about… my feelings."

Spencer remained silent. He didn’t hang up, just stayed quiet. You couldn’t even hear his breathing, as if he’d moved the phone away from his ear, away from his mouth. You hesitated, suddenly hit by a thought. What if you… scared him? You pulled the phone away from your own ear for a moment as well, trying to calm your breathing, which had turned uneven, almost like a sob.

“So, tomorrow?” you asked to confirm.

The silence stretched on, and you nervously started biting your nail.

“Tomorrow’s gonna rain,” he said suddenly, his voice so soft you almost missed it. You frowned in confusion, letting out a questioning hum. “Tomorrow’s gonna rain. Let’s just meet at my place instead.”

It seemed logical, but somehow you were stuck on the vision of the two of you in that specific place. That bench, where he gave you his coat when you were freezing in your Ismene costume.

“No, please. I want it to be there. The rain… the rain doesn’t bother me,” you insisted.

“Okay,” he said with a hint of resignation, sounding a bit like he was giving in. “Okay, okay. Tomorrow. Fine.”

You slipped your phone into your pocket, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

Even though you had nothing to do in this part of town, you could’ve just headed back home. Yet, you paused for a moment in front of the fountain. That’s when you realized you’d left your cigarettes at JJ’s apartment. Oddly, you didn’t care. Only one thing, one thought felt important right now.

Tomorrow. Sweet, long-awaited tomorrow.

The fountain. The water flowing through it. The water that never stopped. Just like your love—constant, despite never being returned.

You sat down on the bench, a single tear slipping from your eye. Somehow... deep down, you already knew that tomorrow wouldn’t come. Not the tomorrow you’d imagined. Not the one that would stay true to your hopes, your dreams, and your visions.

In that moment, you felt connected to another version of yourself—one sitting on this very bench, despite the pouring rain and the relentless passing of hours.

Tomorrow. The tomorrow that never came.

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@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal mind #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst

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rubiehart · 5 months ago

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being jj’s passenger princess after a long day at work was a god send, especially when he treats you exactly how he should…

“can i borrow your lipstick?”

“yeah, it’s somewhere in here.”

the clatter of items from the two girl's bag's fills the silence of the dingy tikki bar’s bathroom, bringing you back to reality as you blink slowly in the mirror, hands gripping the porcelain sink as you sigh.

rude customers, and pervy old men, mixed with the heatwave the outer banks was currently suffering was a recipe for disaster, leaving you in a fowl mood all night, counting down the hours until you could stumble into your bestfriend’s truck and into john b’s guest bed with him.

at the distant buzz of your phone a wave of relief washes over you, reaching into the back pocket of your jean shorts, eyes landing on the little buzzing screen, lit up with his name.

pressing your back against the wall, you jab at the screen eagerly with a fingernail painted with chipper glittery polish, bringing to phone to your ear, breathing out an exhausted 'hey.’ fiddling with the hem of your uniformed waist apron.

"m’ outback, y’ need me to come walk you out? ‘s gettin’ dark- pretty fast." he hums, the sound of the blinker in background as he pulls into the parking lot.

you nod like he can see you, pressing into the corner of your eye with your ring finger, swiping away an rogue flake of mascara, before settling for an exhausted. ‘uh- nah, it’s fine. be one sec.” before promptly ending the call.

the slap of your sandals against the tarmac speeds up as you approach him, arms folded over his chest with that knowing smirk on his face, leaning against the hood of the twinkie.

you almost groan at the sight, tan forearms bulging unfairly. you practically throw yourself into his waiting arms, leaning your head on his shoulder. he’s startled for a second, eyes going wide, but then his arms are encircling your waist and his lips pressed to your crown, fighting the urge to kiss the skin softly, settling for just inhaling your shampoo.

“i fuckin’ missed you - never thought i’d say it." you hum jokingly, pulling away to look him in the eyes, his hands sliding lower to rest on the backs of your thighs. "missed you too my girl - always do." he says, titling his head down towards you with a teasing pout.

your heart flips at that, his girl, you knew, duh, just nice for it to be affirmed, especially when he’s looking at you like that in an empty parking lot. makes you contemplate if this friendship was worth ruining just to persue your fantasies.

“cmon, gimme some sugar.” he smirks, and it’s joking of course, but who is jj if not persistent? so he leans down a little anyway, doesn’t expect to feel the wet smush of your lips to his jaw, only now does he realise you’re a little tipsy - having been sneaking shots under the bar all day just to deal with your shift.

"that new?" he asks, feigning nonchalance when you pull away, running a gentle thumb across your chin to wipe away some excess gloss.

"yeah- got it last week. don’t you just looove it?" you smile hopefully and he nods, chucking softly as your excited little pout, hands sliding up and down your thighs as he replies, supportive as ever. "damn right- i love it. might cop myself some." he teases, giving a fleeting pat to your denim covered ass, rounding the car to open your door, gesturing for you to get in.

your cheeks heat up at the casual act, following his footsteps. "think y’ a gentleman? you ain’t foolin’ anyone." you grin, taking his hand to hop up into the truck, he averts his gaze, jaw clenching when you stumble, falling with your literal ass in the air.

once you’re situated, hand still in his, so flustered as he presses his chapped lips to your hand, charming smirk on his face, hair all disheveled and looking edible in the orange glow of the streetlights. “i am - only for you though, mama.”

he rounds the car to sink months agoat, turning the key in the ignition and you can't help admire the way his forearms tense at the action. the car kicks to life and you're both off.

after driving for five or so minutes, you were getting a little restless, unable to ignore how perfectly his jawline was highlighted by the streetlights, or how the hand he’d smoothly rested on your thigh was slowly sliding further and further towards where you wanted - scratch that, needed it most.

you weren't even sure he knew what he was doing to you, but you couldn't wait to find out. it was pathetic really, just how easily you could go from 0 to 100, but you were past the point of caring, and all you was for him to make you feel good.

on impulse, you reach for the hand caressing your thigh, his eyes flit to you, unsure of what you're intention was until he meets your eyes. he could recognise that glazed over needy look anywhere, the one you get when you’re scouting out boys at the boneyard, or the beach, or wherever, all this time he’s wanted you to look at him like that, and now you were? he thinks he’s gonna stop breathing.

you drag his hand gently up your body to rest on your tit, which he squeezes on instinct, eyes only half focused on the road. he lets out a gruff, unsure call of your name, clearing his throat, wondering if he should stop.

the action illicites a pretty little whimper from you, which he takes as motivation to keep you making those noises. he darts his eyes between the busy road and you, legs spread and lips parted, eyes fluttering gently as he rubs a thumb over your pebbled nipple through the bobbly material of your graphic tee, scarce of a thick enough bra.

navigating the bustle of traffic was a challenge in itself, but now he'd have to multitask, dipping his hand down between your legs, already feeling the warmth radiating off of you through your denim shorts as you eagerly begin popping the buttons, head thrown back against the head rest, eyes on him. “please, jay..." you mewl, and he knows the risks. but fortunately for you, jj likes a challenge.

#divider by roseraris ♡#i imagine this during the end of season 2 before poguelandia #before poguelandia they mess around but don’t really go further than drunk make outs and dry humping..#꒰ bsf!reader ꒱ྀི #bsf!reader #꒰ bsf!jj ꒱ྀི #jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank blurb #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank obx #obx

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rothpie · 7 months ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part10

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: mentioning miscarriage, mentioning abortion, kind of depression, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy cramps, mentioning blood, mentioning losing someone, daddy issues, mentioning violence.

Selly’s note: I cried while writing this. Sorry not sorry.

previous - next

Everything that happened was terrifying. Waiting for the ambulance while covered in blood, the fear of not knowing what would happen—it left you feeling like you wouldn’t be able to shake it off for a while.

You were trying to piece your life back together. The loneliness here, the ever-present ache in your heart, had never really left you. Rafe wanting you to go through with the abortion, the struggle to embrace the idea of motherhood, knowing you’d have to do it alone, the hormones—everything about that time had been suffocatingly stressful.

Moments where you felt normal were rare. You couldn’t even remember if there were any times you truly enjoyed this pregnancy. It was just stress. Always stress.

You waited, you hoped for the stress to pass. You longed for a time when you’d leave it behind and start building better memories. But all that remained was the stress. And then you found yourself covered in blood, desperately searching for someone to help.

You thought all that stress might have been for nothing.

Was "nothing" even the right word? You hated yourself for even thinking about your baby in that way. But wasn’t it true?

You’d left everything behind. Rafe, your friends, your family, your home… everything. All to start a new life with just your baby girl.

Was everything you did leading to this—losing her?

“Stop stressing out.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut down the relentless thoughts. You couldn’t stop blaming yourself, your stupidity, your mistakes. Your hands instinctively rubbed your face, and for a moment, it felt like you’d never pull yourself back together. You felt like you needed a slap—maybe from yourself—to snap out of it.

JJ’s grip on your arm didn’t loosen. His other hand rested against your back, steadying you. “I hate this,” you murmured.

You felt drained. Your lower abdomen ached, waves of pain pulsed through your belly, and you’d lost so much blood. You knew you were on the verge of passing out but somehow managed to stay awake. The image of your blood on the floor was burned into your mind, dragging you back to that moment over and over again.

“Everything’s fine. I told you. Just stop stressing out.” But a gnawing feeling inside you said otherwise. It felt like you didn’t believe him. Like they weren’t telling you something—that you’d already lost the baby. It was paranoia, of course. Your obsessive, overthinking mind had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times.

Your hand rested on your belly. You wanted to feel her, even though you knew it was too early. Yet the faint swelling beneath your palm gave you some reassurance. “I can’t get it out of my head. It just—won’t go away. I’m scared.”

Admitting it out loud was never easy. But it was true. You were scared. Terrified.

You were scared you’d lose your daughter before you even had the chance to hold her. Scared that the life you’d imagined with her might never come to be.

The sound of ambulance sirens carrying you away from your home to the hospital sent chills down your spine. Knowing it could all end in an instant consumed you.

You hated it. You hated every ounce of it. God, you wanted this baby. You wanted to be a mother. You wanted to erase that brief moment when you’d considered an abortion from your memory.

For the first time, you felt like you had something to hold onto. You felt what it was like to love someone without even knowing them, seeing them, or meeting them. Listening to her heartbeat, staring at her ultrasound image, you felt that love. You saw it. Not Rafe, not anyone else. You saw how happy it made you.

You’d never felt so happy in your life. It was the happiest time you’d ever known. You loved your daughter unconditionally. You thought about her constantly—what she’d look like, her eye color, her nose, her tiny hands, how she’d look in the little outfits you’d bought—everything.

You wanted her. With all your heart and soul, you wanted her. You longed for the days when she’d be in your arms. You wished time would fly so those moments could arrive.

You loved someone without expecting anything in return.

The idea that she wouldn’t give you anything was ridiculous.

She was everything. She was already giving you the world. How could you not love her? The world might not revolve around you, but your world, your tiny, fragile world, was ready to revolve around her.

Rafe’s betrayal, the inability to trust anyone enough to share this pregnancy, had already shattered you. You’d hit rock bottom. And the only thing that could pull you out was clear—your little girl.

You lived for the thought of her. You woke up every day with her in mind. Even through the stress, you thought of her. Of your future together.

In this place, she was the only thing you had.

You couldn’t lose her. You didn’t want to. You were already bound to the idea of being her mother. She was the reason you got up every morning.

You hated this. You hated everything. You hated everything that threatened to take your daughter away from you. You hated how easily she could slip through your fingers, how a single moment could take her from you.

The hardest part was sitting in the hospital, bloodied and waiting for results. Your phone sat nearby, and you waited for any call other than JJ’s.

You felt like throwing up at the thought of having no one else to call. The person you reached out to, the person who tried for you, had only been in your life for four months. You weren’t even close. Barely a friend, certainly not a best friend, and definitely not a boyfriend.

He was just a kind-hearted guy.

The Kook-Pogue divide was real for you. They had money, power, influence—whatever. Not one of them had been there to catch you when you fell. Not one of them had reached out a hand to help.

What looked best on people, you’d decided, wasn’t jewelry or designer clothes. It was compassion.

You didn’t want to call yourself helpless, but you were. Struggling was normal. Flailing, failing to stand, that was normal. Accepting help was just as normal. It didn’t make you look foolish.

You didn’t regret calling Rafe. You weren’t even sure if you were angry at him. You couldn’t think about him when your whole body was screaming in pain. He wasn’t the focus.

Your mind was on your baby. On the results.

It took JJ two hours to show up. To be fair—this wasn’t to insult him—he didn’t have a penny to his name. Yet he still came. He left the island for you. You felt a twinge of guilt, but it blended with all the other things weighing on you. You couldn’t stop overthinking.

At some point, you felt like you’d turned to stone. You couldn’t cry. You could only breathe, think, exist. Until you saw JJ.

Was four months enough time to feel close to someone? You didn’t know. Especially considering the “friendship” you had with him. But the second you saw him, tears streamed down your face.

Seeing someone who made you feel safe, someone you didn’t have to hide your fears from, made you feel less alone.

In what felt like a moment meant to be, JJ wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say a word. As you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, you didn’t care how you looked. You saw warmth and security in the embrace, and you dove into it without hesitation.

Having someone there for you filled your heart with a quiet kind of comfort.

You cried and sobbed in his arms without shame. JJ didn’t seem to mind. You couldn’t see his face or hear his voice, but you felt his fingers brushing through your hair, his hand moving gently across your back to soothe you.

He held you. He didn’t let go. He just let you feel his presence. With every passing second, he slowly pulled the fear out of you. You didn’t need to say a single word—he understood.

You didn’t need to speak. Your actions said it all.

Crying in his arms during such a painful moment didn’t make you feel weak. Quite the opposite—it made you feel stronger. It gave you hope that somehow, everything would be okay.

He held you close until you calmed down. Maybe it was gross—perhaps you smelled of blood—but he didn’t care. When your sobbing turned into a quieter, monotonous rhythm, he pulled a chair beside the bed. Sitting next to you, he stroked your arm gently. He made sure you felt his presence—not just physically, but emotionally too. Whether he did it consciously or not, you couldn’t tell. But you felt it. He seemed to have a natural ease about him in moments like this.

Finding out it wasn’t a miscarriage brought relief. Knowing your baby was still there, still growing inside you, gave you a renewed sense of hope for the future. But with every piece of good news, there always seemed to be a shadow of bad news lurking.

The doctor explained that your pregnancy carried a higher risk of miscarriage. “It doesn’t mean you will,” the doctor clarified. “It’s just a possibility.”

Even so, the news left your mending heart with a fresh wound. You didn’t want to go through that same pain again; the thought terrified you. JJ stayed by your side, his reassuring touch grounding you, his hand resting firmly on your shoulder.

You felt as though you were observing the moment from the outside, watching the tension in your body slowly unravel. Like the fear was being drawn out of you, little by little.

The doctor’s words about potential causes lit up something in your mind.

Deli meats, infections, alcohol and smoking, certain herbal teas—

Your thoughts drifted to all those teas you’d sipped to ease your nausea. You felt like a complete fool.

You tried not to dwell on it, but the guilt still gnawed at you.

The doctor prescribed some vitamins to strengthen your pregnancy and support the baby’s health. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for the IV drip to finish. JJ insisted you try to sleep. You doubted you could, and you were right. You drifted in and out of restless slumber.

By the time you left the hospital and arrived back at your house, dawn was breaking.

“I’m throwing out all the herbal teas in this house,” you muttered, reaching for the flowerpot where you hid your spare key. JJ stopped you midway, brushing past to reach the pot himself. He dug through the soil, found the key quickly, and turned toward the door.

“I’ll take care of the trash,” he said, struggling to unlock the door while you lingered behind him, taking deep breaths and letting your eyes wander. It didn’t help. You just wanted to peel off the hospital clothes clinging to your skin and step into a shower to wash away the ache.

When JJ finally got the door open, your eyes darted skyward. The air was cool in a way you loved, and the crispness of the morning felt oddly soothing.

The sound of the door closing snapped your focus back to JJ. He was looking at you too. You opened your mouth to ask why he’d shut the door when you remembered what the inside must look like. There was probably blood on the floor. Maybe he was grossed out—

“Oh…” Your eyes widened as you reached for the key in his hand, but he moved it behind his back. “I—I forgot all about that. Look, let me—let me just… I’ll take care of it.”

You watched his face shift into something complicated as he blocked your attempt. “You sit,” he said quietly, his hands guiding you gently but firmly toward the steps. You blinked at him, confused.

You really didn’t understand.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to clean up blood,” he muttered. When the meaning behind his words clicked, you tried to get up quickly but winced as a sharp pain cut through your abdomen. You slumped back down, clutching the nearest surface. You hadn’t even realized it was JJ’s arm.

“Easy,” he said, crouching instantly to check on you. “Are you okay? I can take you right back to the hospital if—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, shaking your head even as the pain subsided. You exhaled deeply and leaned back. “I just forgot what the place looked like inside. If you help me up, I’ll go in and—”

JJ’s gaze stopped you mid-sentence. It was the kind of look that made you question whether he thought you were serious. His hands stayed firm on your arms, scanning your face for any sign you weren’t okay so he could haul you right back to the ER.

“Stop,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. It froze you in place. “Do you really think I’d let you clean that up? Not a chance.”

Your eyes flicked from the closed door back to him. You hadn’t realized his thumb was tracing a soothing pattern on your arm. “But when you closed the door, I thought—”

“I didn’t want you to see it again, that’s all.” His voice softened. “Just that.”

It wasn’t something you were used to—this kind of kindness, this tolerance. As the silence stretched between you, you looked away, unsure of how to respond. His thumb kept moving in steady circles against your skin.

“Here’s the deal,” he said, his grip on your arm briefly tightening to get your attention. JJ took a deep breath and glanced at the key in his hand. “You tell me where the cleaning supplies are. I’ll go in, clean it all up, and you sit here until I’m done. Got it?”

Gentle parenting. Again.

Your head nodded on its own, and JJ’s face lit up with a small smile. His dimples caught your eye before his touch slipped away and he stood.

“Under the kitchen sink,” you murmured. JJ nodded as if committing your words to memory before heading to the door. “Be right back,” he said, disappearing inside and leaving the door ajar.

The feeling that bubbled up in you was impossible to describe. Strange. Having someone step in to help, to take charge of something for you—it was unfamiliar. JJ, of all people.

Sure, you were friends, but this? This was something else. You didn’t know how to feel or what to say, only that it left you warm despite the chill outside.

You’d expected to clean up the mess yourself, even for a moment. You weren’t lying; the thought made your stomach turn. Cleaning someone else’s blood? That wasn’t your thing.

But your stomach hadn’t turned when it came to JJ. When he’d been lying in your guest bathroom, covered in blood, you hadn’t flinched. Bandaging his wounds, cleaning him up so he wouldn’t get an infection—it hadn’t fazed you.

You found yourself wondering what he thought about you. You were just a kook girl—Rafe’s ex, rich, golf clubs, parties. You weren’t anything special. The most notable thing about you right now was being pregnant.

It was weird that JJ would even want to be friends with you, that this was what had brought you together. Would he treat you the same if you weren’t pregnant? Would he still be so kind, so compassionate?

And what about you?

Would you have been this open to befriending a troubled guy if your circumstances were reversed?

The thought didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t fair to boil it down to pity or your pregnancy. Your friendship felt real. JJ wasn’t risking his neck for some random pregnant girl—he was doing it for a friend.

JJ would do anything for his friends. That’s just who he was.

And you were his friend. At least, that’s how you saw him. But what about him? Did he see you the same way, or had you misread everything?

“Nice place you’ve got here.” His voice startled you. You jumped and turned to see him standing close, smiling faintly. “All done. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

JJ held out his hand to help you up, and you wondered how long he’d been there. You didn’t hesitate to take his hand, and he quickly offered the other to steady you. “Slowly,” he said, helping you to your feet with careful precision. He didn’t let go, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort.

“You good?” he asked, his tone uncertain. His hands stayed firm, waiting for confirmation. His eyes were searching yours.

You nodded. “I’m good,” you murmured.

JJ’s face broke into a proud smile. “I left the place spotless. You could eat off the floor,” he said, chuckling as he released one hand to rest the other gently on your back. He guided you through the open door, and you couldn’t help but notice how clean the floor really was. Not a single stain remained.

You let him lead you inside, wanting to thank him but unable to find the words.

“Hungry?” you asked, desperate for a distraction. His eyes met yours, his brows lifting in surprise before he shrugged.

“Not really. Are you?”

You shook your head, but deep down, all you wanted was to find a way to repay him.

JJ stepped back a bit and quickly shut the door. You watched him as he scanned the room. His eyes didn’t linger on you for long; instead, they wandered around your living room. “Nice place.”

You nodded in agreement. You liked your home. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for you. “I like it too.”

When JJ placed his hand on your back, you walked together. You needed a shower, but the dull ache in your stomach made you feel uneasy. “I’m going to shower.”

When you said it, looking at him, JJ quickly nodded. He stayed by your side as you made your way to the stairs, helping you up to the second floor. But a sharp pain in your stomach made you stop dead in your tracks. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. Everything still felt terrifying.

JJ’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He stepped in front of you, holding your hand, leaning down to catch your gaze as if to check if something was wrong. “Shit…”

As JJ stared at you with wide, worried eyes, you squeezed his hand. It felt like a heavy period cramp, but after what had happened, you couldn’t treat it as just normal. “Shit. What do I do? Do you need me to do something—?” You shook your head. You opened your mouth to tell him you’d be fine, but JJ kept rambling. “Do you want to sit? Let’s sit. Or I can bring you water—damn it. Just tell me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“JJ, baby is okay, calm down.” When you looked up and spoke, you met JJ’s worried gaze. He’d stopped talking, but you could still see the panic in his eyes.

You steadied yourself, gripping his hand for extra support, and took a deep breath. “I’m more worried about whether you’re okay.” JJ placed his hand on your back again, opening the bathroom door with the other hand, while his brow furrowed. The silence in the house as he moved around felt eerie to you. “I’ll wait by the door until you’re done, okay? Just call out if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”

He looked at you as if seeking confirmation. “Okay.”

Your response seemed to satisfy him. He quickly stepped back, holding the door. “I’m right here. Just say my name.” Then, he closed the door.

You weren’t sure how to feel. Honestly, you didn’t want to feel anything. This shower wasn’t about comfort; it was about necessity. It was a mission to wash away the filth you felt clinging to you.

So the shower was quick.

You cleaned yourself up and stepped out, wrapping yourself in a robe. Before leaving the bathroom, you caught your reflection in the mirror one last time. Your face was almost ghostly pale.

When you opened the door to leave, you found JJ sitting on the floor across from the bathroom, leaning against the wall. He was nearly dozing off, but the sound of the door opening made his eyes snap wide open. He rubbed his face quickly and pushed himself up with the wall for support. “You okay?” he asked the moment he got to his feet. He was standing right in front of you.

You nodded. “I’m going to set up the guest room for you.” You didn’t want him sleeping on the floor or wherever he might end up. You both needed rest. He’d stayed awake the entire evening. You’d tried to sleep but hadn’t really managed to. Rest was overdue for both of you.

As you crossed your arms over your chest and took a step toward the guest room, JJ’s hand on your arm stopped you. “I’m fine. I don’t need to sleep.”

Liar. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to sleep too.” JJ shook his head as if he didn’t hear a word you said.

“Doesn’t matter. You might need me. What if I don’t wake up? What if I don’t hear you—” JJ ran his hands through his hair, glancing around, visibly anxious.

“I’m going to sleep too. If I need anything, I promise I’ll call for you. Please.” Your words, especially the plea, seemed to break through to him. He dropped his gaze to the floor, weighing your words.

“Fine,” he mumbled, his tone almost defeated. Then, he looked up at you. “But only after I know you’re asleep.”

You had no idea where this sudden surge of protectiveness had come from, but—it wasn’t unwelcome. Damn.

You were surprised he gave in so quickly. You thought he’d argue longer. Nodding, you agreed. “I’ll show you your room.”

He followed you to the guest room silently. Afterward, you didn’t exchange many words. You went to your own room and shut the door.

The doctor had mentioned there might be some light spotting for a few more days. It was unnerving, but they assured you it was normal. Just small amounts, they’d said, but if it got heavy, you’d need to go to the hospital. That would be a warning sign.

You slipped off your robe and put on fresh undergarments. The mirror in front of you offered a full view of your stomach. Your hand drifted over the slight swell, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Knowing they were still there was everything.

And the small bump—it looked so perfect. You loved it. Pregnancy suited you in a way you hadn’t expected. You felt—beautiful. Just...different, but in the best way.

Was this a pregnancy kink?

No. Definitely not. But seeing yourself like this made you feel strong. Attractive.

You pulled your gaze from the mirror and grabbed a T-shirt and sweatpants from your closet. After getting dressed, you stepped out of your room, wanting to check on JJ. “JJ?” you called out. His door was open.

“What happened? Shit—” A loud noise came from his room, and your brows furrowed. JJ rushed out of the doorway, looking frantic. “What’s wrong? God, did something happen?”

On any other day, you might’ve laughed at this, but now didn’t seem like the time. To calm him down, you placed a hand on his chest. “JJ, relax. I’m fine, okay? I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

JJ closed his eyes for a moment, realizing nothing was wrong. He let out a deep breath, shoulders sagging slightly.

With a grin, you teased, “Could you maybe dial down the panic a bit?”

JJ ruffled his hair. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, shaking his head. “You scared me,” he said finally, his voice serious enough to wipe the smile off your face.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could hear the heaviness in his breathing. “God—you really scared me. I just—I don’t know. The thought of something happening and not being there...” His hands moved nervously, and he didn’t blink.

“Getting a call like that, in the middle of the night, from a friend—do you know how terrifying that is? Don’t expect me to be calm, not right now. Do you know what went through my head in those two hours it took to get to you?” His voice wasn’t angry, just filled with a kind of helplessness. You stayed quiet, letting him get it all out.

“Not being able to reach you during those minutes... God—when you told me you were alone here, my only thought should be to get to you. If I had been here sooner, maybe... maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” He shut his eyes tightly. You shook your head and grabbed his arms to stop him.

“This was my choice,” you said, watching the sorrow in JJ’s face like a weight pressing on your chest. “Moving here, deciding to be on my own—that was my choice.”

“As your friend, I shouldn’t have let you be alone. Especially now, when you’re so vulnerable. I should’ve checked on you—” JJ seemed bent on blaming himself. Despite knowing it was your decision, he couldn’t shake the thought that he should’ve been there for you.

As your friend.

You hadn’t expected it to feel this heavy. This feeling, of having a real friend—it was weighty in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not painful, just...profound, because it was the first time you’d truly had it.

Having someone who genuinely cared—it was overwhelming.

“JJ, I chose this. None of this is your fault.”

“I should’ve been there.”

For a moment, you thought you saw JJ’s eyes glisten, but he quickly turned his head away. Even if he had been there, there was nothing he could’ve done, and he didn’t seem to understand that. You hadn’t fallen, you hadn’t hurt yourself. There was nothing to save you from.

JJ ran a hand through his hair, as he always did. “Oh God...” Then, you felt his hand settle on your back, pulling you into a tight embrace. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him.

When one of JJ’s hands moved into your damp hair, you closed your eyes tightly. For a while, neither of you said a word. You just stayed there, holding on.

“You didn’t dry your hair again, did you?” His words came in one breath, followed by a small smile tugging at his lips. You pulled back slightly to look at him. JJ’s hand slid away from your hair, but the one on your back stayed firm. Your arms had loosened just a bit, yet the two of you remained close enough to touch.

“Old habits.” You noticed his lips curling up too, though his eyes were a little red.

“That’s a habit we’ll have to break. I’m drying your hair—no way am I letting you get sick.”

You stepped back, nodding at him. When he gestured toward the bathroom with his head, you laughed and walked ahead, leaving him to follow. He really was going to dry your hair, huh?

What a gentleman.

You were too shy to offer, too worried you’d say something dumb and ruin the moment. But the way he acted—so considerate—made you feel seen.

Maybe you shouldn’t let him. It felt like crossing a line. Then again, he’d called you his friend. Confirmed that you were his friend.

“Would you stay with me for a few days?” The words tumbled out before you could overthink them. If you hesitated even a second longer, you would’ve said nothing at all. You’d only mull it over and eventually bury it in fear.

JJ glanced at you while plugging in the hairdryer. “I’m not leaving you. Honestly, even if you hadn’t asked, I was already planning to stay.” His dimples appeared with his grin.

Your lips mirrored his, stretching into a big smile. JJ turned on the dryer and began working on your hair.

"Is this my shirt?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you quickly turned your gaze toward JJ. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding up a shirt—the one he had given you at the beach. That day you both fell asleep on the boat.

"I figured you’d have tossed it by now," he said, spinning the shirt lazily in his hand, a grin tugging at his lips. Even from a distance, you could see his dimples.

"That’s mine now."

JJ’s eyes snapped to yours, his eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. He gestured at the shirt dramatically. "This? This has always been mine. And it will stay mine."

Without a second thought, you placed the fruit bowl from your lap onto the couch and stood up. As you walked toward him, you couldn’t miss the playful smirk on his face.

"Not anymore," you replied, yanking the shirt from his hands. After all, it was given to you, and you had no intention of giving it back. Besides, it was soft, and you liked it. That was that. Turning on your heel, you headed back to the couch, ready to resume eating your strawberries.

"Possessive, huh? Hot."

You paused mid-sit, narrowing your eyes at him, his mischievous smile still plastered across his face. "You’re disgusting."

You settled into the couch, the sound of JJ’s laughter echoing as you tucked the shirt behind you, out of his reach. The fruit bowl returned to your lap, and you focused on the reality show playing on TV.

A moment later, you heard JJ’s footsteps. He vaulted over the back of the couch and sprawled lazily a short distance away from you. Half-reclining, he tilted his head to look at you, propping it up with his hand. "You mad at me?"

You shrugged as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. "What would I even be mad about? Don’t flatter yourself."

Apparently emboldened by your response, JJ reached for the fruit bowl in your lap. Without missing a beat, you swatted his hand away.

"Because you’re not worth it," you added with a smirk, knowing it would sting.

JJ’s jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, his hand clutching his chest dramatically as he gasped, loud and theatrical. What a drama queen.

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but it was hard—especially with him acting like this.

JJ had been staying with you for a few days now—nearly a week. He’d told his friends he had "stuff to do," but really, his only task had been keeping you company. Not that he admitted it outright.

The first few days had been awkward for both of you. You were tense, and he was, well, JJ. But by the third day, you’d fallen into a rhythm.

Turns out your family hadn’t been ignoring your calls—they were simply on a flight. That made sense, so you didn’t hold it against them. You didn’t even tell them about the scare. You just mentioned a bad dream, said you’d worried about them. It wasn’t exactly true, but there was no point in alarming them over something that had already passed.

So, you acted like nothing had happened.

Talking to Rafe, though? That had been strange. Hearing his voice after so many months had stirred something in you—a wound you’d thought had healed.

At first, you hadn’t planned on answering his call. You wanted to ignore it, let it ring out. But when he called a second time, you couldn’t stop yourself from picking up, even though part of you wanted to tell him to leave you alone.

You didn’t regret it. Even now, if you were in the same situation, you’d do it again. It wasn’t stupidity—it was necessity. Back then, you’d needed all the help you could get.

You’d lied to him, claiming you were drunk. It wasn’t the most believable excuse, given your condition, but it had slipped out before you could think. After that, you ended the call and prayed he wouldn’t bother you again.

He didn’t.

Rafe didn’t call or text again—not that he ever really had before.

So, you pushed him from your mind, or at least tried to. You focused on JJ instead, and it helped.

With him, you laughed, watched movies, and, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel so alone.

The sound of someone else’s voice in your house, the way he teased you, the comfort of knowing someone cared—it made you feel lighter. Happier.

You even found yourself enjoying little things: the morning sounds of the TV downstairs, the smell of something burning as JJ attempted breakfast, the way his footsteps echoed through the halls. It felt… normal. Like how things were supposed to be.

Could you manage on your own? Sure. But having someone there? That felt better.

And the house was big—plenty of room for two. Maybe even three.

In just a week, you’d laughed more than you had in all the time you’d lived there. Maybe it was JJ’s personality, or maybe it was simply having someone around. Either way, you weren’t complaining.

You especially appreciated his presence during the harder moments. Like when nausea hit, or when you needed something and he showed up with hot chocolate instead of tea, filling the house with its sweet smell.

It was a rhythm you hadn’t known you’d needed. Even mundane things, like ordering takeout because neither of you felt like cooking, or going on morning walks together, had a way of making everything seem a little brighter.

You’d never spent this much time with him before. And yet here he was, nearly a week in, and it felt… easy.

But there were moments, fleeting as they were, when you couldn’t help but wonder how he treated his other friends—John B, Kiara, Pope, and Sarah. You didn’t like the feeling it gave you. You weren’t usually the jealous type, but it burned in the back of your mind.

Did he treat them like this? Were they as close as you two had been these past days? You hated the thought, not because it was JJ, but because you’d never had that kind of friendship before.

That kind of closeness, the ease of it—it was foreign to you. And you wanted it, even if you hated admitting it.

JJ poked your exposed stomach, snapping you out of your thoughts. His finger traced lazy circles on your skin as his eyes met yours. "Did I interrupt something?"

You shook your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not at all."

When you smiled at him, he grinned back without hesitation. JJ’s smiles were contagious, impossible to resist.

"You were zoning out," he said. "I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t answer."

"I didn’t even notice." You straightened your posture slightly, meeting his curious gaze.

JJ’s eyes dropped back to your stomach, and he smirked as he poked it again. "Your mom says I can’t eat the fruit. Hey, you hear me in there?"

He was speaking to your bump now, as though he expected a response. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

"When will she start kicking?" he asked, glancing up at you.

You pulled the hem of your shirt higher, resting your hand on your belly. "The books say around five months, so… anytime now, I guess."

JJ nodded, his hand resting next to yours, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

“Are you going to share your fruit with me now?” JJ smirked as he asked, and when you started laughing at his words, he straightened up, sitting upright on the couch. You adjusted your shirt slightly, and you could feel his eyes lingering.

You turned your head toward him. “Are you going to tattle on me to my daughter again?” You asked him seriously, raising an eyebrow. JJ shook his head dramatically.

“Not if you hand over a few strawberries.” With a sigh, you gave in, holding out the bowl in your lap. He snatched a strawberry quickly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

“You can be so stubborn sometimes.” You grabbed a strawberry yourself, mirroring him. JJ leaned over to grab the remote from the table, letting out a small chuckle.

“Me? Stubborn? Please. Not when you’re around—impossible.” He leaned back into the couch, flipping through channels like he wasn’t just going to end up opening YouTube anyway.

The past few days, all he’d done was either watch movies or binge random YouTube videos. It was official—he was an iPad kid.

“Me? What stubbornness are you even talking about?” He finally turned his gaze away from the TV, arching an eyebrow at you. His expression practically screamed, ‘Seriously?’.

“From the moment we met, all you’ve done is argue about everything. Don’t even try to deny it; I know you too well for that.” His tone was calm, but there was a teasing edge to it, one he clearly added on purpose just to get under your skin. And it was working. You were sure of it.

“And all you ever do is... complain,” you shot back, saying the first thing that came to mind. JJ laughed dryly, his attention drifting back to the TV.

Of course, it wasn’t entirely true. Sure, he was as stubborn as you, but still.

“This debate is officially over. You’ve lost. Completely.” You couldn’t help but laugh again before lunging forward, trying to snatch the remote from his hand. “Hand it over.”

JJ, startled by your sudden move, tried to pull away quickly, but he was already at the edge of the couch with nowhere to go. It didn’t take much effort to grab the remote from him.

He could’ve made it harder for you. He could’ve easily hidden the remote or kept it away. But you knew JJ well enough to know he’d never risk accidentally hurting you, not even slightly. Instead, as you leaned over him, he instinctively steadied you with one hand to make sure you didn’t fall.

“Whoa, claws in, tiger!”

With the remote firmly in your grasp, you plopped back onto your spot on the couch. You grabbed the bowl of strawberries sitting between you two and moved it to your other side for good measure before immediately exiting YouTube. “We’re watching what I want. You— you—”

“What about me?” JJ’s tone was playful, his eyes fixed on you with an amused look. He was clearly enjoying this—watching you get all flustered. You wanted to smack that grin right off his face. Preferably with the remote.

“You don’t deserve it.” JJ’s laughter echoed so loud you felt like it could’ve been heard across the whole street. It sounded... annoyingly fun. But you didn’t look back at him. You flipped through channels until you landed on some trashy reality show. That’s what you’d watch, whether he liked it or not.

“A dumb reality show deserves your attention, but I don’t? Really, princess?” You nodded furiously, biting into another strawberry for emphasis.

Damn hormones. They were driving you crazy.

“Alright, white flag. Let’s call a truce. Deal?” He extended his hand toward you, his grin still smug. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying messing with you.

For a brief second, you considered ignoring him. Leaving his hand hanging and pretending you didn’t notice. Just keeping your focus on the TV.

But it was only a fleeting thought. Before you knew it, you were shaking his hand. “For now,” you said, your tone warning. JJ just nodded, satisfied.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, your phone buzzed on the table, grabbing both your attention. John B’s name and picture lit up the screen. You pulled your hand back from JJ’s as he adjusted his posture, glancing at the phone for a moment before picking it up, slow and deliberate. Holding it in one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other.

“I’ll take this outside,” he said, standing up and waiting a beat, as if for your approval. When you nodded, he gave a short nod back and headed for the porch.

You watched through the glass door as JJ paced back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. It was strange, watching him like this—like you were peeking into a part of his world you didn’t belong to. There was a tension in his posture, something that contrasted sharply with his usual carefree energy.

As he talked, you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up just to give your hands something to do. But your mind kept drifting back to him. Watching him through the door felt like glimpsing a piece of his life he hadn’t shared with you.

When you finished, JJ came back inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes immediately found yours, and he hesitated for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how to tell you something. Hands shoved in his pockets, he took a few steps closer.

“What is it?” You dropped the cloth you were holding, giving him your full attention. JJ shrugged, his expression suddenly unreadable, but it gave you the sinking feeling something was off.

“John B and Sarah are getting married in two days,” he said finally, his voice low but clear.

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. “Seriously? I mean, I figured this day would come, but—cute.”

JJ nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But there was something behind it, something you couldn’t quite place, like a shadow lingering just out of sight. “Yeah, John B proposed a while back. They had to delay it because of... stuff, but I guess it’s happening now.”

When JJ scratched the back of his neck, you could feel his unease, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. The news brought a strange ache to your chest—a reminder that you weren’t really a part of his world, his friends. You didn’t even know them. And the thought of JJ not being here... it crept in before you could stop it.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” The words slipped out before you could catch them, sounding more like an admission than a question, like you were bracing yourself for the inevitable.

You’d known this day would come. But still—whatever.

JJ looked at you, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he said slowly, his tone hinting at reluctance. “But... what about you? Have you reached out to your mom? Can she come here?”

You shook your head, your hands gripping the marble counter instinctively. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell them about the hospital thing, so… they might find it weird.”

JJ nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he nudged at the floor with his foot like he was playing with something invisible. He looked uncomfortable.

“John B still doesn’t know you’re not living with your dad?” The question slipped out before you could stop it. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but if he was planning to go back to the island, you had to know. You didn’t want him living on the streets—or worse, finding him bloodied and bruised again. Especially now that you weren’t there on the island, the thought of him sleeping out in the open sent a pang through your chest.

The silence between you was brief, but it hung heavy. JJ’s furrowed brow made it clear that he was just as unsettled as you were. He took a long breath, his head tilting slightly downward. “John B doesn’t know I don’t talk to my dad,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute.

His words tightened something deep inside you. When you looked at him, you could see the tension etched on his face. “Only Pope knows,” he added, his shoulders tensing slightly as if bracing for a reaction.

That revelation only deepened the stillness between you. Seeing the cracks in JJ’s life hurt you and confused you at the same time. But you didn’t want to make it worse by pointing it out. You held back, careful not to say anything that might hurt him further.

You hated the silence that lingered between you two. It wasn’t like either of you to leave things hanging like this during tense moments. It felt... wrong.

“I could leave tonight if you want,” JJ said after a while, his tone still calm but firm. “Or… tomorrow. Whatever works for you.”

His words stung, fanning the ache that was already growing inside you. You knew he needed to leave, but you still wanted him to stay. You’d grown so used to having him around—spending time with him had been comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. The idea of him leaving now made something in you twist uncomfortably.

You closed your eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. When you opened them and looked at him, you hesitated, weighing the words you wanted to say. Was it selfish? Too much to ask? What if he said no? You knew he had to go, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him to stay.

Taking a deep breath, you turned your gaze to him. “Maybe…” you started, your voice dropping to a near whisper, “maybe you could think about staying here after— wedding?”

JJ’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to figure out what you really meant. The room was so quiet, you could hear the sound of both your breaths.

He said your name softly, like he was testing the weight of it. Then he paused, his lips parting as if to speak before closing them again without saying anything.

His surprise was written all over him. His lips slightly parted, his gaze locked onto yours, JJ looked completely unsure of what to do. Slowly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

“I know…” you said, dropping your gaze to the floor. Your voice was shaky and gentle, laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to showing. It felt ridiculous to even have this conversation. You hadn’t realized you could be this bold. “I know you have to go. Your friends are waiting for you. But… if you wanted to, I mean—” You hesitated, your words barely audible now. “I’d be happy to have you stay here.”

JJ stayed quiet for another beat, his expression distant but conflicted. Whatever you’d said had clearly struck a chord with him. The idea seemed to catch him off guard but also made him think.

He said your name again, softer this time. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he hesitated for a long moment. “It’s… not that simple. I mean…” His hand went up to his hair, fingers pushing through it as he rubbed the back of his neck. “My friends are there. My life’s… there. You know?” He exhaled deeply, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Seeing the indecision in his eyes made your chest tighten. Am I asking too much? Am I a burden? The thought of him choosing you over everything else felt naïve. Not that it was about choosing you exactly, but still… expecting him to stay felt foolish.

His friends had been his whole world for years. Would he really leave them behind just because you asked? Would he abandon everything like you had, even for a little while?

For JJ, staying meant leaving his friends behind. Watching everyone’s lives from a distance instead of being part of the chaos. And coming back afterward? It might make things even messier.

But then again… he knew things weren’t the same anymore. They weren’t high school kids chasing trouble anymore. They’d grown up, and with that came responsibilities. Responsibilities that seemed to pull them all in different directions, slowly but surely.

Pope and Cleo were working for Pope’s dad, figuring out their own lives while enjoying being together. Kiara was helping her parents with the family business. John B and Sarah were preparing to start a family. And JJ… JJ felt like he was drifting. Like the ties that once bound them together were fraying.

“They all seem to have something,” JJ said suddenly, his voice distant. He wasn’t even looking at you now, his thoughts clearly spiraling. He didn’t know what answer to give you. Honestly, he didn’t even know what he wanted for himself. He just… didn’t want to keep drifting.

“You have something too,” you said firmly, your tone gentle but sure. “You’ve been here for me. You helped me when I was alone. When I was scared… you were here.” When you finished, you looked at him, watching closely for his reaction.

JJ shifted uncomfortably at your words. His eyes seemed to weigh them carefully. There was still hesitation in his expression, but something else was there too. Maybe guilt. Maybe understanding.

He didn’t really have anywhere to go. His relationship with his dad was a disaster, and he had no intention of fixing it. He couldn’t crash at John B’s place forever—gosh, the guy was getting married. Sarah would probably put a lock on their door. He couldn’t just hang around like their adopted kid.

Pope’s house? Already too crowded, with Cleo practically living there at this point. And Kiara’s parents? Yeah, they absolutely hated him. Living on the streets forever wasn’t an option either...

The silence stretched on. Time seemed to slow, pressing down on the two of you like an invisible weight. The only sound was the faint rustling of the trees outside in the wind. JJ looked at you, and when his eyes met yours, something inside you cracked. Asking him to stay felt like you were adding to the burdens he already carried. But it wasn’t selfish—you weren’t demanding or desperate. There was a fragility in the way you asked, a quiet understanding between the two of you. In that moment, JJ realized you were just as lost as he was.

“I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice quiet and hesitant. “But—” He paused, his gaze locking onto yours again. “It’s not forever. Just… for a while. We’ll figure out what comes next together.”

The wave of relief that washed over you was overwhelming. A grin spread across your face, and you shifted in place, resisting the urge to throw your arms around him.

JJ deciding to stay wasn’t just about his circumstances—it was about trust, about the connection you shared. But you could also see that it wasn’t an easy decision for him. He felt alone, in a way that mirrored your own loneliness.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, staring into the distance for a moment. “Sometimes,” he started softly, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. So… maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.”

You smiled at him, your lips trembling slightly at the edges. “JJ,” you said gently, your voice steady but warm, “We’ll be okay.”

JJ didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He shook his head lightly and said, “Yeah. We will.” There was something different in his eyes this time—something warmer, more at peace.

You couldn’t put into words the happiness you felt in that moment. This was what communication was about. If you hadn’t asked, you would’ve been left feeling miserable, JJ would’ve walked away, and you’d have been alone. But now…

He was staying. With you.

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