#Except the Mr Garcia moves on from her

[buster-loves-pr]

I think someone should get Javi another fish

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

Ghostwriter CH 7

Unbetad Unedited Unhinged || AO3

Character(s): Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Lucy Stone, Logan Mitchell, Carlos Garcia, Mrs. Knight, Bitters, Veronica Clark oc, James Clark oc, Guitar Dude (i call him Kevin)

Pairing(s): Kendall Knight/Veronica Clark, James Diamond & Veronica Clark, Kendall Knight & James Diamond, James Diamond & Kendall Knight & Logan Mitchell & Carlos Garcia

t/w: underage recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage smoking

It was hypocritical for her to be there when she didn’t want to be. Whenever she read books that started at parties, she would roll her eyes and scoff whenever the main character described it as if they were there against their will. Ronnie even waited until after the party started, but then texts from Lucy and Camille made her phone ring wildly every five to ten seconds. It would have been wise to tell them that she didn’t want to go to the party, but then they would ask why, and she had no idea how to explain that. 

Lucy’s apartment was on the fifth floor. Ronnie wrote the apartment number on her arm in pen, just in case she wrote it down on paper and forgot it. She wore a yellow hoodie and ripped jeans. Her maroon converse were beaten to hell and back, but they hadn’t fallen apart yet. For a Sunday night in Los Angeles, it was surprisingly cold. Or Bitter’s turned up the air conditioning. Ronnie was in the gray limbo of anticipation for the past two days. All she wanted was to get this over with. But she willingly came to the party so she shouldn’t complain. When she arrived, there were already so many people. The music was loud, and the apartment was dim. LED lights lined the ceiling.

Girls wore short skirts and skin-tight clothing, moving their hips so rhythmically. If Ronnie stared any longer, she would be in a trance. The midriffs and short clothes didn’t make her insecure. She wasn’t wearing baggy clothes to hide herself. She preferred baggy clothes and a boxy shape. The smell of alcohol hit her nose like a tidal wave, and she scrunched her face up. There were red solo cups all around. People were holding them. They were knocked over and left unattended on counters. Ronnie couldn’t help but feel bad for Lucy, who would be left to clean this up when the party ended. 

The songwriter scanned for exits like she was looking to run from a fire. She saw the balcony across the room and made her way over. Salvation was barely out of reach; she had to navigate across the mass of teens on the dancefloor, hoping no one would ask her to dance. Anyone else in her situation would try to find them amidst the crowd, but Ronnie didn’t want to get swept up in the sea of wriggling bodies. She muttered apologies as she squeezed past, cutting between dancing couples and accidentally bumping into people with red solo cups. The alcohol sloshed on the ground regardless of whether she bumped into them or not. It would be one hell of a mess to clean up later. Maybe she could convince Lucy to let her help clean up. It’s the least she can do for her new friend. 

Out on the balcony, she leaned over the railing. The smell of alcohol already clung to her like dust bunnies. Her lungs greedily welcomed the fresh air. The room inside had already gotten stuffy, even with the fan on. The pungent smell of weed surrounded her like iron chains. It was earthy and rich. The warm smell wrapped around her and clung to her hoodie. Smoke billowed in the night air. Ronnie read Bitters’ rules, and this party broke three of them. She would never snitch, especially not when she needed Lucy to think positively of her. Her social life had already been bombed in Vermont, and living in Los Angeles was like a fresh start. No one knew her, and as scary as it may be, it was like a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. She wasn’t weird, she wasn’t the loner. She was just Ronnie. Nothing else was tied to her name except being the new songwriter for Big Time Rush, but that wouldn’t drag her down in infamy, would it? 

“What’s up? I can feel the tension from over here.” 

Ronnie whirled around. A joint was held between his slender fingers, and his straight, dark hair fell over his shoulders. He wore sunglasses, although it was impractical. Beside him, leaning against the wall, was an acoustic guitar. She couldn’t tell what he was looking at as he blew wisps of smoke into the air. 

“Try it, this is some good shit.” He held the joint out to her, and she stared at it. The last time she smoked, she froze her ass off on a mountain on Halloween. But she wasn’t on a hill, and it wasn’t anywhere near Halloween. She should be fine. 

Ronnie promised herself she wasn’t going to drink, not that she wouldn’t smoke. 

The joint in her hands was small and warm. She must have looked like she didn’t know what she was doing, but she inhaled before the mysterious stranger could say anything. The smoke filled her lungs, and she pulled the joint away. It was like it coated the back of her tongue and spread through her body like wildfire. Ronnie coughed into her elbow and handed the joint back to him. 

“Damn, guess the newbies are a pro.” He chuckled and took a hit. 

“Not a newbie,” Ronnie took deep breaths to steady how her lungs spasmed. She had to be careful not to cough so much that she accidentally triggered her gag reflex. 

“Ah, so you’ve smoked before. Cool,” he nodded softly and handed the joint back to her. The two were in a rhythm of rotation now. It was pretty easy to be sucked into a joint rotation with someone who seemed as though he let shit roll off his back like water under a bridge. 

“Does the strange guitar player have a name?” Ronnie quirked a brow. Her inhibitions were slowly starting to fade. She leaned back against the iron railing. 

“Kevin, but everyone knows me as Guitar Dude.” He snickered and nodded to the instrument next to him. “You?” 

“Ronnie, I just moved in a couple of days ago.” 

“Oh, you’re Ronnie.” He leaned back in the chair. “I heard about you from Lucy and Camille, damn. You are not what I expected.” 

“What did you expect?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged and scratched his head. “Maybe some sort of girl-next-door look? I just wasn’t expecting some girl that knows how to kick back and party,” 

“It’s this or break my promise and drink.” 

“Tight, I’m not a big alcohol fan myself.” Kevin blew smoke into the air. 

Ronnie stretched her neck from side to side. She didn’t know what to expect from up-and-coming entertainers in the Hollywood industry. The last thing she expected was for them to be relatively friendly. It was a pleasant surprise. Maybe Hollywood was the fresh start she needed to see things better than they seemed. Or perhaps she was just too in her head about everything in Vermont because she was so worried about everything. Maybe her life had spiraled out of control for a little bit, and finally decided to settle down. She took another hit of the joint and stretched. One thing she knew for sure was that it wasn’t cold anymore. 

“Yo, dude, have you seen– Ronnie?” Kendall was perplexed. He didn’t care that Guitar Dude was smoking, but the last thing he expected to see was Ronnie smoking. 

She blinked slowly at Kendall. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him, but it was confusing that he was looking for her. She would have thought he wanted to stay far away from her during the party. She was mad at him. Why was he so confusing? One moment, he’s like a hot iron, and the next moment, he’s like ice being placed on a burn. It hurt that he didn’t want her around. 

“Let’s go inside,” Kendall’s hand was on the small of her back, guiding her back into the party. She squirmed in protest. 

“I know how to walk, you shithead.” Her demeanor was different, and it shocked him. Of course, the other day, she called him an asshole, but calling him a shithead was something entirely different. The word felt harsher. 

“You need something to eat,” Kendall said in ‘mom mode,’ as his friends call it. 

“Nuh-uh. You need to chill the fuck out.” Ronnie sighed. “God, it’s so warm.” She pulled her sweatshirt over her head and wrapped the arms around her waist. 

Kendall looked away and coughed into his hand. She wore a v-neck under her hoodie. 

“I don’t understand why you have such a stick up your ass, like, for fuck’s sake, man.” Ronnie eyed the punch bowl and reached for a cup. The blonde promptly stopped her. 

“Someone spiked the punch,” 

“Okay? Do you see water around?” She turned her head slightly. “I didn’t think so,” 

The blonde couldn’t be able to stop her, but he had no idea what weed and alcohol did when mixed. All he could hope for was that her father wouldn’t put him six feet under. Ronnie tipped the cup back and glanced at him. 

“It doesn’t look like you’re having much fun,” she raised a brow. 

“Eh, this place doesn’t seem like my kind of fun.” Kendall shrugged. 

Ronnie laughed behind her hand. 

“Hey, hey. That’s my line!” She giggled, her nose scrunched up as she laughed. 

“Yeah, well, I’m borrowing it.” Kendall rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like I patented it. I don’t own words.” 

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t pay you.” 

“Dick,” Ronnie playfully pouted and shoved his shoulder. “Why are you such a dick to me?” 

The bass was buzzing in her bones, or maybe her heart was hammering in her chest. She was most likely screaming at herself from behind the cross-faded haze, but the rational part of her brain was locked away for now. 

“I don’t know you,” Kendall furrowed his brows. 

“So? It’s a pretty piss poor way to get to know me,” 

“Then how should I get to know you?” 

“Be nice,” Ronnie blinked slowly. The cup in her hands was empty, and she reached for the punch again. “You were nice to me when you returned my hoodie.” 

“Okay, yeah, but I felt bad.” 

“I don’t need your pity.” 

“I’m not pitying you,” Kendall sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, no more punch.” He took the cup from her. “I’ll walk you to my apartment and get you water if I have to, but no more alcohol.” 

“You’re no fun,” 

“I’m no fun? That’s tough talk from someone who can’t be sober.” 

“Hey,” Ronnie pouted. “You say that like you know me, and newsflash dickweed, we don’t know each other.” 

“I’m not the one who thinks I’m a dick.” 

“You are a dick.” Ronnie jabbed her finger at his chest. “Since I’ve arrived, you’ve done nothing but glare at me, and I’m starting to think you don’t want me around.” 

“Oh, really? I don’t want you here. Because as far as I know, you don’t even want to be here in L.A. This wasn’t your decision, and you’re saddled with the aftermath.” 

Ronnie scrunched her face up. She wanted to be in Los Angeles. She was living her dream, which was the best thing to happen to her. Who was he to start saying shit as if he knew her on a personal level? He wasn’t talking about her, and this was an excuse to get it out, but she wouldn’t be an emotional punching bag. It wasn’t her fault that he didn’t say anything to anyone about how he felt. 

“Fuck you. I’m not your ex-girlfriend.” Ronnie spat. 

Kendall’s eyes widened. He was caught red-handed. 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. And better yet, you invited me to this fucking party because you wanted to be friends!” She threw her arms up. “But you can’t be friends with me, can you? Whatever is going on with you, figure it out.” 

Her head was reeling. She felt like the room spun in circles, but she pushed past people to get out of Lucy’s apartment. Her blood boiled beneath the surface. No one had a right to talk to her like that. It didn’t matter if she was intoxicated or sober. It was out of line. But maybe she was out of line, too. Perhaps she hadn’t been the kindest to Kendall as she’d hoped. Shaking her head, she sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. Why was it so confusing? Why did it feel so complicated? 

This was supposed to be a party where she could let go and relax, but instead of relaxing, she argued with the one person she didn’t want to argue with. How did the conversation even start? Did Ronnie start the argument, or did Kendall? She leaned against the wall outside the apartment and ran her hands through her hair. Until now, she didn’t notice how cold they were or how warm her head was. She didn’t see how her hands shook like a lone leaf on a barren tree in the winter. Maybe coming to this party wasn’t the best thing. She should have stayed home but couldn’t ghost Lucy or Camille. Ronnie desperately needed friends and was suddenly aware of how far away she was from Addison and Callie. 

She said too much. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. She covered her face with her hands. If Addison were here, the preppy girl would say Ronnie was participating in social suicide. It’s not like Ronnie had much of a social life to ruin. No one knew who she was. Her heart rate picked up, and it hammered in her ears as loudly as the music playing inside the apartment. It didn’t matter if she didn’t have a social life because she just ruined what could be the only chance to cultivate a social life with up-and-coming stars in Hollywood. She wasn’t fit for this. She was fit for the life they lived. 

“Ronnie?” 

The songwriter shuttered a breath and peeked through her fingers. James had a bucket of ice, presumably from one of the ice machines at the end of the hall. Her blood ran cold. She felt as though her skin didn’t fit correctly over her bones. Ronnie bit her tongue before she said anything unnecessary. 

“Ronnie, are you okay?” 

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Go inside.” 

“Nope, come on.” 

James walked away. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure she was following him. Ronnie furrowed her brows and pushed off the wall. Curiously, she followed James. It was suddenly freezing in the hallway, and she shrugged on her sweatshirt, pulling the fabric over her skin and letting the ends of the sleeves hang over her fingers. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, pushing open the door to the stairwell after him. Her voice echoed off the concrete. 

“You’ll see,” was James’ ominous response. 

Her legs wobbled as she climbed the stairs, but luckily, she didn’t trip over her feet. Staring at the ground as she walked, for a moment, she had a feeling the ground beneath her would get up and walk away to mess with her. Ronnie didn’t know how many floors the Palm Woods had. She wasn’t counting. Neither of them were. After climbing the stairs, she stopped when James held the door open. They reached the roof. Curiously, she wandered out and looked up. 

The night sky was a vast, endless expanse of midnight blue dotted with little white specs drowned out by the lamps on the street. But up on the roof, she could see them. She could see them in Vermont much better, but it wasn’t like she paid attention before. 

“I bet you can see them better back home,” James put a brick in front of the door to keep it from closing. “I know I could see them pretty well in Minnesota.” 

“Do you miss Minnesota?” The breeze rustled her hair and tinted her cheeks pink. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the stars she could see, even if they weren’t as bright. 

“Sometimes. I mostly miss my mom,” 

“Oh.” Ronnie looked over her shoulder at him. “I thought Mrs. Knight was your mom.” 

“Well, no… Technically, she is, at least while I’m in L.A., but she is not. My mom is back home managing her skincare line.” James scoffed and dug the toe of his shoe into the ground. “She only visited me once,” 

“Skincare, huh?” Ronnie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sky. It was freeing for something to stretch around the Earth like it did.  “I bet you get the first picks of the product.” She laughed lightly. 

“It’s more like I get the items that didn’t look good.” James shoved his hands in his pockets as he stood next to her. “I mean, they work. I’m one handsome devil.” He laughed. 

“You are,” she said absentmindedly. Her mind was already wandering. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Of course I am.” 

“No, I mean, I saw you in the hall. You looked like you were having a breakdown.” 

“It’s fine.” Ronnie shrugged and waved away his concern. 

“I didn’t think you would show up, so it was a surprise to see you like that. Lucy was excited you would show up. I don’t think I’ve seen her that happy.” James played with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure you’re okay? You smell like weed and alcohol.” 

Ronnie’s smile dropped from her face, and she hunched her shoulder. She played with the drawstrings of her hoodie and inhaled sharply through her nose. 

“It’s nothing,” 

“Nuh-uh. Kendall does this to me all the time. I don’t care if you happen to stub your toe or if you tripped and fell. Let it out,” 

“It’s funny you mention Kendall,” 

James raised a brow. He sensed a love confession or something similar. He kept his excitement contained even though he wanted to jump around and cheer. 

“I know he broke up with Jo and doesn’t owe me anything, but I want him to be nice to me. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder, and I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

James deflated like a balloon, which was not what he had expected. 

“We argued, and it was stupid, but,” Ronnie groaned and started walking around as she ranted. “Ugh! I don’t get why he thinks he can treat me like an outcast and then suddenly pretend we’re fine as if I should repay him for what he did at the pool.” 

James cringed. He wanted to forget what happened. He got secondhand embarrassment. 

“And he doesn’t even know me, which makes this so much worse. It’s like he hates me for no reason.” 

James opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. His knee-jerk reaction was to defend Kendall, but even he could see that Kendall wasn’t acting like himself, and being upset over heartbreak wasn’t an excuse. This wasn’t a situation he was well-versed in; it was nuanced. On the one hand, he felt for Ronnie, but on the other hand, he wished she’d at least show some patience towards Kendall. 

“I wasn’t the one that hurt him, and if what Camille says is true, then he’s only been hurting himself.” Ronnie brushed her hair back as she paced. 

James stood there, his eyes trailing her as she walked back and forth. 

“Am I overreacting? Overthinking?” 

James took a deep breath and sighed heavily. 

“I know this is easier said than done, but I need you to calm down.” 

Maybe she didn’t listen or was too deep in thought to hear him, but she continued ranting and raving. For someone she met a few days ago, Ronnie had a lot to say about Kendall. 

Kendall noticed when James and Ronnie came back to the party. He didn’t know why, but something in his mind itched. James wasn’t the kind to take advantage of anyone under the influence, but he couldn’t help it when that thought nagged at the back of his mind. He could tell the songwriter was frazzled from where he stood, off to the side, slightly shadowed by the lights. He didn’t like the way she swayed unsteadily on her feet. She looked lost amongst the crowd. But as much as he wanted to, he didn’t make a move. Kendall stayed where he was and watched from afar. Ronnie needed time to cool off. 

Lucy wandered about her party, looking for her new friend. The last thing she wanted to think was that Ronnie wouldn’t show without texting her first. She was looking at her phone, waiting for the texting indicator or a message to pop up. The rocker was slightly intoxicated, but only to calm her nerves. Because she wasn’t paying attention, she accidentally bumped into someone and nearly dropped her phone. She had half a mind to yell at whoever it was, but when she noticed Ronnie, the words died in her throat, and a grin stretched across her face. 

“Ronnie!” 

“Lucy!” The songwriter turned around. She was stuck listening to some guy talk about how he was the prettiest actor alive. It was boring. 

“When did you get here? I haven’t seen you all night,” 

“Oh, I don’t– It’s been a while.” Ronnie looked around for the phone she hadn’t brought to the party. She noticed Kendall making his way over and groaned. “Come on, let’s dance.” 

Lucy didn’t have time to react when the girl took her by the hand and pulled her onto the makeshift dancefloor. The floor was semi-sticky, and Lucy looked down at her feet to avoid stepping on anyone’s feet. The songwriter was acting differently, but she didn’t want to think about it right now. She didn’t need to psychoanalyze her friends or fix their problems. Her party, for the most part, went surprisingly well. More people showed up than she thought would, but it was probably due to the free booze. It was crazy that she wasn’t carded and couldn't return it to her apartment. Her parents would kill her if they found out about this, but they weren’t going to visit her. No, they cared more about her older brother in military school. Of course, they don’t know she wants to be a rockstar. If they did, then their involvement would be an entirely different story. Shaking her head, she hadn’t realized that Ronnie let go of her hand. Suddenly, she was alone amidst swaying bodies. The music thumped loudly in her bones. 

She wasn’t offput by being alone, but losing her friend this quickly was alarming. Lucy hadn’t expected all these people to be here. The crowd was pushing and shoving. They all couldn’t fit in her apartment. No, she was starting to understand why Bitters was against parties. She could call it off right now, but getting everyone out of her apartment would take longer. 

“Are you okay?” He had to shout over the music. James had squeezed his way past the dancing crowd. 

“I don’t– It’s too much.” Lucy tried to shout over the loud music. 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun at your party.” James moved closer. He and Lucy were smooshed together. 

“Believe it or not, I’m not having fun. I didn’t expect this many people.” The alcohol was wearing off. She could feel how constricting this party was. When she handed out flyers, she half expected people not to attend because they didn’t know her. It wasn’t like she was popular, but in hindsight, she could have stuck with inviting the people who knew her. 

“You won’t like it, but I have a way to get everyone out of here.” 

Lucy raised a brow. “Lay it on me, pretty boy.” 

James chose to ignore what she called him. “It involves Bitters and shutting down this party. But! He doesn’t have to know you threw the party. We just need people to complain.” 

“How?” 

“By causing some chaos. Let’s find the guys.” 

Logan, Carlos, Kendall, and James knew what to do. The four boys each took a floor and started knocking on doors. Their goal was to get someone to complain about the noise dragging Bitters from his desk in the lobby. Lucy would be hidden in their apartment so that the grumpy building manager wouldn’t find out that she threw the party. Although, it was a wonder he never found out when she was handing out flyers in the lobby. Kendall took the third floor, Carlos took the fourth, James took the fifth, and Logan was tasked with watching Bitters at his desk in the lobby. Carlos knew his spy kit walkie-talkies would come in handy one day. 

Kendall noticed Ronnie on the third floor, presumably on her way back to her apartment. He had no idea how her dad would react to her being intoxicated and acted without thinking. Thankfully, due to his long legs, he caught up with her quickly. 

“Hey, hey. How about we get you some water?” The blonde stopped her, hands planted firmly on her shoulders. 

“No, I want to go home.” Ronnie shrugged his hands off and moved around him. 

“Yeah, but maybe some water and food will help you feel better.”  

“Stop following me,” she started walking faster. Her keys jingled in her pocket. 

The hallway was silent like it always was. They were the only two. The walkie-talkie on his hip buzzed, but it was disregarded. 

“I seriously think we should go get some water. Aren’t you dehydrated?” 

“Kendall,” Ronnie groaned. “I don’t want water. I want you to go away.” 

“Trust me, I can’t let your dad find out about–” 

“Just get the fuck away from me!” 

Kendall’s eyes widened. He was thrown off when she shoved him backward, but he only wobled. She wasn’t strong enough to topple him. Perhaps he should have been listening to who was on the walkie-talkie because Bitters marched right over to the two of them. Not only was his mom going to kill him, but Ronnie’s dad was going to kill him. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Bitters stopped and crossed his arms. “I have gotten several noise complaints from other tenants in this building saying teenagers have been pounding on their doors.” 

Ronnie furrowed her brows. Under the fluorescent light in the hallway, it was apparent she was intoxicated. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were tinged red. 

“I didn’t do shit, you should be talking to him.” She pointed at Kendall, who surprisingly stayed sober during the party. 

“I don’t care whose fault it is, but I will talk to both of your parents.” 

“Great, you can talk to my dad about him being a fucking jackass.” She sneered at Kendall. “I was just on my way home,” 

Kendall swallowed thickly. Oh, he was in for it now. It would be safe to say he would be grounded for a while. For a second, a thought crossed his mind. He was so going to get James back for this. It wasn’t his fault, but it could have been planned better. James never came up with the best plans. It was always Kendall who made the better plans. He followed after Bitters and Ronnie, hands shoved in his pockets. Her father was intimidating, and he didn’t want him yelling at him for getting his daughter intoxicated. 

His heart thrummed in his ears as Ronnie struggled to put the key in the lock, but the door swung open, and all three of them were greeted by a grumpy-looking Mr. Clark. It seemed as if he had just been woken up. Kendall internally cringed. He might have forgotten he was a part of James' plan to knock on all the doors in the hall. 

“You.” Her father’s nostrils flared. “You were supposed to be home thirty minutes ago.” 

“I know I got caught up–” 

“Sir, do you know your daughter is intoxicated?” Bitters cut her off. 

There was silence for a moment. The intimidating man blinked twice and stared at Bitters like an angry brown bear. 

“I wasn’t told there would be alcohol at that party. Find it and shut it down. It’s midnight!” 

“Yes, yes. Right away, sir!” Bitters shook slightly. 

“Bed. Now.” He moved aside to let his daughter in. Ronnie hung her head and shuffled inside. 

“These teens shouldn’t even have access to drugs and alcohol. What kind of business are you running?” Mr. Clark barked in Bitters’ face. “We pay you to ensure this place is safe for our kids!” 

Internally, Kendall was smirking. It was about time the building manager got chewed out for something around here. 

“I–I’ll have much to say to whoever threw this party. I promise you these kids will never get their hands on alcohol and drugs again.” Bitters adjusted his glasses. 

“Good. And you, don’t think I didn’t see you. Go home and go to bed. Your mother is probably worried sick about you.” He looked to Kendall, and then he leaned forward. Bitters had already scampered away like a rat. “And if I find out you gave my little girl alcohol, it’ll be all over for you.” 

Kendall nodded quickly; words died in his throat, and he was shaken. He thought her dad was intimidating when he stood there, but he was wrong. His words were far more terrifying. 

“Have a good night, son,” The way he went from threatening to calm and docile was even worse. The door shut, and Kendall booked it for the elevator. 

Lucy was out of Mrs. Knights's apartment once Bitters cleared her apartment of the partygoers. James walked her back to make sure the shifty building manager wasn’t waiting for the party host to arrive so he could bust them. Thankfully, James' plan worked, or Lucy would have to wait out the party until everyone decided to go home. Although there was a mess, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed. The mess was a problem for her to deal with in the morning. 

Ronnie woke up with a splitting headache, and the light streaming through the window was too much. She covered her face with the blankets and groaned. She reached for her phone on her nightstand and pulled it inside the blankets on her bed. The blue light of her screen was blinding. Notifications lit up her screen, and texts from an unknown number apologized for last night. She sat up in bed and threw the blankets off her when she realized what time it was. 

“Holy shit, I’m late!” 

She scrambled out of bed and threw on whatever she could find on the floor. Her sweatshirt was nowhere in sight. Ronnie grabbed her wallet and her notebook and ran out of her room. Gustavo would chew her up and spit her out for being late. Her father was nowhere to be seen in the apartment, which was strange. She half-expected to see him sitting there with a disappointed look. 

The teen barreled into Rocque Records like a tornado. Her hair was messily pulled back. Her shoes were mismatched. Her shirt was wrinkled and riding up slightly. The guys looked as bad as she felt. James flashed her a sympathetic smile. 

“Oh! Now, everyone has decided to show up!” Gustavo stood up. “I’m sure you can tell me why you all happened to be late!” He was screaming in her face, but she was too frazzled.

“Gustavo,” Kelly had tried to calm him down earlier, but her attempts were useless. 

“Jeez, we went to a party.” Ronnie rubbed her temples. “Can you quit with the screaming already?” 

“A party? A party!” Gustavo spun around to the band. “What kind of party was it? Considering it mattered more than coming to work!” Gustavo barked. “Bad dawgs. Bad dawgs!” He smacked the four of them with a rolled-up newspaper. 

Ronnie sat down on the couch at the back of the room. Her stomach was twisting itself in knots and bubbling dangerously. She held a hand over her mouth. This was the worst feeling by far. 

“When you’re rich and famous, you can party ‘til your heart's content! But you’re not rich and famous!” For extra measure, Gustavo smacked them with a rolled-up newspaper again. 

“Gustavo, they’re just teenagers–” 

“It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to Kelly! You should respect our time as much as we respect yours!” 

“We’re just dumb teenagers,” James grinned. 

“Yeah! It’s your fault if you expected us to be completely responsible!” Carlos chimed in. 

“No, I expect her to be responsible!” Gustavo pointed at Ronnie, who looked like she had one foot in the grave. “I know you four aren’t responsible, but how could you rope your poor, innocent songwriter into your shenanigans!” 

“Innocent?” Kendall scoffed. “You should be grilling her about how much she drank last night. She even smoked marijuana.” 

“Okay, fuck you.” Ronnie stuck up her middle finger. 

“We won’t demonize any of you for that party!” Kelly cut in, elbowing Gustavo. “We just want you to be safe and to remember to get to work on time!” 

“Yeah, that’s the most important bit!” Gustavo nodded. “I don’t care if you have hangovers because I will expect you to dance and sing today.” 

“And you.” Gustavo turned to Ronnie. “I expect you to write the next song. We’ll be working on the one I wrote.” 

Ronnie nodded and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Okay!” Gustavo clapped his hands together. 

“Let’s get to work!”

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday Game

Tagged by @wannab-urs @frenchiereading @megamindsecretlair @pedroshotwifey

Thank you all tagging me 🥰 You all know I always have ideas, the problem is usually follow through. 😂 and completion.

Step one: Post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on, then prioritize the one with the most votes.

Step three: Ask me about my WIPs! I've got lots of lore to share + more snippets, etc.

My March Spring Prompts! I’m really enjoying doing them this month. I’ve been trying to include as many different Pedro and Oscar characters as possible with some connecting drabbles. 🥰

A sample of part two of "The Lake between Us" (Thank you all for enjoying part one, I didn't quite expect such a response for it. Should I make a tag list for it? 🤔) Ezra AU x plus size OFC - name in future parts:

Things were tenuous at first but they worked out she’s to call him ‘Uncle’ or Mr. Ezra. It worked better in social situations and she became his little ‘Birdie.’ Scaling down the jobs he took on to mitigate risk was a challenge and were worth less but he had to live not only for himself now. The pair moved around some before he enrolled her in school in Louisiana but ensured that he taught her when she came home in the evenings and on the weekends. The child hated the extra lesions, but it enabled her to be leagues ahead of her peers as far as studies went. Ezra was determined not to suffer another fool and would do what he could so that Cee wouldn’t follow in her father’s steps of idiocy. The results of his care, diligence and support was realized at both her high school graduation which he had never imagined attending anyone’s graduation except his own and to travel with his charge to see the college she’d chosen.

Nuestras canciones (Our Songs) Santiago Garcia x Amalia (plus size OFC) @reallyrallyauthor liked my Santiago spring prompt for today so I felt motivated to finally write another part to this mini-series:

Santiago saw a woman by herself lost in the music, the glow from her skin from perspiration. He didn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t make his way over to her so he did, but he waited until she opened her eyes again and was surprised by him. She laughed and apologized where he told her there was no reason to. Holding his hands out, she peered down and slid her fingers along his palms. The last song died down and the next started, it was slower, sensual, intimate. Garcia interlocked his fingers with hers as they moved back and forth, step by step. His eyes met hers, pulling one of her hands toward him and placing it on his shoulder. His palm found a place on her hip as his lips skimmed her forearm up to her shoulder, pulling her closer. They didn’t say anything as they moved in sync. Once the music ended this time, they stepped outside so they could hear each other speak. By the time they finally exchanged phone numbers, the club was emptying out and Amalia looked toward her friends as did Santiago. The pair had spoken about the dancing, club, food, drinks, if they were single, music and a few bad jokes. Well, between the both of them, quite a few bad jokes. 

My third WIP is one that I choose to blame @mysterious-moonstruck-musings since she fancies herself a sweet Dieter. So I gotta deliver because this is what she wants apparently. 🤭 I have vibes and two paragraphs at this point. Basically, you meet Dieter through one of his PA (because he's got 4 or 5 personal assistants who keeps track?) and he finds drawn to you? Was it crocs? Was it pizza? Was it a two am dance party to Paramore and Linkin Park? Maybe it was all of them or something else entirely? I'll work it out.

My last WIP is one I've been kicking around for a bit. It's a WIP I have with Marcus Pike. I've been dabbling him after a shooting or passing his firearm recertification exam and having PTSD (because I haven't tortured a Pedro character recently 👀) This one is also vibes, still working it out. I started mentioning therapy in my March prompts and it snowballed into this WIP.

This is what I have this week. Poor Javi G's outline still isn't vibing with me. I am going to figure it out though. 😭

Let me know if you have any questions about any of them. 🤗

NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @gemmahale @schnarfer @romanarose @perotovar @soft-girl-musings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tinytinymenace @alltheglitterandtheroar @drawingdroid @yourcoolauntie @trulybetty @hannibals-favourite-meal @thefrogdalorian @gasolinerainbowpuddles

[jasmineleeplays]

El Cid moves his Camp to the city holding of Leon, Sarria. From there, he is able to reach his patron Count Diego Guterrez of Coruna whom he had helped defeat Count Diego's previous liege, the then-King Garcia who is now Infante Garcia "the Insane". El Cid proceeds to request for a Men-at-Arms unit and is subsequently gifted with the most expensive regiment - Armoured Footmen. How generous of Count Diego!

El Cid and his Master of Spoils, Mencia enter the City of Sarria to visit the Armourer, one Mr. Savaricu de Villanueva, at his smithy. Once there, El Cid sets his eye on the Castilian Scale Armour, though Common and not a Masterwork, it is well-made giving +2 Prowess and Injury Resistance.

El Cid's next move is to Sobrabe county in the Kingdom of Aragon, where a Fight Corruption contract is located. On the way there, his Master of Arms, Tahir who has a passion for wrestling challenges El Cid to a bout. El Cid of course wins the wrestling and gains some fame and respect from Tahir.

Unfortunately, when El Cid arrives in Sobrabe, the Fight Corruption contract had passed. There is instead a new set of contracts available, and so he decides to select the Protect Heritage contract for Wali Chisdai of Castellon, a Sephardi Jew who wants to gain Protected Title Revocation clause with his liege Emir Yahya of Tulaytulah.

On the way to Castellon in the markets of Caspe, El Cid wrestles a half-naked man also named Tahir, except he is of the noble house Mahdid and is a Giant. El Cid wins the bout handily and gains 50 gold.

Once he reached Castellon, El Cid proposes to use intimidation tactics (Martial skill) to "convince" Emir Yahya ibn al-Zafir of Tulaytulah to agree to Wali Chisdai's terms.

While the Intimidation Tactics Scheme is underway, El Cid's wife, Mistress Ximena falls pregnant again with El Cid's 3rd child and her 4th.

El Cid's Caravan Master and Friend, Martin Antolinez, appears to have a wicked hangover which gives him a pounding headache. El Cid does not sympathise, kicking Martin's horse into gear.

At long last, on 12th July 1076, El Cid completes the contract for Wali Chisdai by forcing Emir Yahya to negotiate rights of protection in favour of Wali Chisdai. El Cid gets paid 55 gold and gains a new patron.

The Loyal Vassals' Proving Grounds gets upgraded to Level 2 and the Camp's terrain has updated to the Mountainous region one.

Meanwhile, El Cid's Master of Spoils becomes henceforth known as Mencia "the Petulant" due to her being insolent and rude. She is married to Martin Antolinez.

[ulkaralakbarova]

After surviving a stabbing by a student, teacher Trevor Garfield moves from New York to Los Angeles. There, he resumes teaching as a substitute teacher. The education system, where violent bullies control the classrooms and the administration is afraid of lawsuits, slowly drives Garfield mad. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Trevor Garfield: Samuel L. Jackson Dave Childress: John Heard Ellen Henry: Kelly Rowan Cesar Sanchez: Clifton Collins Jr. Principal Garcia: Tony Plana Rita Martinez: Karina Arroyave Benny Chacon: Lobo Sebastian Larry Hyland: Jack Kehler Stevie Littleton: Jonah Rooney Paco: Demetrius Navarro Lakesia: Ebony Monique Solomon Barsek: Jonny Bogris Victor: Dominic Hoffman Mrs. Chacon: Martha Velez Dennis Broadway: Method Man Anglo Woman: Kathryn Leigh Scott Teacher: Sage Allen Animal Regulation Officer: Donal Gibson Asian Girl: Liza del Mundo Assistant Coroner: Vic Polizos New York Assistant Principal: Leonard L. Thomas Augie: Antwon Tanner Iris: Joanna Sanchez Walter: Richard Riehle Mrs. Ford: Esther Scott Librarian: Harri James Mrs. Santana: Esther Mercado Straggling Student: Chase A. Garland Voice in Crowd: Guy Torry Film Crew: Producer: Stephen McEveety Music: David Darling Screenplay: Scott Yagemann Producer: Bruce Davey Director of Photography: Ericson Core Music: Michael Stearns Casting: Marion Dougherty Editor: Stephen Semel Director: Kevin Reynolds Executive Producer: Mel Gibson Movie Reviews: CinemaSerf: This features a strong effort from Samuel L. Jackson but is really quite a depressing film to watch. He is “Garfield” – a teacher who survived a vicious knife attack at his previous school in New York, but who is still determined to persevere and so moves to another in Los Angeles. The teenage kids there are a pretty disparate bunch, not really interested in education and certainly not interested in authority. Except, maybe, “Rita” (Karina Arroyave) who wants to succeed despite the pressures from her peers. From the outset, “Garfield” has a challenger in the young “Cesar” (Clifton Collins Jr) and most of the film is spent teeing up the ultimate denouement between the two men, in what is really a rather unfulfilling fashion. Kevin Reynolds provides us here with a pretty savage indictment of an education system that could hardly be more indifferent to the needs of it’s staff or it’s students. Indeed the state of the buildings, the safety of just about everyone and the attitudes of the students seems to be wrapped in a self-perpetuating film of neglect and fear of law suits. Jackson presents us with a measured performance, but his character is a bit sterile. The sub-plot with his fearful colleague “Ellen” (Kelly Rowan) tries to inject a little humanity, but even that cannot penetrate the otherwise dark, gloomy and bleak storyline that may well be based in truth (it was written by a schoolteacher) but makes for a curiously downbeat and unmemorable piece of drama.

[ohsomightypeaches]

*gasp* it's here 🔥

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

Same. I felt that deeply.

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

That's what she said 😃

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

💀💀💀💀

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Screaming 💀💀💀💀WILLIAM

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

His brain short circuited and he panicked 💀💀💀

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

💀💀💀💀 WAIT WHY WOULDNT HE OWN AT LEAST THE ONE TIE I HAVE QUESTIONS FRANCISCO. IS MY MANS A FERAL CAT?! 3 IN 1 AND NOW NOT EVEN A SINGLE TIE?!?!? 😌 I'd still take him

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Oh sweetie.

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

😃 but the grays are 🔥🔥 maam

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

👏👏👏👏

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

�� damn. You did not need to dig in like that ma.

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Mama Morales is ruthless.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

LOL

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

😤 excuse me santiago garcia why not WHY NOT COME BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

My little debutante 🤣

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

👀🔥

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

NO SHOO GO AWAY LEAVE HIM ALONE

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

😤 he said what he said

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

🤭

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

GIRL NO WHY

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

🤷‍♀️ I mean if it gets broken you get a new one easy peasy

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

🔥🔥🔥🔥 that sza snl skit song immediately started playing in my head help

‘Eyes on me,’

😳🫣🥵

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

Ha

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

They ARE pretty 😌

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀BENJAMIN

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

💀💀💀

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

BENNY DONT BE RUDE

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

SCREAMING 💀💀💀💀💀

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

💀 FRANCISCO he's not wrong tho lol

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

💀💀💀💀💀💀 fucking in a tree doesn't sound pleasant tho. I know that's not the point but man no thank you

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

💯 nothing but facts

🥺 I love them. That's all.

Grays II

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays - Part I | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, matchmaking elements, meddlesome mother, lots of teasing, not-quite-friends to lovers dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, oral sex (F and M receiving), protected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 8.5k

Notes: It's here - 4 months later! First of all, thank you so much for the love for Grays Part I. I still can't quite believe the reaction to Frankie and Shiv, you guys sure know how to make a writer feel special 🥰 This one was so much fun to write, and nervous as I am posting this follow-up, I'm telling myself to let go of my insecurities and just enjoy it because that's what it's all about. I hope y'all will have a good time at this wedding with the gang 😘

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man. 

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots. 

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

He glares at himself in the mirror. He can’t put his finger on it, it just doesn’t look like how you did it. He’s already washed it out and started over twice, and for a second, he considers driving to your salon. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s far too late for that now.

Leaning over the sink, he says to his reflection, ‘Focus, pendejo. You can do it.’

He’s a pilot for fuck’s sake. He’s a man of procedure, he can follow steps. He just needs to break it down.

Hair half-dry - check.

Hair mousse applied - check.

Now he just needs to dry his hair all the way and style it - but the how is where it gets hazy. 

Frankie closes his eyes and casts his mind back to your salon. He’s sitting in the chair and you’re standing behind him. He wills himself to recall what you were doing with your hands, but all he remembers is the scrape of your of your fingertips on his scalp, the ghost of your breath on the back of his neck, and then -

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

He scrubs a frustrated palm down his face when his cock twitches in his haphazardly ironed dress pants, not for the first time… hell, not even the fourth time since he left your salon on Wednesday afternoon.

‘Goddamnit,’ he bites out, dropping the hairdryer with a clunk and grips the porcelain sink. He needs to calm the fuck down. 

He didn’t ask for - this, whatever this is. You’re you. You’re Shiv. The loudmouth with the wild hair he’s known since fifth grade. The fourth wheel at guys’ drinks when Will can’t make it. A relentless tease on a good day, and downright insufferable when you get enough tequila in you.

And quite possibly, the only person who’s ever driven him to the brink of unconsciousness with just the touch of their bare hands.

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe you’re right. It has been a while since he’s been with a woman. He just needs to get laid at the wedding, get this weird tension out of his system. And then hopefully, he’ll be able to go to sleep without being kept up by you telling him to go harder, deeper -

By the time he gets his head out of his ass, it’s too late for second-guessing. He rakes his fingers through his hair, sets it with hairspray, and quickly rubs the beard oil he bought in town yesterday into his whiskers. He takes a moment to look himself over while he clumsily does up the tie he borrowed from Pope.

This is as good as it’s gonna get.

He’s the designated driver tonight. By some miracle, he’s only five minutes late when he cruises into Pope’s driveway, where all three of the boys are waiting and sipping on beers.

‘Damn Fish, you look good,’ crows Santi as he climbs into the passenger seat, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You should get your hair cut at Shiv’s from now on.’

‘Only if you keep paying for it,’ retorts Frankie while he backs out of the driveway. He pauses as he changes gears, and adds in a grumble. ‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Pope barks in laughter, twisting in his seat to give Benny a knowing grin. ‘Someone had to, you caveman.’

The younger Miller brother ribs good-naturedly, ‘You ready for some action tonight, Fish? I brought some extra rubbers just in case.’

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

The car erupts with playful jeers, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile as he palms the steering wheel.

‘That’s some fighting talk, Fish!’ goads Santi, punching him on the arm.

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Benny grins. ‘Ok, I see how it is. Let’s make it interesting, Fish. Whoever picks up a one night stand first wins a hundred bucks.’

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

Benny chuckles and clasps his shoulder. ‘You’re on, man.’

It’s eight on the dot when you lock up the salon. While you did RSVP for wedding drinks - opting out of the sit-down dinner earlier in the evening - you hadn’t planned on actually going. But it seems like the whole town did, you’ve barely had two customers walk through the door all afternoon. 

So you let Ashton go home early, and after a quick snack, you take your time getting ready. Might as well have a Saturday night out - your first in many months.

The hotel is just a short Uber ride away. When you climb out of the car, you bite your bottom lip at the unfamiliar tension humming under your skin.

Nerves.

You’re nervous.

And worse, you know exactly what you’re nervous about. 

Or more precisely - who.

‘Pull it together, Shiv,’ you mutter under your breath. Steeling yourself, you stride into the hotel.

From his vantage point at the bar, Benny watches in amusement as Frankie glances towards the doors of the reception hall yet again. He doubts the pilot even knows he’s doing it, or at the very least, he doesn’t think that anyone would notice.

Grabbing his beer, Benny sidles up to his friend. ‘Looking for something, Fish?’

Frankie takes a sip of his Coke and feigns nonchalance. ‘Yeah, looking to win that hundred bucks from you.’

‘Dunno ‘bout that. I don’t see you trying very hard.’

‘Biding my time, Miller. Just make sure you have enough cash to -’ 

When Frankie breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Benny doesn’t need to look to wager a guess what caught his attention.

Turning around as you approach, he flings his arms out to give you a hug, eyeing you up and down appreciatively. ‘Babe, look at you all dressed up! Doesn’t she look nice, Fish?’

In lieu of an answer, Frankie stares intently at some invisible spot over your shoulder until Benny elbows him right in his stomach, jerking him out of his trance. ‘Fish?’

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t know if I look nice?’

Benny has to stopper his mouth with beer so he doesn’t laugh out loud at the panic on Frankie’s face as he fumbles for a response. ‘I mean. Um, nice… pants?’

‘It’s a jumpsuit, Morales. Try to keep up,’ you reply and take two steps towards him, which has him backpedalling so fast that he upsets the table behind him, sending half-empty glasses spilling wine all over the white tablecloth.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he growls at you like a cornered stray.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull him upright by his tie. ‘Is he ok, Ben? He’s even jumpier than usual.’

‘Well, it’s a funny night for him. Watching his ex get married and all.’

‘I swear to God, Benjamin Miller, if you don’t shut the fuck up -’ 

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Smoothing the lapels of his slightly crumpled suit jacket, you probe, ‘You’ve been using shampoo and conditioner like I asked?’

Frankie huffs a dry laugh. ‘I don’t remember you asking.’

‘Someone’s mouthy tonight,’ you tease. ‘And the beard oil?’

He concedes with a sigh. ‘Yes, Shiv.’

‘You look good, Francisco,’ you grin and reach up to push his curls back from his eyes.

He looks away as he admits, ‘Took three fucking tries.’

At least he holds still when you make small adjustments to his hair, shoulders stiff with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You catch yourself missing the way he leaned into your touch in your salon, and you have to forcefully push that thought away as you push your fingers through the roots to boost the volume. His curls feel softer already than you remember them, with a noticeably healthier sheen. 

After a final rustle to loosen up his fringe, you wink at him. ‘Mark my words, the bride will rue the day she dumped your ass when she sees you.’

A voice from behind you interrupts. ‘It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?’

Trading a look with Frankie, who gives you a sarcastic thumbs up, you put on a smile and turn on your heels. ‘Mrs. Morales, it’s been too long!’

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

Frankie’s taunt is so quiet that you nearly miss it. ‘Told you she’d come after you.’

Without skipping a beat, you elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his pained oomph from behind you. ‘You look wonderful tonight, ma’am.’ 

‘You can’t sweet talk your way out of my question, young lady.’

You cross your arms with a sigh. ‘I didn’t dye it because he looks good with the grays.’ 

‘Well, I don’t think so.’

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

Frankie throws his hands up in exasperation. ‘Gee, thanks a lot ma.’

You turn to Benny, who has been silently watching you two spar. ‘What do you think, Miller?’

He dithers, eyes darting around in desperation until he spots Santi and his older brother coming back from the bar. ‘Look! Here are the guys, let’s ask them!’

‘Ask us what?’ asks Santi, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a glass of bubbly.

‘Do you think my son looks good with the grays?’

Your eyebrow twitches when Mrs. Morales carelessly ruffles his hair to emphasise her point. To your surprise, Frankie bats her away with an irritated ma!, before hastily rearranging it.

‘Your honest opinion, if you please,’ you add.

The boys hum and haw, sipping their beers and shooting uncertain looks between you and Mrs. Morales, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the middle. Upping the heat, you narrow your eyes at them, and Will folds first. 

‘Yeah, I mean - he looks good,’ he mumbles, avoiding the Morales matriarch's glare.

‘Pope?’ you prompt.

‘Cabrón rocking those grays,’ he nods supportively.

‘Ben?’

‘Uh huh,’ he replies vaguely, but at your menacing glare, clarifies, ‘Yes, I meant - yes, ma’am.’

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Ah, that’s the easy part. You look around, scanning the crowds - and bingo, you see a brunette staring openly from across the dance floor. You hold up a finger for dramatic effect. ‘Excuse me for one second.’

Frankie looks ready for the earth to swallow him whole by the time you return with the said woman in tow. Pointing straight at him, you ask, ‘Lucy, this is Frankie. Do you think he’s hot with the grays?’

To her credit, she’s a good sport, and plays along with a cheeky wink. ‘Yeah, he is. You wanna dance, handsome?’

‘Yes, he absolutely does!’ you answer quickly before he can get a word in.

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger. 

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

‘Have fun, Fish!’ calls out Pope impishly, which earns him an emphatic middle finger. 

You beam at Mrs. Morales smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done.’

‘You better keep it up, young lady,’ she says over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

Santi is minding his own business, sipping on his beer as he stakes out the ladies, when a hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck, man?!’ he bristles indignantly.

Frankie polishes off the drink in one mouthful, before slamming it onto the table and demanding, ‘Where’s Shiv? I’m done. I’m not fucking dancing with anyone else.’

Pope jerks his thumb to the other side of the room. ‘She’s arguing with your mother.’

Frankie flops into a chair, the dress shoes that he never wears are pinching his feet and he fights the urge to kick them off. He folds his arms across his chest petulantly, one palm over his mouth as his eyes wander across the hall to you, where you’re gesturing madly at his ma, embroiled in an impassioned discussion, probably still about his damn hair.

You’re all dressed up tonight, which is new to him - he’s only ever seen you in jeans when you go out drinking with them, and he’s certainly never seen so much of you. The ‘jumpsuit’ (he learns something new every day) is black and cut low both front and back, and fuck, all he sees is soft skin and the dip of your curves and red lipstick -

Pope must have nipped to the bar while he wasn’t looking, and a fresh bottle of beer appears under his nose. Glancing up at his best friend, Frankie mutters, ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

He chokes violently at the casual non-sequitur, spraying beer everywhere. ‘What the fuck, Pope.’

Santi beams. ‘You got that look on your face, man. I’ve seen that look before.’

‘I don’t have a look on my face.’

He chuckles, mostly to himself. 'Damn, I really should've seen this coming.'

‘What are you even on about -’ Looking up, Frankie spots you making your way over and panics. ‘Shut the fuck up, pendejo.’

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Santi chortles and takes his leave, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Fish.’

You sink into the empty seat next to him and he deliberately twists his body away from you, drinking deeply from his bottle to drown out Santi’s words ringing in his ears. 

‘So, I heard you have a bet going on with Benny. I want splitsies if you win.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, staring resolutely anywhere but at the swell of your cleavage. ‘No.’

‘40/60.’

‘Fuck off, Shiv.’

‘30/70?’ you counter-offer.

He sighs. ‘You’re impossible.’

Ignoring him, you jump up with a happy squeak when someone Frankie vaguely recognises as a girl who used to be in your class approaches with a shy smile. You pull her close by the crook of her arm and ask, ‘Morales, you remember Sadie?’

He tries not to scowl too openly as he too gets on his feet. ‘Sure, hi Sadie.’

Herding them towards the dancefloor, you grin, ‘Go dance, get reacquainted.’

As he passes by you, Frankie grits his teeth and curls his fingers into the meat of his palms to crush the urge to reach out and touch you. 

But it’s easier to fall into your well-rehearsed roles, to toe the line that has been drawn in the sand since you were teenagers. And easier is certainly the safer option when it comes to you.

So he throws you a deliberate glare over his shoulder, with a deadpanned, ‘I hate you.’

You blow him a kiss and grin wider.

Frankie can’t hold back a relieved sigh when the interminably long song finally ends, and the woman he’s dancing with - he won’t even pretend he remembers her name - tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket after tapping in her number. ‘Call me, gorgeous.’

He stopped counting after the eighth woman you shepherded his way. This is it. He’s not above hiding in the toilets if that’s what it takes to make this stop.

Except he’s not quick enough. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, marching straight towards him with a fresh glass of water and a look of purpose on your face.

He doesn’t exactly know what came over him. He could probably blame it on the one and a half beers that he downed, or being pushed to the end of his tether. Whatever it is, there’s something he has to say to you, and it can’t wait.

You push the glass into his grasp. ‘Here, hydrate.’

‘Shiv -’

You’ve already swivelled around, your focus somewhere else. ‘Where is she? She was literally just behind me -’

‘Shiv -’

‘Mind you, she’s a sweet girl, but clearly not the brightest tool in the -’

His patience snaps, and he barks, ‘Shiv!’

You spin around, brow furrowed in confusion, and snarl back, ‘What?’

Frankie pauses, and you blink as his warm eyes hold yours. On an exhale, he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

You’re vaguely aware that your jaw has gone slack, but only because his eyes follow the movement, dropping to your mouth. He considers you for a moment, head tipping just slightly to the side as he watches you. Then, satisfied that he has your attention, he brings the glass of water to his lips, throwing his head back as he drinks. 

Your breath catches in your throat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, before he leisurely swipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

In a perfectly mirrored imitation of what transpired between you earlier in the evening, he takes two measured steps forward, prompting you to back up against the table behind you. The tinkle of glasses falling over hardly registers in the back of your mind. 

The fabric of his suit is cool on your skin, brushing your bare arm as he looms over you, so broad and warm. Though his front barely makes contact, your peripheral vision gives and all you can see is him.

‘What are you doing?’ you croak the same words back at him, hating the way your voice shakes.

Frankie smiles - really smiles at you, with no colour of the usual irony or sarcasm. Warmth settles into the creases in the corners of his eyes as he holds up the empty glass. ‘Just putting my glass away,’ he says coolly, an edge of cockiness at your tragically obvious reaction to him.

You feel your cheeks heat up as he does just that - the back of his hand bumping into your forearm as he moves, the breadth of him pinning you against the table. He doesn’t pull away, clearly basking in the way the tables have well and truly turned -

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

Frankie squeezes his eyes shut in irritation at the voice behind him, nostrils flaring as he collects himself. A resigned smile tugs at his lips, and he tips forward, his words grazing your ear. ‘Catch you later, Shiv.’

You only let your knees buckle when he’s safely out of sight.

You’ve barely stepped back into the reception hall from a much needed bathroom break to clear your head when someone grabs you by the arm, tugging you onto the dancefloor.

‘Benny!’ You reprimand, stumbling over your feet. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Relax, Shiv. Frankie can survive on his own for a second.’

‘You’re just jealous that he’s hogging all the ladies’ attention.’

He scoffs, palms on your waist as he sways to the music. ‘He has an unfair advantage, ok? How do I compete with the bride’s ex?’

Clasping your hands around Benny’s neck, you catch Frankie’s eye over his shoulder. You wink at him casually, having somewhat recovered your bravado - it’s easier to pretend from a distance anyway. He rolls his eyes at you over Jan’s head, but he doesn’t look away, watching you with a hint of something you can’t quite make out.

Glancing up at Benny, you ask a tad bashfully, ‘I know we give Frankie a hard time about all this, but is he - ok?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

You hesitate. ‘Well, we’re not exactly that kind of friends.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the kind who sit around having heart-to-hearts and painting their nails.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of friends are you, then?’ 

‘I don’t know, he probably doesn’t even count me as one,’ you admit. ‘He barely tolerates me on a good day.’

Benny shoots you a cryptic look, but before you can quiz him on it, he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Can I swing by the salon tomorrow morning? I have a promotional shoot at half past eleven.’

‘As long as you bring donuts and coffee.’

He twirls you around. ‘Deal.’

Frankie slinks out of the hotel, somehow managing to dodge both you and his mother on his way out, which he takes as a win.

It’s cold outside. He inhales deeply and feels it burn down his throat. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches his breath mist in front of his face, savouring the quiet.

‘Hey.’

His shoulders stiffen. He knows he should’ve been the bigger man. Should’ve sought her out first, to congratulate her.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

When he turns around eventually, she smiles brightly at him, her engagement ring catching the lights.

Closing the space between them, he presses a kiss to her cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you came. Your mum too - it was a long way to travel.’

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

‘How are you?’ she presses on, always one for polite conversation. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

Frankie shrugs but doesn’t answer.

‘Just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean I want you to be happy.’

He nods slowly. ‘I appreciate that.’

She points behind her. ‘Well, I should go back inside.’

‘Of course. I’m happy for you,’ he says. And he means it.

The hotel doors swing open, and Frankie looks up at the sharp clack of heels on the concrete. You pause at the sight of them by the curb.

‘Are you leaving, Shiv?’ the bride laments as you walk over to give her a hug.

‘I am, I’m afraid, gotta open up shop early tomorrow,’ you pull back. ‘Come by the salon any time, my treat.’

Once the bride is out of earshot, you turn to Frankie, hands on hips. ‘Alright, no more shirking, Morales. Get your ass back in there, your mother is on my case again.’

He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh no, I’m not going back in there without you.’

You sigh dramatically. ‘Am I the only one in this town who’s not scared of your mother?’

‘You should be,’ he snorts, then nods towards the parking lot. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

Taken aback by his offer, you hesitate. ‘Um - I thought you were the designated driver for the guys tonight.’

He brushes off your concerns with an easy shrug. ‘I’ll come back to get them after I drop you off.’ 

Typical Frankie - he walks off without even glancing back to see if you’re coming with him.

You smile to yourself and follow.

You must be drunker than you realised, because you’re staring. Again. For what must be the fifth time in the ten-minute drive.

It’s a lot of staring, even for you.

His jacket lies abandoned in the backseat, his tie jostled loose and the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, sleeves bunched up to his elbows. You watch from the corner of your eye as his left hand grips the top of the steering wheel steady, fingers flexing every now and then on straight stretches of road.

As if you’re not already discreetly squeezing your thighs together, he’s also rubbing his right palm idly on his leg, the innocent rustle of fabric against skin getting you far too hot and bothered under the metaphorical collar. 

And then - your eyes trail higher - settling on the heavy bulge at the top of his spread thighs.

Fuck. You’re definitely drunk.

You mull silently to yourself that you actually prefer him in his beat-up jeans and threadbare t-shirts before catching yourself. You weren’t aware you had any preferences when it comes to Frankie Morales. And you have no business doing so.

Clearing your throat, you break the tense silence. Well, tense for you, anyway. He seems completely oblivious to your inner strife.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win the bet.’

His lips quirk, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

‘I had another five girls lined up for you, you know.’

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

You reach over to punch him on the arm playfully. ‘C’mon, you know you enjoyed the attention, Morales.’

‘You don’t know me very well, do you?’ he peers at you.

You make a face of disbelief. ‘If you hated it that much, why did you go along with it?’

Cruising into your street, his truck rolls to a smooth stop outside your salon. Frankie kills the ignition, then turns towards you. His answer is simple, and hits you right between the ribs. 

‘Because you wanted me to.’

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

It would be simpler to pretend you didn’t understand what he means. To brush off this pull between you as a champagne-induced episode that you could sleep off. If you did, you could still show up at Tuesday nights drinks next week as if nothing has changed, and carry on.

It would be simpler. So you ask -

‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap?’

Frankie follows two steps behind you as you grapple with the keys on the doorstep. Once inside, the salon is quiet, and you strategically turn on the lights by the backwash, the semi-darkness making it more homey than it would have been if fully lit up. 

‘I would invite you upstairs -’ you pause and add hastily, ‘I don’t mean upstairs like, upstairs in that way - it’s just that my apartment is tiny, and the backwash is the closest thing I have to a couch. Are you okay with beer?’

‘Beer’s good, thanks,’ he answers. ‘Need a hand?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Oh god, please no - it’s a disaster upstairs. I’ll be right back.’

The rickety stairs creak loudly under your heels, and once you let yourself into your studio, you fall back heavily on the door, taking a second to catch your breath.

You invited him inside. 

He said yes.

You leap into action, shoving all your dirty laundry into the already full hamper. You try not to think too hard about why you’re cleaning up, you just hope you’re not making too much of a ruckus while you’re at it - because you have a boy waiting for you downstairs. 

Francisco Morales, of all people.

Despite having been in each other’s lives since high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve never been alone with him. Not even once. There’s always a buffer with Pope on his side, Benny on yours, and Will in the middle. And while some find Frankie hard to read, you’ve always known exactly how to act around him. You have an unwritten playbook - you bait him with cheap jokes, more often than not joining forces with Benny to gang up on him. He rolls his eyes and snaps at you to shut up. It’s the longest running show in town.

But this? Alone, after his ex’s wedding, in your salon? You’re going off-script and off-piste. Dangerous enough on a good day; outright stupid after a night of drinking.

Frankie is quick to help when you reappear, armed with beer and a bag of ice, using the backwash sink as a makeshift cooler. Your shoes clatter onto the floor as you settle in the chair next to his. Hugging your knees, you hold out your bottle, which he clinks with his.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ you ask, rather mundanely.

‘As much fun as one is expected to have at an ex’s wedding,’ he answers with a sardonic smile. Taking a sip of beer, he adds, ‘Gotta admit, you winding up my ma pretty much made up for it.’

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

You startle when Frankie chokes on his beer, his eyes visibly watering as he thumps a fist on his chest. When you ask if he’s ok, he won’t meet your gaze, downing more of his beer.

Not thinking anything of it, you move on. ‘You know, she sent a bunch of customers my way when I first opened up the salon.’

His voice is still a bit tight from his coughing fit. ‘And I’m sure she’ll deny it till the day she dies.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ you admit. ‘I can’t decide if she hates me or not.’

‘She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand you.’

You hum, unconvinced.

He nudges your knee with his. ‘She was really proud of you when you opened the salon, you know.’

You toss him a sidelong glance. ‘You talk to your mum about me?’

He’s ambiguous in his answer. ‘She asks after you sometimes.’

‘And how would you have anything to say to her? We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’

Frankie concedes with a wry smile, ‘Benny talks.’

‘Ha!’ you laugh, echoing his words from a few days ago back at him. ‘Benjamin fucking Miller.’

He goes quiet for a second, looking around your salon as if taking stock. ‘It’s pretty amazing that you’ve built all this.’

The unexpected compliment catches you blindsided. You reply diplomatically, ‘Ashton helps me loads.’

Frankie’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. ‘Are you going humble on me now? What have you done to Shiv?’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble good-naturedly, adding, ‘Ben tells me you’re doing really well yourself.’

‘Yeah. I got promoted at work last month, and I’m saving up for a house,’ he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Things are looking up.’

‘You’re actually acknowledging your achievements?’ you gasp in mock outrage. ‘What have you done to Francisco Morales?’

With a shrug, he leans forward to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he sways even closer, one palm landing on the leather of your seat next to your knee, eyes darting to your lips. His voice is deep as he rasps, ‘Can I kiss you?’

It would be so easy to say yes, but when have you ever made things easy for yourself? 

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

Frankie looks amused, like he expected this from you. Slowly, not wanting to spook you, he gently plucks the beer that you’ve barely drunk from your grasp.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

He leans in close. 

You stop breathing.

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

Closer still.

Your lungs ache.

‘And because when you told me to go harder, deeper - I nearly lost my fucking mind.’

He’s hovering over you now, and you can almost taste the bitter sweetness of the beer on his breath. He smirks at you, but there’s only warmth and mischief in it when he teases, ‘Speechless for once?’

‘Shut up, Morales,’ you breathe and grab him by the collar of his shirt.

And then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing Frankie, and he’s kissing you back.

It’s messy, and disorientating, and you clumsily fumble over each other until he’s sitting up in one of the chairs, with your thighs on either side of his narrow hips as you straddle him. He’s licking up into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your sides almost painfully hard.

‘Is this really happening?’ you garble into his lips, ripping off his tie and undoing his shirt buttons as fast as your shaking fingers allow you to.

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

He kisses you wet and insistent, but he doesn’t push you, waiting for you to make up your mind. Reaching behind you, you tug on the tie that holds your jumpsuit together with a decisive pull, letting the fabric ripple down your bare front and pool around your waist.

Frankie bites his bottom lip so hard it goes white. ‘Fuck,’ he cusses, his grip on your hips twitching as he stares at your tits. ‘Can I, please -?’

‘Touch me, Francisco.’

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

This being the way Frankie effortlessly tosses you onto the mattress, his arms flexing with an easy strength that goes straight to your head, as you stare giddily up at him.

His hair - your handiwork - has been well and truly undone, errant strands falling over his eyes as he watches you, his broad frame looming over the foot of the bed. He pulls at his belt, which falls open with a careless clink, and he makes quick work of his now crumpled trousers, kicking them off impatiently.

Your head is swimming, yet somehow, you muster the strength to shuffle towards the edge of the bed, rearranging yourself to sit on your haunches, knees folded neatly beneath you. Boldly, you reach out to slide his dark boxers down his hips, and they fall around his knees and onto the floor. His cock springs free, half-hard and heavy, and Frankie swallows thickly as you tilt your face towards him.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

His eyes close as if he’s in pain, nostrils flaring at your words. Taking advantage of his distraction, you wrap one careful hand around his length, and he jerks violently at the first velvety slide of your palm against him. 

‘Fuck, Shiv -’ he chokes, eyes flying open at the contact, pupils completely blown. He protests weakly, ‘No, stop, need to get you off first -’

You shoot him a lopsided smile, pumping him slowly, your pulse racing at the way you feel him swell in your grasp. ‘Can we not argue this one time?’

You lean forward and, holding his gaze, flatten your tongue and lick your way up the underside of his cock. His breath stutters, one big hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his eyes wide and almost frantic as you press open-mouthed kisses on his sensitive flesh.

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

His size is obvious by sight, but you really feel it in the pressure bearing down on the hinge of your jaw as you sink down on his cock, fighting to squeeze the girth of him into your mouth. The guttural groan from Frankie makes your pussy clench, and he tastes like he looks - clean, and all man. 

There’s no way you can take all of him, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. He’s hot under your touch, muscles pulled taut with tension that you can feel thrumming under his skin as you take your time with him. Focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, you bob patiently up and down on him, slicking up his length with your spit, working him slightly deeper with every stroke - until you’re so full of him that you gag, hard.

Frankie is slack-jawed when you release him with an obscenely wet pop, spit trailing from your lips to the swollen tip of his cock, eyes wild as swipes his thumb across your puffy bottom lip. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he declares, almost solemnly.

Slinking down his front, one hand securely around the base of his cock, you take him between your lips again, moaning at the salty taste of his precum, which makes him quake above you. As you swallow his length and pump your fist in tandem, your spit wetting your fingers, you peer up at him through your lashes - nothing could’ve prepared you for the utter wreckage that you find on his face. 

His lips are pulled back, baring his tidy teeth into a snarl as he very clearly struggles to hold himself back from fucking your mouth. You feel every bump and vein in his cock with each descent, the wet squelches filling in the gaps of his low grunts and moans. His grip in your hair stings as he starts panting in earnest above you, and somehow he gets even harder on your tongue, making it harder to breathe - 

‘Stop, stop,’ he wheezes suddenly, pulling back in a hasty retreat that has you whining at the sudden loss of him. ‘C’mere.’

He practically hauls you up against him, kissing you deeply, delving into your mouth to taste the bitterness of himself on your tongue. The world tilts on its axis when he tips you back onto the bed, and holding himself above you, he peels the jumpsuit off, leaving you in just your panties.

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

‘Fuck, yes, Frankie, please,’ you beg.

There’s no shyness when he pushes your legs up and apart, and instead of taking your panties off, he hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pulls it to the side, his eyes darkening as he stares down at you.

‘So pretty,’ he praises you lowly. Holding your breath as he sinks onto his front, you breathe heavily in anticipation as his shoulders slot neatly underneath your legs. ‘Look at how wet you are for me. All this from sucking my cock?’

You nod frantically. ‘Frankie -’

Straight to the point as always, he ducks his dark head and drags the broad of his tongue over your clit - and you’re gone.

Admittedly, you have not had the best experiences with your exes. There was always too much gratuitous moaning and too little finesse, and afterwards, they always act like they deserve a medal for failing to get you off. But even if your past lovers had been more adequate in the field, you’re sure it still wouldn’t have prepared you for this. 

Frankie goes about it with a quiet focus that veers on reverential, the intensity in his dark eyes watching you makes your knees weak. He’s obviously picking up signs and reactions from you and adjusting his game plan accordingly, the pilot in him clearly in the driver’s seat. 

Not that he’s silent - far from it, you feel the reverberation in your core with every satisfied  hum deep in his chest, and the occasional, muttered fuck, so wet, want more in between licks and groans. But there’s nothing performative or showy about it, just a forthright competency that has you hurtling towards a toe-curling orgasm.

‘Frankie,’ you whine when you feel it about to hit. ‘Frankie Frankie Frankie -’

‘Eyes on me,’ he slurs against your sopping folds, and you listen - for once - watching him watch you fall apart on his tongue, thrashing in his hold as he grips you harder to keep you in place while he laps you up, until the burn of his patchy beard on your inner thighs makes you arch away from him from overstimulation.

Your pussy is still fluttering when he sinks two thick fingers into you, and he hisses at the way it clenches around him as he fucks you, leaving his digits slicked and slippery.

‘So tight, baby,’ he declares through gritted teeth, working you open for him. ‘Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock.’

You point towards the nightstand. ‘First drawer,’ you pant.

Needing no further prompting, Frankie yanks your panties off and flings the soaked scrap of fabric over his shoulder, then lunges at the cupboard where the condoms are. You scrape your nails over his thighs as he kneels over you, his usually steady hands visibly trembling as he tears into the wrapper and rolls the rubber over his heavy cock. He watches you with hooded eyes and settles between your legs, kissing you desperately as the swollen tip of him nudges at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, nose skimming yours sweetly.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. ‘Fuck me, Frankie.’

The first push is a tight squeeze, and you can’t help the wince at the slight pinch as he sinks into you slowly. With a grunt of effort, he buries face into the slope of your neck and breathes, ‘Fuuuuck. You ok?’

‘Give me a second,’ you gasp, feeling your walls throb tightly around his length. ‘You’re so big, Frankie.’

He tangles his tongue with yours lazily in a deep kiss, before brushing his way down your throat and sucking on one nipple, making you cry out. He murmurs against your skin, ‘I know, but you’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Shifting your hips, Frankie groans when you slide him in deeper, the friction making you quiver beneath him. ‘Move, Frankie, please.’

He starts carefully, his strokes measured and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him as he draws back then sinks back in, exhaling shakily. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

‘Harder,’ you demand when you feel your pussy relax around him. ‘Fuck me harder.’

‘Shit,’ he growls and snaps his hips, drawing a squeal from you as he hits somewhere deep inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, bracing yourself as he drives into you again and again and again, the bedframe hitting the wall with each thrust.

‘So good, Frankie,’ you plead in between hard pants. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop -’

Looking up at him, you admire the way his hair falls over his eyes, swaying with his movement. Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

As wrecked as you are on his cock, you smile at his confession and slide your hands languidly in his locks, dragging your nails on his scalp, your chest swelling with pride when you watch his face - dazed and completely wrecked - fucking you so hard that you’re sure the bed is about to break.

When he finds his voice again, it’s your real name that slips past his lips. ‘Gonna cum so hard, oh fuck - I’m gonna -’

Frankie’s thrusting frantically into you, eyes screwed shut until his hips stutter and then - after one perfect moment of stillness suspended in time - shudder after shudder thunder through his body, your name a broken record as he spills into the condom, his scratchy baritone moaning into your neck as the frenzied energy bleeds out of him.

His weight pins you to the bed as he catches his breath, and you play with his curls gently, basking in the rumbling purr in his chest as you run the strands between your fingers. Eventually, gathering himself, he rolls off you to let you breathe, tying the condom neatly and tossing it into the trash can.

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

You laugh, which makes him grin. One strong arm reaches out to tuck you into his side, securely beneath the duvet. You hum at the tickle of his beard on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

Right on the cusp of sleep, you sass, ‘Guess you’ll have to split the winnings with me after all.’

Any other day, you would’ve woken up if you heard someone on the stairwell. Hell, you’d hear if they were knocking on the salon door downstairs.

When you’re rudely shaken awake by frantic knocking on the studio door, you realise it’s because your hearing has been impaired by the side of a very warm body smooshed into your ear.

‘Shiv! Open up! I need to leave in fifteen minutes for my photoshoot!’

‘Shit,’ you croak, throat dry, limbs flailing as you try to sit up. ‘I forgot about Benny.’

‘Fuck him’, grouses Frankie, pulling you back into his arms, eyes still closed.

‘I can’t, I promised to help him with his hair. Fuck, do we need to hide you, or -’

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Frankie lets you go with a grumbled Benjamin fucking Miller under his breath, but he visibly perks up when you stumble out of bed naked.

You half-jokingly shield your boobs from his view. ‘Are you perving on me, Morales?’

He smirks, leaning back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head while he eyes you appreciatively. It’s not fair how his triceps flex deliciously with the movement. ‘Why bother covering up? I’ve seen everything already.’

Trying - and failing - to shoot him a stern scowl, you pull on a robe and yank the door open, nearly careening backwards at the sight of Benny’s grinning face right in the doorway. 

‘Since when did you bang paying customers?’ he demands in lieu of a good morning.

You roll your eyes and usher him downstairs. ‘He’s not a paying customer. He’s on Pope’s tab.’

Benny flops into his usual chair, making it squeak, one eyebrow up as he does the air quotes. ‘Well, I guess we now know what kind of friends you guys are.’

‘Shut up, Miller,’ you gripe, but your mouth twists into a grin, giving you away as you set up.

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

You point your styling scissors at him menacingly. ‘Shut up, or I won’t be held responsible if my hands slip by accident.’

Benny feeds you a sugar donut while you work quickly, trimming the ends before styling it, going for a tousled bed head look. You hear the water pipes run upstairs and the carpeted floors creak when Frankie gets up. Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

Frankie loiters behind you for a second, scratching the back of his neck, before pulling you to one side. Not that it affords you much privacy anyway, with Benny wriggling his eyebrows impertinently at the two of you in the mirror.

‘I - uh -,’ he starts haltingly, one hand rubbing at the silver patch in his beard sheepishly. ‘I had a really good time last night.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ you smile.

His voice dipping lower, he asks, ‘Can I take you out to dinner sometime?’

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

‘She’ll get to you when she gets to you, Benjamin,’ snaps Frankie, one hand on his hip and the other pointing a stern finger at him.

Something about him being so assertive sends heat running up and down your spine. Stepping into his space - beaming when he doesn’t back away - you smooth a palm over the front of his shirt, unintentionally catching the rabbiting of his heart underneath.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug nonchalantly. ‘Do you intend to come back as a cash-paying customer?’

His eyes flash with want, one hand closing around your hip and he leans down to let his heated words brush by your ear. ‘Not if I can keep paying in other ways.’

Reaching up, you run a hand through his curls, preening at the way he closes his eyes at your touch. ‘Alright then, take me to dinner, Francisco.’

Peering around you, Frankie barks, ‘Miller, I’m cashing in on our bet.’

‘Fuck’s sake. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,’ he gripes, digging into his wallet reluctantly.

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head and playfully push him towards the door. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind!’

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

You’re not sure which makes your jaw drop - his cocksure declaration or the roguish confidence with which he walks out the door. In either case, Benny howls with laughter as you struggle to stay on your feet, your kneecaps having been rendered completely useless.

Just as Frankie climbs into his truck, Ashton whistles to a stop outside the salon on his wheels. Jaw dropping at the sight of the disheveled pilot nodding at him through the windscreen, he abandons his bike right on the curb and dashes into the salon, the door banging against the wall as he rushes in.

‘Excuse me - what the fuck did I just miss?’ he demands frantically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Calm down, Ashton, it’s not what it looks like -’

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

He breaks off with a yelp when you stuff a donut into his mouth to shut him up, sugar flying everywhere as Ashton picks you up and spins you around, squealing like a banshee the entire time.

‘You guys are the fucking worst,’ you laugh, out of breath by the time Ashton lets you go.

Glancing outside, where Frankie is still parked watching the whole embarrassing episode, he gives you one last wink and an amused grin before he pulls away from the curb.

In an almost exact repeat of the scene from a few days ago, Ashton joins you at the window, and the two of you watch, shoulder to shoulder, as Frankie smoothly steers his truck out of your street.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

You grin. You know you are - and luckily, it’s not a spot of bother that you’ll be in a hurry getting out of anytime soon.

Notes: I'm so excited to have finally completed this little two-shot. The two of them have been hanging out in my head all these months, it feels amazing to finally yeet this part into the world! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had as much fun as I did with these two 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️

Now that I've got you here, if you want more of Shiv, I wrote some silly little drabbles of her hair appointments with our handsome Pedro boys for a recent milestone celebration. There are also some fun thoughts that came out of an impromptu Grays sleepover we had last week 🤍

I'm sure we'll see more of Shiv and Frankie somewhere down the line. For now, thank you again, I love you all so much ❤️

[babymetaldoll]

"The Sean Hotchner effect" (Spencer Reid / Reader)

My gif 😉

Requested: Yes

Summary: Spencer is jealous 'cos reader (and the rest of the female team) thinks Hotchner's younger brother is hot.

Warnings: Cursing

Category: Fluff

Word count: 4,5K

A/N: I can' believe I actually wrote a fic! I've been so busy taking care of my grandparents I've just been updating DIWK, 'cos those chapters were long written and edited. Hope you all enjoy this little story, I'll bring you a more next week, hopefully! send you all my love!! be safe babes!

Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Working at the BAU, the team was used to seeing the worst of human behavior. Murder scenes, abuse, psychopath, you name it.

That's why seeing the apparition that walked into the bullpen that morning was such a big shock for us, the team's females.

- "What are you doing out of your bunker?"- Elle asked Penelope, who was standing next to my desk. I whipped my head, surprised to see Garcia there, out of the blue, not even looking at us. Instead, her eyes were fixated on someone who wasn't Derek.

- "I was on my way to file the things that I... file?"- Garcia made a pause as Elle and I slowly turned and looked at the guy our tech analyst couldn't stop staring at.

He was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, perfect smile. The kind of guy that could definitely get every girl's attention. We didn't get many of those at the BAU that often, except, of course, for Dr. Spencer Reid. My best friend was hands down the hottest agent in the whole FBI, and I enjoyed having him near. But this guy was completely different.

- "Who is that?"- Elle asked and stood by our side.

- "The Future Mr. Garcia,"- Penelope whispered as the tall young man walked over us and cut us one flirtatious smile. I couldn't help it and returned the smile.

- "Hi"- I smiled and waved- "How can I help you?"

- "Hey. I'm..."

- "Sean!"- Derek Worst time ever Morgan ruined the whole moment as he walked over and took that hot guy away from us. Now at least we knew his name was Sean.

- "You must be looking for your brother."- Morgan said and tapped on his back.

- "Yeah."

- "Right this way"- and that's how that apparition was gone from our lives and directed straight to... Aaron Hotchner's office?

- "Brother as in?"- Elle asked and turned to us, confused- "That's Hotch's brother?!"

- "Maybe Hotch is adopted,"- Garcia whispered, not taking her eyes from Sean until he disappeared behind the door.

- "I feel scammed. We didn't get the hot brother"- I sighed and shook my head- "Well, I might have never solved a case with that smile around the bullpen"- Elle and Penelope giggled, but someone coughed behind my back, and immediately, I knew who he was.

- "Who are you guys talking about?"

Spence Walter Reid was standing right behind my back, and the look in his eyes wasn't as sweet and friendly as I was already used to. He was upset. I just didn't know why.

- "No one"- I lied and looked away.

- "Who were you all staring at?"- Reid asked. I quickly returned to my desk (right in front of his), grabbed a few files, and pretended to be working.

- "Aaron's brother"- Elle explained- "Apparently, we got the wrong Hotchner."

- "Sean?"- Spencer frowned and looked at us- "He just got into Georgetown law school. Maybe he came to pick up his brother to celebrate."

- "Who is gonna celebrate?"- JJ walked over, holding a bunch of folders, and looked at us.

- "Hotch and my future husband"- Garcia sighed and kept looking over at Aaron's door.

- "Sean, Hotch's brother is here, and believe me, he looks nothing like his brother."

Elle smiled and moved a chair across from her desk to make sure she had the best seat in the room to see Sean when he walked out. I shook my head as Elle winked at me.

- "Stop pretending you didn't see him, (Y/N). You were the one who talked to him."

I swear, I could feel Spencer's eyes on me, burning my skin. I slowly turned around and looked at him with a small, innocent smile. But all I got in return was a stern look.

- "I just... wanted to... help him"- I tried to excuse myself, but Elle laughed, and Garcia followed.

- "Sure, babe. He looked like he was hopelessly lost in the BAU. He needed your help to find his brother."- I don't know why Elle was acting like that, but she made sure Spencer would be even more upset than he already was.

- "Stop it! I just asked if he needed any help."

- "Oh! and you would have given him a hand with anything he needed, wouldn't you?"- Elle chuckled and winked again.

- "Oh sweet Jesus, I would. All he has to do is ask, and he..."- Penelope got carried away in second, and she only paused her words when Hotch's door slammed open, and we all looked at Sean storming out of the office.

- "That's Hotch's brother?"- JJ asked, surprised. Elle nodded and literally bit her lips as she stared at him, walking over. Penelope barely even blinked, and I made my best not to make eye contact with him. Instead, I looked at Reid. And he locked eyes in mine, but again, his look was cold.

- "I don't see it"- JJ stared at Sean as he clearly argued with Hotch. I stayed still, sitting behind my desk, looking at the files.

- "You know what?! Don't profile me, Aaron!"- Sean yelled, and I could only imagine Penelope's crush growing bigger with each word that came from his mouth.

- "Now I see it!"- JJ followed Sean with her eyes as he rushed out of the BAU.

- "I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you walk away."- Penelope whispered, and we all giggled.

- "Do you think Hotch is hiding that ass?"- Elle asked, and I couldn't hold the laughter.

- "I didn't want to think of that!"

- "Oh please!! (Y/N) stop being such a goodie-goodie!!"- Elle smacked my arm and shook her head- "You stared at his ass. Deal with it. You are single! You don't have to pretend you don't see a hot guy when you see one."

- "I saw him. He was cute. I'm just... not... that... affected...."

- "You don't have to pretend,"- Spencer said suddenly and raised an eyebrow- "Your body language indicates that you are nervous. You are blinking rapidly, our pupils are dilated, and you've been bouncing your knees since you sat down. Obviously, Hotch's brother affected you."

I opened my mouth to answer, but Hotch himself interrupted us and announced we had a case. Spencer just kept his eyes on mine for a few more seconds before walking away quickly to the conference room.

- "Looks like pretty boy is jealous,"- Elle teased and stood up too- "I don't know why if he ain't your boyfriend."

- "I know he ain't my boyfriend, and I'm sure he is not jealous. You are all just acting like school girls around a hot guy."- I tried to argue as I stood up and followed them to the conference room.

- "Oh honey, when you see a guy like that, you just can't help it."- Garcia smiled and sighed- "He was the sugar that got me going for the rest of the day."

- "It's only nine am."- JJ added, and Garcia just sighed.

- "That's how good it was."

The case was in Terra Mesa, New Mexico. A clearly angry Hotch announced wheels up in thirty, and we all headed back to our desk to gather our things.

- "Hey, I brought you back your copy of The Illustrated Man"- I walked to Spencer and handed him over his book- "Maybe after the case, we can get a coffee and talk about it."

- "Maybe not"- he grabbed it from my hands and put it on his satchel.

- "Why not?"

- "I don't feel like it."- Spencer avoided looking at me. He just closed his bag and walked away from me.

- "Hey! What did I do?"- I asked him and followed him, but he didn't even look at me.

- "Spencer, I'm talking to you!"

- "And as you can notice, I don't wanna talk to you."

His answer stopped me in my tracks and left me speechless. Spencer got into the elevator and pushed the button to close the door as fast as possible.

He had never acted like that with me. He had never talked to me like that. Shit! He had never been an asshole with me before. I had seen Reid being a jerk with people when he is mad, but he had never been like that with me. And all that just 'cos me, and the girls were a little unprofessional?

Apparently, Spencer was furious with me because during the whole investigation, he kept avoiding me. Of course, it didn't help that Hotch paired me with Reid and Morgan to talk to a young girl who had been abducted from the crime scene.

- "So, pretty girl, I saw you yesterday. Your eyes were shining when you talked to Sean"- Morgan started teasing me the second we got into the SUV.

- "I don't know what you are talking about."- I whispered and looked outside.

- "Oh please, you, Garcia, JJ, even Elle, the four girls were drooling over Hotchner's younger brother."

- "That's not true"- I denied right away- "We were all surprised. I had no idea Hotch had a brother."

And Spencer just snorted at my words.

- "What?"- I turned around and looked at him. He was sitting at the back seat, alone, arms crossed on his chest, avoiding eye contact.

- "Maybe you should stop talking about Hotch's hot brother and focus on the case."- his voice was cold and distant. I tried to read him, but all I could see was anger.

- "Ok, kid."- Morgan chuckled and shook his head - "No need to get all defensive."

- "I'm not defensive. I'm just saying we have to solve a case. People are dead, and you are still rambling about how hot Hotchner's brother is. We are not a fucking gossip show. Enough with it already."

I widened my eyes as I stared at him, bitter and angry. Not really a good combo. Spencer is one passive-aggressive asshole when he is mad, and you don't want to deal with him under those circumstances. Believe me.

But Derek just laughed and continued driving. He winked at me and pretended Spencer hadn't said anything hurtful or even evil. But, to be honest, Morgan looked composed and even amused. In fact, I'm pretty sure he was actually enjoying that awkward ride.

I wish I could tell you that was all Spencer did that day, but no. He actually exceeded himself in the art of being an asshole.

- "We are looking for a cult leader."- Reid started giving the profile to the police department- "Typically men between the age of 25 and 35"- he made a pause and looked at me.

- "What?"- I whispered, thinking maybe he wanted me to continue talking.

- "Nothing. I thought you were going to start giggling or sighing."- Elle and Morgan looked surprised as Gideon frowned, not getting Reid's comment.

- "Over a sociopath underachiever with an extremely abusive childhood?"- I asked him, as I continued describing the profile- "Why would I?"

- "I don't know."- he shrugged and continued walking around the office -"I thought after yesterday, it was going to be your usual behavior around men that age."

- "Reid"- Hotch's voice was cold and severe. Spencer looked at him and turned around to find an empty seat. Aaron continued giving the profile, and I turned to my best friend, enraged. I wasn't going to tolerate that passive-aggressive attitude.

- "Fuck you."- I mouthed and stared straight into his eyes.

Avoiding and ignoring Reid was a challenging task to achieve. Hotch was nice and wise enough to keep us apart for the rest of the day, but that didn't stop him from staring. And his eyes burned my skin each time we were together in the same room.

I made my best effort and avoided looking at him the whole time. But I felt him staring. And though I was honestly mad at him now, a part of me just wondered what on earth was he so upset about?

I found out the whole truth later that night, back at the hotel. I was already in bed, trying to forget about the case, 'cos it had already been solved, and we were supposed to go back home early the following day.

I was alone, 'cos my roommate Elle was in the hotel bar with JJ and Morgan. I didn't feel like going. I just wanted my pajamas and do nothing.

Fine, that's not what I wanted to do. I wanted to be with Reid, talking about The Illustrated man, or any other book, drinking coffee, making jokes, laughing.

But he was mad at me, and now I was mad at him too, which meant things weren't going to be smooth between us in a long while. We had only fought once before until that day. It happened when we first became friends, and we argued over some random Star Wars fact. He didn't admit he was wrong, and when I showed him I was right, he got all defensive and refused to talk to me for a whole week.

Of course, this time, it was going to be a hundred times worse.

I debated whether I should or shouldn't call Reid and yell at him when I heard someone knocking on my door. Of course, I thought it was Elle, so I dragged my weary body from the bed, arguing I had explicitly told her she had to bring her key when she left the room.

But no. It wasn't Elle. In the hall, looking like shit, I found Doctor Spencer Walter Reid.

It wasn't a good sign the way my heart skipped a beat the second I saw him. It didn't get any better when the two of us just stared at each other in silence for a moment, and I felt my whole body tremble only by his presence. I couldn't control it even if I wanted to. I loved him, and it was getting too hard to hide.

- "What are you doing here?"- I made sure my voice was as upset as possible and even made an extra effort to furrow my brows as I stared into his eyes. His look had softened, and you could tell he was nervous. He scratched his hair and fixed his nerdy glasses before speaking.

- "I needed... I wanted... I want to talk to you."- Spencer finally said and sighed, looking at me.

- "Why would I want to talk to you after you humiliated me in front of the whole police department?"

I spat each word and tried to slam the door on his face, but he stopped me before succeeding.

- "Wait, please, (Y/N)"- he pushed the door open and followed me inside the room.

- "Get out, Reid!"- I argued immediately, but he didn't listen. He actually closed the door behind his back and stood behind me. I refused to look at him, 'cos I knew what would happen if I did: I would forgive him too quickly.

- "(Y/N), I'm so sorry. I know I was an asshole. I didn't mean it. I was completely out of place."

Spencer literally vomited his speech in less than three seconds and stayed wordless and silent afterward. I crossed my arms on my chest and stayed still. I really didn't want to talk to him.

- "I'm sorry"- his voice was now a tiny whisper that somehow got inside my heart, melting the fortress I kept building against him.

- "Why did you do it?"- I asked the most straightforward question, but he didn't answer. Spencer stayed quiet for at least two minutes. So I turned around and faced him. His eyes were red, and he was fighting the tears back.

- "Why did you humiliate me, Spencer?"

- "I didn't mean to."

- "So? I don't care what you meant. You did it anyway. You fucking humiliated me in front of the team and in front of the whole police office, and why? 'Cos you were mad at me for being unprofessional? Excuse me, but I think what you did lacked more professionalism than anything I had ever done."

I knew it was a mistake. I knew I didn't have to look at Spencer while I spoke. But I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to cry either, but I was already too upset and way too tired, so the tears started falling down my cheeks. And his followed quickly.

- "I'm so sorry,"- he repeated and bit his lips, staring at me.

- "Why did you do it, Spencer?"- I asked him again, 'cos I still didn't know why he had hurt me so deeply.

- "I was wrong..."

- "Why did you do it?"

I asked for the third time, and my eyes got lost in his. Spencer was holding his breath and debating himself. I could almost hear his thoughts, 'cos it was clear he was overthinking everything going on inside his head.

But he didn't say anything. Spencer just wiped off a few tears that rolled down his cheeks and shook his head. The silence in the room was overwhelming, and all I managed to do was to sigh, disappointed and broken-hearted, and walk to the door and open it. I only wanted him to leave, but he didn't even move. He just looked at me, clenching his jaw, fighting the tears back.

- "I did it because I am in love with you."

Spencer whispered in the most anticlimactic way possible. I frowned, confused, as he didn't even move. I stared at his gestures, his face blood-red in a weird mix of embarrassment and anger.

- "I love you so much it's driving me insane, (Y/N). I've been trying to tell you how I feel for weeks, but I just..."- he ran his hands through his hair, openly frustrated with his own way to deal with the situation, as I just stayed still, trying to understand what was going on.

- "I know it was stupid, and I wish I could do it differently, but I didn't know what to do. But then I saw you looking at Sean, and I knew you would never look at me the same way, 'cos I know I'm not..."

There was no bigger force in the universe than the one that moved my body unconsciously against Spencer. I grabbed his face with both hands and planted a kiss on his lips to shut him up. I didn't even think about what I was doing. I just did it 'cos I didn't want to listen to his rambling anymore. For once, probably for the very first time ever since we met, I wanted to shut Spencer Reid up. And the best way I could do that was kissing him until my lips felt numb.

I didn't even let him hesitate. He jumped as soon as I touched him, but he didn't reject me at all. Instead, he wide opened his eyes and stared at me as I winked at him, deepening the kiss.

Spencer's hands slowly found their way to my waist and held me closer to him. His lips were soft and warm, moving carefully along with mine, and as he relaxed into the kiss, the better it got.

I had wasted so much time (mostly at work, bored, avoiding paperwork) fantasizing about kissing Spencer. How his lips would feel and taste. If he would make any noise, if he'd be rough or soft... and now there I was, getting all the answers I ever needed.

My heartbeat faster when I opened my eyes and saw him, deep concentrated into the endless kiss. My hands played with his hair, and I felt him hum, pleased with my movements. I couldn't help myself and smiled, not stopping the kiss.

- "What?"- Spencer asked, but his lips didn't move from mine. Neither of us wanted to stop.

- "Nothing,"- I whispered and shook my head softly- "I just like kissing you."

- "I like kissing you too,"- he answered and moved his hands from my waist to my cheeks and held my face. His hands were so big I could feel him covering most of my cheek. He made me feel secure, safe. Loved. All that only from cupping my face.

- "I love you."- Spencer whispered and opened his eyes. I looked at him and sighed, trying to keep myself together, when all I really wanted was to yell and jump and act like a teenager in love.

- "Me too."

That was all I managed to answer, though I knew he deserved better. He deserved to know how much I loved him, how crazy I was over everything he did. Everything he was. But I couldn't tell him that, not at that minute at least. That night I couldn't really speak much because all I wanted to do was to kiss him. I wanted to kiss Spencer Reid until my lips burned.

But he didn't let me fulfill my dream. As soon as he heard me, he stopped the kiss and stayed very, very still.

- "What happened?"- I panicked, I don't know why- "Did I overstep..."

- "You love me?"- he interrupted me, and his eyes filled with tears. Happy tears. His smile was soft and warm as he stared at me, waiting for an answer.

- "I do,"- I murmured and blushed. Was it too late to blush? Maybe, but I couldn't help it. Not when he was looking at me like that. Like I was the most beautiful woman on earth. No. Like I was the only woman on earth for him.

- "I'm so sorry..."

But I really didn't want to listen to his apology. I had already forgiven him. All I wanted was to kiss him again. And again.

I crushed my lips against his, and this time, I felt him smiling into the kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he locked his around my waist. We were so close I could feel the warmth of his body as he relaxed a little more, and his fingers started caressing the small on my back.

- "Come here."

I took a few steps back, and he followed, keeping as close to me as possible. Finally, I dragged him to my bed, and he laid by my side. Our legs were intertwined as we melted on that mattress, just kissing.

I honestly never imagined I would kiss Spencer. Maybe that's why I enjoyed it and tasted him (and the moment) in slow motion. He sighed and smiled as his lips and tongue played with mine. One of his hands held my waist as the other played with my hair.

It was heaven. I didn't imagine anything better than being on that bed kissing Spencer Reid. He whispered he loved me again, and I sighed. For a second, it felt I was in a dream.

- "Ok, mama, get out of that.... WHOO!"- Derek, JJ, and Elle stormed into the door and caught Spencer and I kissing on the bed. I felt like a teenager all over again.

- "What the..."- Elle asked was holding the key in her hands, eyes wide opened, in shock.

- "My man!"- Morgan was about to start clapping when JJ grabbed him and Elle's arm.

- "The guys need some privacy. Come on, let's go. You can sleep in my room, Elle"- JJ smiled and closed the door behind her back, but less than a second later, Derek walked in again.

- "Smile to Garcia!"- Derek waved, holding his phone. Spencer closed his eyes and covered his face, embarrassed as I grabbed a pillow and threw it over him.

- "Get the fuck out of my room!"- I shouted, and JJ had to pull Morgan's sleeve to get him out of there. Once the door was closed (again), we waited a few seconds in case Derek tried to interrupt us one more time. But he didn't. Spencer's cheeks were burning red, and he looked so embarrassed it was too sweet. So I leaned over him and kissed the tip of his nose.

- "Hi,"- I whispered and smiled. Reid chuckled and moved closer to me, reaching my lips.

- "Hi."- I sighed, strangely relieved to feel his lips on mine again. I was like my body had already gotten used to kissing him and wanted to do nothing else from that moment on.

- "Hi,"- I repeated and smiled.

- "Hi,"- Reid said again and wrapped his arms around me, moving me until I was sitting on his lap. Life was perfect.

- "I'm so glad Hotch's brother came to visit. He should come more often,"- I murmured and giggled. Spencer frowned and shook his head.

- "I think we are good."- he answered and narrowed his eyes.

- "If he hadn't come, you wouldn't have gotten so jealous, and we wouldn't be kissing right now."- I added, and rubbed his lips with mines, just to make a point. Spencer smiled and fully kissed me.

- "I will send him a muffin basket to George town, then."

- "That's very thoughtful. I love that about you."

- "I love everything about you,"- Spencer whispered and sighed, staring into my eyes.

- "Does this mean we are dating?"- I had to ask. Spencer wide opened his eyes and didn't move for a few seconds -"I'm just asking 'cos you said you loved m and I love you, and if you love and I love you, I'm pretty sure dating would the logical thing to do. But if you don't want to, I would totally understand. I mean, maybe I am assuming..."- Spencer's lips against mine ended with my senseless rambling, and he chuckled into the kiss.

- "What?"- I asked him but didn't move my lips from his. Already that might have become my favorite way to talk to him.

- "You are adorable when you ramble."

- "Shut up"- and Spencer smiled

- "Would you be my girlfriend?"- he simply asked and rested his forehead against mine as he stared at me. I smiled and sighed, pretending to be considering my options. I didn't have any. I wanted to be his.

- "Yes,"- I whispered and kissed him one more time- "I would love to, just promise me you will never be a passive-aggressive jerk with me."

- "Never"- Spencer kissed me, and his hands held me tighter- "I'm so sorry."

- "Just kiss me a few more times so I can properly forgive you"- Reid smiled and crushed his lips against mines.

- "Anything for you."

**

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @all-tings-diego

[baubabble]

“Diamonds and Dances” Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer used to date at the Academy. When you graduated, you broke it off. Later, when you are assigned to the BAU, old feelings resurface. When Hotch assigns the two of you to go undercover together at an event, how will those feelings evolve?

Word Count: 5258

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Cherry” by Harry Styles

Note: My first attempt at writing Spencer! Thank you for all the love on my Hotch series!

-------

“If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.”― Kahlil Gibran

The case had finally hit a dead end.

You and the rest of the team were sitting in the Los Angeles FBI Field Office, staring at the ceiling. Four couples had been brutally murdered at local events over the past sixth months and so far, the local agents had nothing. When Garcia was given the request for assistance, Hotch had taken the case immediately.

You had been at the BAU for more than a year now and you had never been this frustrated. You could tell that the more seasoned agents such as Morgan and Rossi were just as annoyed that no leads were surfacing as well.

Spinning lazily in your chair, your eyes fell on Reid as they usually did. Spencer Reid was the one that got away in more ways than one. You and the doctor had met at the Academy and instantly hit it off. The two of you had dated for almost a year before you had broken it off. Spencer was going to the BAU and you were going to sex crimes. It was just the way it had to be. You were happy to make a clean break rather than trying to tackle a complicated relationship.

That is until Strauss had requested you to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had been hesitant at first for many reasons. Then, Aaron Hotchner had called you personally and encouraged you to take the position. He was aware of your history with Reid and said he would do his best to make sure the environment was as professional as possible.

Which is how you found yourself at a crossroads with your current case. “I’m about to shove pencils in my eyes,” Garcia said from beside you. Penelope had been asked to join the team on this case due to the unsub’s signature at hacking into security systems and traffic cams.

“You too?” you asked, turning to her.

“My brain has never felt tired before,” Garcia said. “Is this normal?”

“I think we all need some rest, Baby Girl,” Derek said as he rolled over to Penelope and began massaging her shoulders. You watched the action with a hint of envy. There was too much going on inside your head for anything right now. Pushing back from the table, you stood up.

“I need some air,” you announced and headed out of the conference room. The team watched after you for a moment before returning to their work, except one member’s eyes remained fixed on your exit.

------

Spencer Reid was the best problem solver the team had.

He never had problems with finding the missing puzzle piece in the case or analyzing a criminal’s motives. However, there was one problem, he couldn’t quite crack.

You.

Reid had never gotten over your breakup. He sat awake for nights after you had broken it off trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He had confided in everyone he knew. His mother said that you just weren’t the right person for him, but Spencer disagreed. You were perfect for him, perfect for each other. He didn’t know what went wrong. One day the two of you had been smiling, laughing, and then it was like a switch had flipped and you just ended it.

Then when you had joined the BAU, hope reentered Spencer’s mind. Perhaps this was a chance to tell you how he felt and maybe even rekindle something from years before. However, those thoughts were quickly dismissed when he overheard a conversation you were having with Penelope about a man named Robbie, your new boyfriend.

Watching the way your face lit up when you spoke about the new man in your life felt like ice to his heart. He remembered when you used to look like that when you spoke about him and now it was reserved for someone else. Shortly after this, he had confided in JJ about the issue, finally expressing his thoughts to another member of the team.

“It’s been years, Spence,” JJ had told him, rubbing his back affectionately as he sat on her couch watching Henry play with a new toy Will had bought him. “It’s normal for people to move on.”

“But I haven’t,” Spencer had said. “I haven’t, JJ, and I don’t know if I can handle seeing her every day and knowing she’s with someone else.”

“Who knows,” JJ had said, “maybe the universe will be in your favor.”

“You know I don’t believe in any of that.”

“Maybe just this once you can,” JJ had said before squeezing his arm and then dropping the subject altogether.

------

You stood out on the terrace of the field office, listening to the bustling city around you.

You never liked Los Angeles. It wasn’t like DC, there were too many people, too many skyscrapers, and the grating sound of traffic always made you want to scream. When you were working in sex crimes, you would head to the roof when things got too complicated to try and clear your mind. Most of the time it would work, other times, such as now, would just make you more irritated.

“You know, I’m not sure the air in this city is the best for clearing your head,” Hotch said as he exited out onto the terrace. You smiled to yourself as you stared out at the City of Angels.

“Did Penelope tell you to check on me?” you asked as he joined you at the railing.

“Maybe,” Hotch said with a shrug. “Are you okay?”

“Just frustrated,” you explained. “It’s been a while since we’ve been at such a big roadblock.”

“I wasn’t referring to the case, (Y/N),” Hotch said with a knowing look. You sighed, turning to look at him. “I’ve noticed you’ve seemed out of sorts for the past couple of weeks.”

“Which means the rest of the team has too,” you figured.

“Maybe, but they won’t confront you about it.”

“But you will?” you asked, amused.

“I’m your boss, it’s my job,” Hotch said. You smiled at that. “I’ve just seen a change in you and I’m assuming it is to do with your personal life.”

“Isn’t it always?” you asked with a chuckle. “I’m okay, Hotch. Just going through the awkward phase that happens after a breakup.” Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Ah, you and your boyfriend ended things,” he realized.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially at work,” you said with a look that conveyed more than the words you were saying.

“I completely understand,” said Hotch. “On the brighter side, I think we may have an idea on how to draw the unsub out.”

“Am I going to like it?” you asked. Hotch grimaced. “I’ll take that as a no.”

-------

You were right, you definitely didn’t like it.

“Undercover?” you asked as you leaned against the wall of the conference room. Spencer sat in his chair across the room from you, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s the best idea we’ve been able to come up with,” Rossi said, “plus, with your work in sex crimes, you have the most undercover hours next to Emily.” You held your tongue before you could suggest why Emily just couldn’t do it. “You are the unsub’s type and so is Reid. If we are correct about the profile and where he is hitting next, the two of you should be the perfect lure.”

When Hotch and Rossi explained that you and Spencer would be going undercover as a married couple to the next charity event in hopes of finally catching Daniel Hill, the unsub, you were less than thrilled. This would not be your first time going undercover, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you would have to pretend to be married to Spencer and by the looks of it, he seemed even less than thrilled about the situation.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Hotch asked, glancing between you and Reid.

“No, Sir,” you said and Spencer shook his head.

“It may be a little bit awkward with (Y/N)’s boo,” Morgan joked and Penelope kicked him under the table. When you didn’t laugh, Derek realized what the look on your face meant. “Oh…(Y/L/N), I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing off the wall. “Robbie and I are done. It’s been done for a bit now and I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so none of us have to stay in this city any longer.”

“Amen to that,” Emily said.

“I’m going to send debrief packets to your hotel rooms,” Hotch said. “The event is tonight so I need you to be ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you and Spencer said at the same time. Hotch then dismissed the rest of you and you headed for the door, needing to get back to the hotel and start preparing for the evening. Spencer caught up to you as you walked through the office.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you to a stop, “are you going to be okay with this?”

“Yes, Spencer,” you said. “It’s our job and we’ll get it done.”

“I know, but we haven’t really worked closely together since you joined and to put on an undercover operation like this…” he trailed off, but you could tell what he was thinking. You always could.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything.”

“For the next ten hours or so, let’s not be (Y/N) and Spencer. I agree that we have never truly talked about what happened between us since I joined the team, but tonight is not the time. I want to, I do, but we need to get through this night. So, until we get this son of a bitch, we are just two agents on a mission. No baggage. Deal?” Spencer let out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled over your words. Eventually, he nodded.

“Deal.”

-----

The undercover packet had arrived just as you stepped out of the shower.

It was a basic cover. You and Spencer would be attending the event as Mr. and Mrs. Kelling, a wealthy couple from Maine. Your alias, Miranda Kelling, was nothing like you and that was how you preferred it. The more you could distance yourself from an undercover mission, the better. Spencer was playing Anderson Kelling and he was the president of a tech conglomerate that Garcia was writing up now. At least he would be able to cover for the both of you if anyone asked any questions.

A little bit later, a knock came at your door, and you were met with a smiling Penelope. In her hands was a white garment bag. “Please tell me it’s not pink,” you said as you let her in.”

“Oh, please,” Garcia scoffed. “You act as if I don’t know you at all. Undercover or not, I know you would never wear pink.” You laughed quietly as Garcia laid the bag out on the bed and unzipped it.

The dress was simple. A dark eggplant color that was low in the back and high at the neck. The slit was tasteful and knowing Garcia, it would fit you perfectly. However, while it was beautiful, your heart jumped just looking at it. The color of the gown was the same color as the dress you had worn on your first date with Spencer when he had taken you to a film festival. Whether Penelope knew that or not, didn’t matter. You knew it would matter to him.

“Do you like it?” Garcia asked. You nodded, unable to speak. “I can get something else if you don’t.”

“Penelope, it’s great,” you said, “really. Please tell me you have shoes to go with it.” Garcia then smiled and held up the other bag in her hands.

“Strappy or pumps?” she asked, shaking the bag before you. You gave in and laughed along with your friend as you let her accessorize you for the gala.

It was another hour before Garcia left to meet up with Morgan and JJ who were outfitting their security van that would be parked in the loading zone of the venue. The next time someone knocked on your door. You knew who it would be.

Pulling the door open, Spencer stood there with his hands in his pockets and his signature smile. You stepped aside and he entered, looking around the room awkwardly. “Did you read through the packet?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Twice,” you assured him. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I did my homework?” you asked, amusement in your eyes. He rolled his eyes and you could tell he was starting to loosen up a bit more.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same side for the cover,” he explained “And to give you this,” he said as he dug into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“Ah,” you said, realizing what it was. He handed it to you and you took it quickly, placing it down next to the necklace Garcia had brought for you to wear. You didn’t want to open it in front of Reid. Everything was already awkward enough. “So, Mr. Kelling,” you began, “tell me about your company.”

The two of you went back and forth asking questions about each other’s covers. Pretending to be other people was actually helping you talk to him. Thinking of him as this imaginary husband was much easier than staring into those warm brown eyes and seeing the man who once held you like you were the most important thing in the universe.

“You know,” Spencer said as he lay on his back on your bed, “Morgan was supposed to do this with you.”

“Derek? Undercover as a tech guy?” you asked with a laugh. Reid sat up and looked at you as you sat at the small table, your file in your hands. He smiled softly as you chuckled. “That would have been something to see.”

“Maybe next time,” Spencer said. “You know, once he’s had more time to prepare. Hotch asked me because I didn’t have to do any additional research. I would have said no, but we need to find this guy and since we’ve already gotten his accomplice, I just thought—”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off, “you’re running on fumes.” He took a breath. That was something you always said when he started rambling when he got nervous. It was also something he did when he was avoiding what he was actually saying.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, “but just for the record, I’m not upset you were assigned to do this mission with me.”

“You’re not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you said and it was the truth. In fact, you were just incredibly nervous about being this close to him for the first time in years. “So stop stressing. Everything is going to work out fine.” You got up and approached him. You gripped him by the shoulders and looked at him in the eye. “Now, go put on your tux so we can get this bastard.”

------

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror as you fussed with the gown.

Garcia sure did know how to pick ballgowns. The deep purple dress fit you perfectly. Paired with the nude heels and the light jewelry, you looked as expensive as Miranda Kelling was supposed to be. The large diamond sat on your left hand felt way too heavy. You lifted your hand to your face, tilting it so the diamond glittered in the low light.

When you had first lifted the lid to the box, your eyes had widened at the sheer size of the diamond. Apparently Rossi knew someone in LA with ties to a jeweler and you were renting the piece for the evening. Just placing it on your finger felt...wrong. And not just because of the price,  but because you imagined the first time you wore a wedding ring it would on your actual wedding day and not for a sting.

The thought of Spencer having a matching band on his left hand sent a thrill through you that you weren’t expecting. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it in the past. When the two of you were together at the academy, the subject of marriage had come up frequently. It was always said with a bout of laughter afterward. Neither of you had ever said anything to make the other think that you were being serious, but at times, you definitely were. Snapping out of your thoughts, you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and then headed for the door.

Stepping out into the lobby of the garish hotel, you spotted Rossi immediately. He was dressed as a chauffeur as he would be the one to take you and Reid to the event to keep up appearances. Walking around the corner, you finally saw your date for the evening. Spencer wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His hair was combed and his shoes shined in the glittering light of the chandelier that swung above him. Hearing the clicks of your heels, he turned towards you and his mouth fell open.

He quickly controlled his expression, but you had seen it. The look in his eyes as he beheld you strolling towards him. It was a familiar look, one he had given you in the past and everything began flooding back. You tried to ignore it as you joined him and Rossi. “This is all very ‘James Bond’,” you said, looking at the three of you.

“Well, just go easy on the martinis you two,” Rossi said with a small smile. Then from his pocket, he produced a white rose. “Morgan got the partner to talk and he agreed to help if we offered him a deal. He made the call and told Hill that the target this evening will be with a beautiful woman and wearing this on his jacket,” Rossi said as he tucked the rose into Spencer’s lapel.

“Great, nothing says ‘murder me’ like a rose,” Spencer muttered as he adjusted the flower. You smiled to yourself at his attempt at a joke. Rossi was watching both you, his eyes flickering back and forth.

“Just stick to the plan and this will all be over before you know it,” Rossi said as he gestured you out to the car. You and Reid followed him, neither of you saying anything. You had expected it to be awkward, but this felt...alien. It was also starting to become clear why Hotch had assigned you to this mission with Spencer. He most likely figured you wouldn’t have to do much acting, but seeing him dressed up and with that wedding band on his finger, you felt as if you were looking at a stranger. You had no idea how you were going to make it through the evening.

-----

Arriving at the venue, Rossi helped you from the car, giving your arm a final squeeze before leaving you in Spencer’s capable hands.

As Rossi drove away, Reid held out his arm to you. Slipping into the character of Miranda Kelling, you took his arm and smiled at him warmly. Spencer, or rather, Anderson, smiled back and led you into the venue.

The party was fit for Los Angeles. The garish decorations were shiny metallic and smartly dressed waiters milled around with flutes of champagne. The other patrons were dressed just as well as the two of you and as they laughed, more champagne was poured and more money was spent. You weren’t even sure what charity they were supporting at the event.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to pick up on any agents, but Hotch had said nobody was going to be on the floor except for the two of you. Hill was too smart and would pick them out in a heartbeat.

You and Spencer walked around the room, keeping close to one another. As a waiter passed by, you grabbed a flute off the tray and drank half in one go. The liquid courage did nothing to satiate the nerves that bubbled in your stomach. As you finished your drink, you looked for another, but Spencer had stepped in front of you, giving you a concerned look.

“What?” you asked, keeping your face pleasant in case the unsub or others were watching.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you aren’t thrilled to be with me tonight, but I can also tell that something else is bothering you.”

“Very perceptive,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “Look, I can’t talk to you about this right now.” He sighed and then took your hand. To anyone else, it would just look like a husband holding his wife’s hand, but you knew he was feeling for your pulse point. Something he always did when he wanted you to tell him the truth. It was both charming and infuriating.

“Is this about Robbie?” Spencer asked and your hand froze in his grip. He nodded to himself as he realized he had finally guessed right. “He never deserved you.” You took your hand back and tried to walk away. However, Spencer had another idea. Gently taking your wrist, Reid pulled you to the dance floor, spinning you into his arms.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you played along, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his right hand. The two of you swayed back and forth in silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. “You look so beautiful,” he said softly.

“Spencer,” you sighed, dropping your gaze to the buttons on his shirt, “please don’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why,” you said, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you as if you were the only person in the room and it took you back to the first time you had danced with him.

It was at an event the Academy hosted for the new recruits. The two of you had just met during orientation and he had been bold enough to ask you to dance when he noticed you sitting by yourself at a lone table. Both of you had been very awkward on your feet, but you had managed to get a rhythm going and among all the laughter and stepping on toes, it had been the first step in developing feelings for the man before you.

“I noticed the color of your dress as soon as you walked into the lobby,” Spencer said, his fingers curling tighter around your own. “I always did love you in purple.” Ducking your head, you rested your forehead against his chest, just trying not to think about his hand on your waist or the fact that he was wearing the same cologne he always did. The one that smelled like wood and parchment. Reid pulled you in closer, his hand moving to the small of your back.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to think about him,” Reid said, turning you both in a slow circle, “because I can’t do it anymore.” Pulling back, you looked up at him with curious eyes.

“Do what?” you asked.

“All those months when you were with him… seeing you smile when you and Garcia spoke about him or when he would drop flowers off for you at the office,” Spencer sighed. “I couldn’t handle it, (Y/N).” Hearing that confession slip from his lips made you stumble in your heels. He kept his hands tight on you, keeping you steady. Just as he always had. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Your eyes fell closed at his words and every emotion you had tried to shove down since the day the two of you had parted ways came surging back into the forefront of your mind. Spencer Reid was looking at you as if you hung the moon and while he would probably say something along the lines of ‘that’s impossible, a human wouldn’t be able to hang the moon’, that was what you saw in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember?” he continued.

“Spencer…” you said, but he couldn’t stop.

“My mom, (Y/N),” he said. “Don’t you remember how much she loves you? You were one of the only people who could keep her calm and she loved to tell you stories about the things she’s learned over the years. I remember everything about our time together.”

“You have an eidetic memory,” you reminded him.

“That’s not the reason I remember,” he said, placing his hand under your chin. You couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes at his words. At that moment, the mission was forgotten and everything was moving in slow motion. “Tell me, (Y/N),” he said, “tell me that you don’t love me, Tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t do that,” you whispered. A small gasp escaped him at your confession and it was as if his entire body relaxed at your words. Spencer leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, drinking you in. The orchestra in the background played a score fit for the moment and if you weren’t supposed to be on duty, you would have stayed in that moment forever. Spencer pulled back and glanced down at your lips, but before either of you could move in closer, you spotted a man watching the two of you.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

“Hill,” you whispered, plastering a fake smile on your face as you looked up at your fake husband. “He’s dressed as a caterer. The long scar on his cheek is just as the partner said. Looks like Morgan’s interrogation techniques are getting better.” Spencer took you and spun you around so he could get a visual, glancing briefly before grinning down at you. He then lifted your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we go somewhere more private, Mrs. Kelling?” he asked and you nodded, taking him by the hand and dragging him towards the service hall. Everything in you was fighting to stay focused as you slipped back into your FBI persona. With Spencer’s confession, work was the last thing you wanted to do, but this man had killed enough people and the two of you were the last chance to take him down.

You and Reid pushed into the hallway, giggling like drunk teenagers.

You stumbled on your dress and he held you up, pulling on his bow tie. It didn’t take long for the killer to follow. You and Spencer were pressed against a wall, Reid’s hands going into your hair. He smiled down at you and slinked away as if you were playing a game. When he went to follow you, that’s when you were grabbed from behind.

“Move and she dies,” Hill said, waving his gun around. Spencer raised his hands in mock surrender and then he looked at you. “On your knees!” Hill yelled, but Spencer didn’t move. With a quick nod to you, you slammed your stiletto into the top of his foot. A shot rang out as the bullet pierced the ceiling, but you both moved faster. Spencer grabbed hold of the unsub as you took the gun from his grasp. Reid spun Hill around and slammed him into the floor.

“FBI,” Spencer said, “Daniel Hill, you are under arrest for the murders of Caitlin and Adam Dever, Brooke and Ryan Wood, Joanne and James Black, and Greta and Lewis Joy…” as Spencer continued to read him his rights, you disabled the gun and let out a deep breath. From your right, Hotch and Prentiss came running down the hall, their guns were drawn. JJ and Morgan weren’t far behind.

As Spencer got Hill to his feet, you turned and walked away. There was too much going on inside your mind and you had to get air. Walking past, Morgan, you placed the confiscated gun into his hands as you continued to move past your team. You could hear Reid calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop moving. You just needed to think.

-----

Once everything had calmed down, you all went back to your respective hotel rooms.

As soon as your door closed behind you, your heels were off and you headed right for the balcony. Garcia had texted you earlier and told you Hill would be processed and that Rossi and Emily had gotten a full confession out of him and his partner. That was enough for you to relax a little bit further, but there was still the issue of what happened before.

Then, as if the universe was listening there was a knock on your door. Pulling the sliding door behind you, you went to your door. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Unlocking the chain, you pulled open the door and were met with Spencer. He was still wearing his disheveled tuxedo, but his hair was no longer neat. It was how he always wore, the way you loved it. In his hand was a single yellow lily, your favourite flower.

You stepped aside and invited him in, closing the door quietly behind you. “You just left,” he said as you turned to face him. His long fingers were holding the flower by its stem, twirling it around.

“I just needed time, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile and then offered you the flower. You took it, pressing its petals to your nose. “I know how you think (Y/N), which is why I waited a bit before showing up here.”

“You always did know me best,” you said as you lay the lily on the stand by the door.

“I still like to think I do,” he said, reaching for your hand. You let him take it as you had earlier on the dance floor. He dragged you towards him, placing his hands on your hips gently. “You are so incredible,” he whispered.

“I never cared about him as much as I cared for you, Spencer,” you admitted. “When I broke things off after we graduated from the Academy, I thought I was doing us a favor. I thought it would be too complicated, that we would struggle with the time apart. I was so wrong. I am so sorry that I didn’t believe in us enough to stay.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer was shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” he said. “I understand. I think I always did, but I meant what I said earlier: I never stopped loving you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“And you think I did?” you asked. “God, Spencer, I love you so much and I should have told you the moment I walked into the BAU.” Spencer’s face split into a grin and he didn’t even hesitate to pull you into him. His lips met yours and your hands wound into his unruly hair. Light burst behind your eyes as the two of you finally said hello once again. Spencer Reid was the one for you and you would never doubt that ever again.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”― Paulo Coelho

[winterscaptain]

dead man’s hand.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: our 52 pickup ajf episode! i dunno about yall, but i was so excited to get my hands on viper in this universe. he’s ridiculous, and i think he deserves to be absolutely put to shame by aaron “BDE” hotchner. 

a joyful future fic, but requires little context. 

words: 5k warnings: canon-typical misogyny, language, improper comm conduct, emily prentiss: lesbian icon™

summary: your first case back to full duties after your injury at the septarian ranch just had to take you undercover, didn’t it?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You’re happy to be back in your usual plane seat, just to the left of Aaron, with your notes in your lap. With your arm in the sling, you were relegated to the table, in Derek’s usual spot beside Rossi, to discourage you from slouching. It was Hotch who suggested it, of course, but that didn’t help your pride. 

Though your sling is gone and you’re back where you belong, your shoulder still twinges a little from time to time. 

As it happens, a twinge hits you right as Rossi asks, “How does our unsub go from loser of the year to Don Juan?”

While Spencer answers him, Hotch glances over at you. You wave him off. I’m fine, Hotch. 

He sighs and you both tune back in to Spencer. “...Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles and when -” Spencer looks at Hotch, finding something in his face that usually made you laugh, but stops Spencer in his tracks. “Th-That’s about it.” 

You suppress your smile as Hotch refocuses the group. “Something must have happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden, making him change his victimology.” 

“Could the unsub have known Vanessa?” Jordan’s question almost surprises you. She’s still settling in, but you’re learning she doesn’t hesitate to freely share her opinion. 

Hotch hesitates, as if waiting for someone else to answer. You oblige him, leaning around Dave a bit to see her better. “It’s unlikely.” 

Derek picks up your thought. “Yeah, sexual sadists attack anonymously”

“They have to sever a personal connection and see their victims as objects to perpetrate this level of torture.” Spencer softens your quick rebukes with a little closed-mouth smile. 

You spare a glance for Hotch and he raises his eyebrows for a split second before they drop back down. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and you press into him for a second. Be nice. 

He huffs a light breath through his nose as Prentiss and Rossi bounce off each other. I am being nice. 

Then, as though your silent sidebar never existed, he jumps back in. “The victimology is so different, we’ll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps.” He makes assignments, finally rounding out by assigning Derek, you, Jordan, and himself to the victim’s family. 

+++

Todd’s initiative continues to take you by surprise long after you land. She takes command of the situation at the precinct, and there are a couple of times where you can feel Hotch shift his weight. 

He’s uncomfortable. 

When Jordan leaves the room, you turn to the side and he leans in. “If you’re going to pull her, do it quietly. Something tells me she’s adverse to public criticism.” 

He nods, just a little, and you return to your former posture. 

The house is where things get really sticky. 

“Mrs. Holden,” she says, “we can’t begin to fathom the loss you’ve suffered.” 

You nudge Hotch with your shoulder (ouch) and he uncrosses his arms. Loosen up for a minute, would you?

“No, that’s right. You can’t.” Mrs. Holden’s tone is sharp, and you can’t help but feel for her - the stuff Garcia sent over was awful. A daughter, dead, and forums full of people saying you had it coming. Ugh. 

“But, um…” Jordan steps up, and you narrow your eyes a little. 

What is she doing? 

“I lost my older sister in a car crash.” You can feel Derek’s brow furrow as he checks in with Hotch. Aaron has yet to move and, as usual, his face gives nothing away to anyone except you. Something’s wrong. “And it was really hard on our family because she was the responsible one. She was the one that my mother always counted on to watch over us.” 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch’s profile, and you find his mouth a touch tighter, his eyes infinitesimally narrower.

Uh oh. 

We know that look. 

Again, what is she doing? 

“And when she died, my mother wouldn’t let the police in. If she didn’t let them in, then my sister wasn’t really dead.” Jordan leans in closer, as if her next words are a secret. “This man is a monster,” Aaron straightens with an inhale, and you feel yourself wind tighter and tighter as he does. You have no idea what you’re upset about yet, but you’re sure it's something. “...and we can catch him, but we need your daughter’s help.”

The mother turns on Derek in an outburst of pre-emptive anger. He very kindly de-escalates the situation, ever the voice of reason and empathy. Hotch takes another breath as Mrs. Holden turns to invite you further into the house. Jordan checks in with Derek before following her, almost smug. 

Aaron’s brows are drawn when you look at him again. Derek asks the question you’ve been waiting for. “Did you know that about Jordan?”

“No,” he says. “And neither did she. According to her file, she’s an only child.” Hotch walks away immediately, letting his implicit accusation hang in the air between you. 

You share a look with Derek. 

+++

“The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?”

You try to stay a little ahead of them, but Derek has no qualms about openly eavesdropping, turning over his shoulder. 

Her tone is matter-of-fact. “Some of it was online, and some of it was just an educated guess based on birth order.”

Still facing forward, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, as if bracing yourself for impact. 

“A guess.” Hotch’s question is flat and hardly a question at all. You almost cringe. Derek hops up beside you, much less interested in snooping now. 

Shit. You’re in it now, kid. 

‘Kid.’ Gimme a break she’s like...two years younger than you.

Yeah, but on this team, it’s dog years. The divorce alone had to be at least a decade.

“And in the process, you lied.” 

There it is. 

“That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport.” The note of defensiveness in Jordan’s tone pulls a sigh from you, and you can almost anticipate Hotch’s response. If pressed, you could recite it verbatim. 

“I don’t know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don’t make it a habit to lie to get the job done.” They stop walking, but you don’t, pulling Derek by the sleeve of his Henley before he can hesitate. 

“Let’s wait by the car,” you tell him. He gives you an expression that only says yikes. You reply with one of your own. 

As you approach the back door, you hear, “I got you in the door, didn’t I?” from Jordan.

Oh babe. Put the shovel down. This hole you’re digging for yourself is becoming unmanageable, and we’re all going to have to deal with his grumpy ass for the rest of the afternoon if you don’t quit. 

Derek leans against the door of the car, and you follow his lead, leaning against the back bumper. 

“Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team - ”

Ah, so it's the “representing the team with integrity” speech today.

 “ - to the press, the police, and to the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives. If you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears.” You inhale, sharp. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard that tone. “Do I make myself clear?” 

Yikes. 

Jordan, looking significantly chastised, answers, “It won’t happen again.” 

“No, it won’t.” 

Alright, that one pulls a smile from you and you do your best to bite back your laugh. Derek’s in the same boat. You both hope to recover by the time they get back to the car. A fit of giggles will do you absolutely no good at this point. 

“When we get back, I want you to prepare a press release about the unsub. Do not release it.” His phone rings, and he reaches for it, adding “From now on, everything goes through me.”

He passes you without meeting your eye, talking to Rossi over the phone. Jordan approaches you, and asks, “So how bad did I just screw up?”

You take a breath before answering. “Well, Derek would tell you on a normal scale of one to ten, probably about a six.” 

“I have a feeling that’s not the scale we’re using.”

You shake your head and open the door. “On Hotch’s, that was about an eleven.” 

The three of you slide into the car. You take the seat behind Derek, sparing Aaron from having Jordan in his peripheral vision while he’s trying to focus on not crashing the car. 

+++

“Hotch,” Emily says, getting your attention and Aaron’s. You both turn. “Of the self-described pickup artist classes in the area, there’s only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh..” she searches for a word for a second, “space cowboys.” 

A laugh escapes you, but you recover quickly. You glance at Hotch, an apology in your eyes.

Emily’s tone matches your mirth. “Are you ready to meet Viper?”

+++

The four of you lurk at the back of the room, listening to Viper’s sermon while trying not to laugh out loud again. 

“...and women, while they won’t admit it, want to be hunted. They need it.” 

You look up at Hotch. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

He doesn’t look at you, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away. 

You turn your attention back to Viper, who’s assertions are so far gone from reality you can’t even believe people paid for this. He goes on and on about the ideal mate, what women want, etc. etc. etc. 

This guy has never gotten laid in his life. 

Hotch nudges you with his shoulder as if he can hear you thinking, and you drop your eyebrows, setting your mouth in a tight line that could give him a run for his money. 

Emily’s losing it beside you, too. She and Derek have shared more than a few glances, and there’s no hiding the incredulous look on her face. 

“If you are smarter and more interesting, you will be a better predator -”

You keep your face from screwing up in a wince, but only just. Poor choice of words, there. 

“- because this is the jungle, my friends, and your prey wants to be caught.”

Derek doesn’t shift his gaze as he asks, quietly, “Would you listen to that language?”

You lean around Emily, whispering, “He’s training serial killers.” 

“Great,” Emily says. “We’re dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman.” 

Yeah, that about sums it up. 

You both look at Hotch, who’s still watching carefully. “Just one more thing he has in common with our unsub.” 

At the end of the lecture you all stay where you are: four dark and intimidating figures irresistible to someone with an ego as big as Viper’s.

When he inevitably advances on you, Aaron introduces the team present and explains the situation in an even, measured tone. He doesn’t have to change a single thing about his presentation for the Viper to size him up and compensate accordingly. He doesn’t even acknowledge you or Emily in his futile effort to make Aaron feel small, counting on his own peacocking to do the job. 

That was your first mistake.

“So you think this - what did you call him - unsub took my class?”

With one hand in his pocket and another on his belt, Aaron replies. “He copied your ‘the camera adds ten pounds’ routine verbatim.” 

Viper has the audacity to look pleased. “Yeah. That’s a good gag.”

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him,” Emily says. 

You nod. “Any information you can provide would be helpful.”

“No.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and Emily beats you to a response, her tone appalled. “No?”

He’s decidedly smug now. You’ve never seen a face so well-suited for a punch. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.” 

“We can come back with a warrant.” Aaron’s quick, flat rebuttal almost makes you smile. Viper ignores him, shifting his slimy attention to you.

You watch Viper take you in from head to toe, resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze. With a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and ever so slightly put more weight on your right foot, keying you in to Aaron. When Viper meets your gaze again, he looks more than a little annoyed. 

“Be my guest, but keep in mind, the money I make doesn’t just pay for my fabulous lifestyle,” he turns to Emily again, “it also keeps very expensive lawyers on retainer.”

You redirect, hoping to catch him off guard. “What club did you go to last night?”

It doesn’t work. He eyes you up and down again. It’s disgusting. 

“It’s a legitimate question,” Derek says. “You seem to know a lot about our investigation.”

He turns on Derek, and you settle in for the show. “Two things to learn about me. First, I outwit alpha males like you for fun and sometimes profit.” You snort, but he doesn’t spare a glance at you. “How often do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy?”

Aaron huffs a laugh, and it’s so quiet you’re almost sure you made it up. 

“Second,” he continues, turning to Emily again. “Last night, I was at Club Aqua and I have a stack of tax-deductible drink receipts to back up my story.” 

She shrugs, unimpressed. 

Emily Prentiss, you are my hero. 

You really tune in when his gaze finds Aaron, still standing a good two or three inches taller than Viper in far more expensive shoes. “Now, you might not want to believe that my style works.” You can tell Aaron’s trying to keep from smiling, his head tilted down at a condescending angle. “And here, in this harsh light, you have the advantage.” 

He has the advantage in every light. 

Shut up. 

It’s true, isn't it?

Viper steps up to you, uncomfortably close, and you do what you can to keep the grimace off your face. “But meet me on my turf…” He laughs a little and turns to Emily. It’s revolting. “The things I could make you do.”

The things Aaron could do on any turf, any time, any light -

Quit! Focus! 

Aaron steps between you and Viper. You gladly take advantage of the distance, moving just off Aaron’s shoulder. “If you have any questions, give us a call.” 

Viper’s eyes don’t move from Emily as he takes Aaron’s card. She sizes him up for a moment before turning around, still completely unimpressed. 

Down the hallway, she keeps pace with Hotch. “Please tell me we’re not giving up on that guy.” 

“We’re just getting started.” 

You can tell he’s irritated and tense, but there’s an air of smug amusement that colors his countenance. The lawyer has tricks up his sleeve, it seems. 

When you leave the building, you turn on Derek. 

“What the fuck was that?”

To everyone’s surprise, Aaron, putting his sunglasses on, answers. “Compensation.”

You try not to dwell on that implication for too long, barking a laugh with Emily.

+++

“Hey, Hotch.” You turn around, exposing your half-unzipped dress and bare upper back. “Can you zip me up?” He crosses the room and zips your dress, doing his best to avoid savoring the warmth of your skin under his fingers as he links the hook-and-eye closed. “Thanks.” You turn and he’s a little closer than you expected, looking at you with a peculiar, unreadable expression in his eyes. 

There’s silence for a moment and neither one of you moves. No matter how often it occurred, close proximity to Aaron always did weird things to your heart rate. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and return to the locker for a set of loud silver bracelets. 

“You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable with this, right?”

You clasp two of the bracelets around your wrist and turn back toward him. A little laugh leaves you. “I’m fine, Hotch.” You wordlessly hold your last two bracelets out, unable to secure them with your non-dominant hand. With a fond sigh, he crosses over to you and takes your wrist.

“Emily told me you’d both be alright and she’s handled people like this before, but this guy…” He trails off with a bit of sigh. 

“I’ve handled worse than him. Guys like Viper were a dime a dozen in college,” You shrug, watching him deftly handle the tiny clasps in his large hands. “Plus, you’ll be in my ear the whole time.” He reaches past you for your necklace and you turn around so he can put it on. He smells incredible and you can't help but close your eyes for a moment. 

“I have a good feeling we’ll be able to get somewhere tonight.”

You turn around again, smiling up at him. “I agree.” Thinking for just a second, you add, “Hotch, did you consider putting Jordan on this?”

“I did,” he says, his fingers reaching for the bridge of his nose. “Emily suggested it as well. I’m just not confident in her ability to complete surveillance in such a high-risk environment.” 

“Because of her mistake today?” You pass him and close the door to the room, ensuring the exclusion of prying eyes and ears. 

He removes his hand from his face and looks at you, playing at exhaustion. Of course.

You let all your breath out through your nose and you carry on as if you were explaining to a child. “She can’t recover if you don’t give her an opportunity.” You lighten up, adding, “Do you remember how many times I screwed up my first couple of months?” A wry smile crosses your face. 

He huffs and crosses his arms. “That’s different.” 

“Why? Because I was a NAT?” 

“No, you -” He takes a second to collect his thoughts, his brow furrowed. He gestures with a sharp, open hand as he speaks. “You made mistakes, but you never misrepresented yourself. I’m concerned about her conduct in the field.” 

“Send her out with us tonight.” Your appeal is casual, easy. “Emily and I will keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps her nose clean.” All things considered, Jordan isn’t much of an issue. She’s just green and (you’re sure) accustomed to a decidedly less-upright unit chief. 

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Of course. Give her a chance, Hotch. We’ll be fine.” 

He nods, ready to leave the room, but then looks down at your wrist with a small, almost amused, frown. “Is that…?”

“The Dead Man’s Hand? Yeah.” You turn your wrist, revealing a pair of eights and aces - both clubs and spades, with the queen of hearts between them - inlaid in the silver. “I figured it was appropriate, if not entirely tasteless.” 

“Clever.” 

+++

You can tell Jordan’s forgotten about the comm in her ear when she leans over and whispers, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You keep your eyes on the crowd, lips barely moving as you keep a demure smile on your face. A guy without a chance in hell catches your eye and you break him with just a quick softening of your eyes and a wider smile. Luckily, he’s so flustered he doesn’t think to approach you.

She takes a fake sip of her drink. “You and Hotch get along really well, and I haven’t managed to get on his good side once since I’ve been here. How do you do it?”

“I have no idea.” There’s a small crackle in your ear, and you know Aaron tuned into your private channel to hear you better and talk to you alone. For his benefit, you add, “I’m not sure he has a good side, if that helps.” 

You hear a scoff and have to hide your laugh in your drink. 

Jordan shakes her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“He definitely has a good side -” 

“Thank you,” Hotch says into your ear. You cough to hide another laugh. 

“- and you’re on it.” 

You open your mouth to reply, but catch the eye of someone who looks unfortunately familiar. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Hotch’s chuckle in your ear warms you, and you hear a crackle as he switches back to the team channel. “20 on Viper,” he says. “Keep an eye out for our unsub.” 

Emily wilts beside you, and you can’t help but laugh. You pull Jordan a little off to the side so you’re able to hear Viper, but he doesn’t feel closed in. “You always want to give guys like this an out - if they’re backed into a corner and feel trapped, they close off and get defensive.” 

A crackle in your ear. “Is that so?”

Jordan nods and you can’t reply to Hotch with any degree of subtlety, so you settle for rolling your eyes. 

“Well.” You hear Viper from over your shoulder. Jordan cringes, and your brow pulls in a question. “Lucky me.”

She answers, narrating through a squint. “He just put his finger in his mouth and pulled it out a little too slow.” 

“Ugh.” You take a fake sip of your drink. “I hate this guy.” 

“I thought you said you could handle him?” Aaron’s voice in your ear almost makes you jump, and you almost turn around to smack him before realizing he’s not even there. 

Bastard. 

Emily sends some sort of wisecrack flying over Viper’s head. She’s so charming, you can’t blame him for immediately falling head-over-dick for her. 

“...So, affection, sex, emotional committment, it’s all just for fun?”

Against your will, your thoughts wander. You’re still listening, tuned in to his linguistic profile - the pattern, the rhetoric, the cadence, sure - but your heart pulls when you hear Emily list those three things. A sigh leaves you and of course you’re thinking of Aaron. 

You’re such a child. Don’t be an idiot. 

“You okay?” 

Of course he’s asking. 

You turn away from Jordan, looking out on the rest of the club so you can answer. “I’m fine.” 

“Need a break?”

You are feeling a little boxed-in, and as long as he’s offering… “Yeah, actually. That would be great. I just need some air.” You turn back to Jordan. “I’ll be right back - stay with Emily.” 

“But wait,” she says, holding your arm with gentle fingers, “we shouldn’t split up.”

“I just need a minute outside, Jordan, I’ll be alright.” You smile at her, small and warm, and escape her grasp. Slipping out one of the side doors, you prop it with a doorstop and lean against the wall. Your eyes fall closed, and you take a minute to breathe in the cold air. 

You hear your name in your ear, and you yank your earwig out. It's still close enough for you to hear the team if anyone needed you, but Aaron’s voice in your ear at this very moment isn’t helping with the whole “take a minute” thing. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” 

I thought I took that damn thing out - oh. 

Aaron rounds the corner and leans on the wall beside you. “You okay?”

You nod. “Fine. My shoulder’s just bugging me a little.” 

“Any more lies you want to share before I call you on them?” 

“No.” In fairness, your shoulder was bothering you, but it wasn’t the thing bothering you. That thing, in fact, was standing beside you with his kevlar on, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I’m just out of shape, is all.” You tilt your head a little. “And my shoulder really does hurt.” 

He guides you off the wall so you’re standing in front of him, your back to him. “What have you been doing in PT?”

“Muscle work, mostly. Keeping things loose so it heals without limiting my mobility.” You roll your shoulder, ignoring the flood of pain that zings down your fingertips. 

Warm hands find their way to your shoulder over the fabric of your dress. You picked something long-sleeved and high-necked, figuring the angry scarring from your still-healing gunshot wound would adversely affect your objective. You take deep breaths as he works at the muscle, releasing the little knots that built up through the day. He finds a bit of scar tissue, and a little yelp leaves you before you can stop it. 

His hands soften, but don’t stop. “Hang in there. Just a little more and it’ll take some pressure off the nerve.” He trades his thumbs for the tips of his fingers, walking over the knots with a methodical practicality that pulls at your chest.

You nod, knowing he’s right. Lo and behold, a few seconds later, the knot releases, sending a flood of warmth, followed by pins and needles down your arm. You flex and contract your hand in and out of a fist a couple of times, hoping to rid yourself of the sensation. 

“It’ll stop in a second.” He rubs his hands together, warming them up with the friction before passing over the back of your shoulder with a firm, steady pressure, all the way down your arm to your fingers. The heat of his hands really does help - your nerves calm almost immediately, and you can feel your pinkie for the first time in days. 

A little laugh leaves you. “I dunno why I keep going to PT when you’re right here.” You turn and offer him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Feeling better?”

No. 

“Much.” 

He offers you a small smile in return. “Good.” 

+++

You’re changing back into your work clothes with Emily and Jordan, pleased to find them full of laughter. 

“When you asked him if he practices his routine on a sex doll, I almost lost it.” Jordan looks over her shoulder at Emily as she clips her holster back onto her belt. 

“I did lose it, are you kidding?” You laugh. “I can’t believe I missed it!” 

Emily shakes her head, smiling. “You know, as much as I hate what that guy stands for, I still read ‘five ways to get noticed’ in Cosmo magazine.”

“Because it makes sense.” You look at Jordan, waiting for an explanation. She redeemed herself tonight, and you’re actually looking forward to hearing what she has to say. Though she doesn’t explain what she means, she does thank you both for vouching for her. 

“Absolutely.” Emily looks past Jordan, at you, and you nod in agreement. 

“Of course.” 

A knock sounds, and Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “I need you all out here, the unsub’s kidnapped another victim.” 

Shit. 

+++

You’re on Aaron’s six, waiting for the go. He calls the first team into position and holds up his hand. When he drops it, you fall into step, just off his right shoulder. Derek breaches first, tackling the unsub to the floor. 

Aaron kicks down the front door, and you breach from the other side of the house. There’s shouting everywhere, but Aaron’s presence centers you, giving you a mission and a focus. 

Keep him safe. 

He releases you with a wave, and you drop down next to Spencer on the floor. You cut the tape holding Austin’s hands together. She falls into Spencer, still terrified and sobbing. He looks at you and you nod, spotting her as he helps her to her feet. 

Tracking back to Aaron, you shadow Rossi as they finish clearing the rest of the house. You hover by the final door as Dave and Aaron reassure the unsub’s mother that she’ll be taken care of as they clear the room for hidden threats. 

In fact, there’s nothing except a sick woman and the machine keeping her alive.

“It’s a dialysis pump...It was issued ten months ago.” Dave looks back at you, and your lips press into a thin line. 

You look at Aaron. “Our secondary trigger.” 

+++

Jordan climbs the stairs to Aaron’s office, and you attempt to hide your interest as she knocks on the door and steps in. Of course, you can’t hear them, but you watch him call her back after she hands in her report. 

You recognize the look on his face - it's an expression you’re rewarded with when you’ve done something right. In fairness, it doesn't look much different from the one you get when you’ve done something wrong, but you’ve learned to pick up on the subtle differences.

Jordan leaves his office with a little smile. When she passes you, you offer her a, “Well done,” as you stand and climb the stairs yourself. 

With a knock on Aaron’s door, he beckons you in without looking. You stand a respectable distance away from his desk, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s working on. He knows it’s you, and has no issue keeping you waiting.

The composition of his desk has changed in the months since the divorce. Haley no longer smiles at him from the frame by his pen cup. That frame sits on the low shelf by his law volumes, the white veil over Haley’s face unable to mask her joy even from across the room. 

There are more pictures of Jack than before, both old and new. 

Eventually, he looks up, and you hand him your report. A smile plays at your lips, and another dances around the corner of his eyes. 

“That was kind of you, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “You vouched for her work.” 

“Is that all it takes to win your approval, these days? My good word?” Your voice is laden with fond amusement. He rises to it, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he wasn’t smiling. When he answers, his tone is light, almost playful. 

“Yes.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower​ @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100​ @hotchslatte​ @risenfox ​@mrs-dr-reid​ @captain-christopher-pike​ @joemazzello-imagines​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @pan-pride-12​ @hotchlinebling​ @lee-rin-ah ​@sunshine-em​ @word-scribbless ​@jdougl-love​ @sageellsworth05​ @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky​ @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @emmasjulixn @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @slickdickwitchbitch @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf  @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo

[sunflowerspecter]

absolutely smitten/never let you go

summary: the team finds out about hotch’s secret girlfriend in a very interesting way. 

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, nothing too graphic and it’s very vague, swearing, literally so much fluff. 

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 4567

note: i just wanted to write soft hotch fic. that’s all. 

~~~oOo~~~

At first, you didn’t exactly understand. 

“They’re your family. I want to know every aspect of your life. You don’t have to keep me away from the gruesomeness of your job,” you had said softly. 

“It’s not that,” he said. He trusted you, one hundred percent, but so much of his life was already shared with his team. “It’s just that I kind of like seeing their faces when I tell them I have plans and then don’t tell them why.” 

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Is that so? Did you used to tell them before I came along?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I just didn’t have plans before you came along.” You kissed him, then shrugged. 

“I’ll be your little secret, then. Until you’re ready for me to meet them,” you said, and he thanked you, to which you shook your head. 

He shared you with Jack, at least, who was a little shy at first, but very quickly enamored with you. The boy was a sweetheart, and you spent many nights a week at the Hotchner’s residence. In fact, you spent most nights at Aaron’s. Most of your clothing and belongings were there, too. You hadn’t officially moved in with him, after thirteen months, but you rarely visited your apartment, except for when you remembered something you had stored there. 

You weren’t sure why you didn’t move in officially— you had no doubts in your mind that he wanted you, and that he loved you, or that you wanted and loved him, but you kept your apartment. Maybe you were waiting for him to officially ask you, or maybe you weren’t sure if you should ask him yourself, or maybe you felt you were crossing over some sort of line in your relationship, but for the time being, you would leave it. 

It was early in the morning when you woke up to the sound of Aaron’s phone ringing. You were curled against his body, and he reached over you to grab it off of the nightstand. 

“Hotchner,” he answered, sleep still in his voice, and you swear, it was probably the sexiest noise ever. One of his arms was still draped over your waist, his thumb brushing against you gently. He listened for a few moments, then said, “Alright, see you then.” You turned over in his arms, looking up and facing him. 

“What time is it?” 

He sighed. “5:30.” 

“Case?” He nodded reluctantly, so you leaned up and kissed him. “I’ll make coffee while you get ready.” 

“No,” he immediately said, grabbing your wrist gently, “go back to sleep.” 

You crawled out of his arms and out of bed, shaking your head. “I’m awake now, and I won’t be able to fall back asleep knowing you have to work.”

“Marry me,” he said, his entire body tensing after he said the words. You turned to him, your heart beating ten times faster. 

“What did you say?” 

He flushed, then stood, opening the nightstand drawer. He pulled something out and walked over to you, your stomach doing somersaults. He took your hands in one of his, holding a ring up with the other, and kneeled, saying, “Will you marry me?” You dropped down to your knees, kissing him, pushing your hands through his hair. He pulled back, and you noticed his eyes were watering. “Say something?” 

“Oh,” you said, smiling, “yes, Aaron, yes of course,” you said. “Of course I’ll marry you.” He broke out into a smile, kissing you again. “This means you probably have to tell the team now.” 

“Yes,” he said, then he shrugged. “After this case.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“I love you,” he said into your mouth. You smiled, taking a breath. 

“I love you, too,” you said. Then you sighed. “You have to be getting ready.” 

The smile dropped off of his face, but he nodded. “I’ll be home as soon as possible,” he said, and you smiled.  

“Now I’m actually going to make coffee.” 

You peaked into Jack’s room as you passed, wondering if Aaron had asked for. 

After you made coffee, you placed sticky note with a heart drawn on it on a granola bar and slipped it into Aaron’s go-bag. He always forgot to eat on cases. Whenever he got home from a case, you would ask if he was hungry, and he would freeze and nod, seemingly remembering that it was important to eat. 

You moved back to his room, grinning at him from the doorway. “I like that tie.” It was a red tie, he wore a red tie all the time, but you liked it. 

He smiled and walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “All of my ties are red.” 

“No, there’s that blue one you have,” you said, and he slipped his hands around your waist, kissing you with soft lips. “You’re going to be late for work.” You pulled back, but he shook his head, kissing you again, this time for longer, his tongue working in unison with yours. You only pulled back a few minutes later, shaking your head. “You’re actually going to be late,” you said. 

He nodded reluctantly, and you walked him to the door. “I love you. See you soon, Mrs. Hotchner,” he said, and you grinned like an idiot. 

“Fuck, I love you,” you said, closing your eyes as he kissed your forehead, and then he was gone. 

You checked the time on your way back to the bedroom, 6:15 in bright red letters blaring at you. You sighed, weighing your options. You probably wouldn’t fall asleep again, but you could lie there, staring at the ceiling, for a while, if you wanted. You could watch television and make breakfast, if you wanted to do something. There was something peaceful about that morning, where you decided to sit in the living room and read for a while, watching the room slowly fill with sunlight. Something so sure settled in your stomach, the fact that you would be marrying the love of your life. There was something about the adrenaline and dopamine still rushing through your veins from his proposal, mixed with the smell of the old book in your hands and the warmth of the room, that filled you with such a contentment. 

You decided to make pancakes for breakfast, and soon you heard little feet padding towards the kitchen. 

“Hey, buddy,” you said, and he smiled at you. 

“Is dad on a case?” the boy asked, and you sighed.

“Yes he is, but he’s going to be back home with us soon, so don’t you worry.” You set a plate in front of him, and he stared at the ring on your finger the entire time. 

A wide grin broke out on his face. “He finally asked you!” Jack said. 

You laughed. You should have known. “Yes he did,” you said. 

“Dad said I could call you mama, if you’re okay with it.” 

You grinned down at the little boy, then wrapped your arms around him. “Of course I’m okay with it.” 

“Since I don’t have school can I come to the store with you today?” he asked next, and you hummed, crossing your arms. 

“Well, I don’t see why not,” you said, grinning as he yelled with excitement. 

~~~oOo~~~

“Both women were at a bookstore the night they went missing, we should check it out,” Reid said. 

Hotch nodded, “What do we know about the place, Garcia?” 

“Um,” she said, and the clicking of her keyboard could be heard over the phone. “It’s owned by two women, Y/n Y/l/n and Phoebe Martin,” she said. “They both seem to check out, I can look deeper, though—” 

“That’s fine, Garcia,” Hotch said, shaking his head. He cursed under his breath, then looked up at his team. “Morgan and Reid, you’re with me. The rest of you stay here.” 

~~~oOo~~~

After settling Jack down in the children’s section of the small bookstore you owned, you walked over to the counter. 

“Hey, Y/n!” Phoebe, your co-owner and best friend, said from behind the counter. “How are you?” 

You smiled at her, “Well, I’m good, but you’re even better.” 

“I’m even better?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Please, do tell me whatever it is that you’re plotting before I go get the fire extinguisher.” 

“First of all,” you said, crossing your arms, “that was one time. Second of all, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that your best friend is getting married, so you finally get to help her plan the wedding.” 

The squeal following your statement was so high that a dog next door barked. “He proposed?” she asked, grabbing your hand. “Oh, my god, babe, you’re getting married!” She pulled you into her arms, holding you as tight as possible. “This is so exciting!” 

You then recounted the events of the morning to her, and you kept talking until Jack walked up to you, telling you how hungry he was. “Let’s go eat lunch, okay?” you said, taking his hand and leading him to the backroom, where you had packed lunch. You heard the bell on the door ring, and Phoebe saying hello to someone. 

“Aaron!” you heard her yell. “Are you here to see Y/n?” You patted Jack’s head and then walked out of the room, grinning as you saw your husband-to-be. 

“Aaron! I thought you were on a case?” you said, before you noticed the two men beside him; a thin man wearing a sweater-vest, currently scanning a book that he picked up from the shelf beside the counter, and the other, a muscled man wearing a grey t-shirt and a gun attached to hip, eyeing Aaron suspiciously. 

“He is,” Phoebe said, trying to suppress a laugh. You were in quite the sticky situation. Yes, you were now engaged to the man, but you still weren’t sure he wanted to tell his team. You narrow your eyes at her. 

“How can I help you, fellas?” you said, trying to meet Aaron’s gaze, but he was looking down at his hands. 

The one in the grey t-shirt waited for Aaron to speak, and when he didn’t, he spoke up, “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner and Doctor Spencer Reid, we’re with the FBI.” 

You didn’t take your eyes off of Aaron, who looked up at you and shrugged. “She knows,” he said quietly to Morgan, and then he said, “A woman went missing last night, Y/n, and this was her last known location. A woman who went missing two weeks ago last night was also here the night he went missing.” 

“Oh,” you said, and Phoebe sucked in a breath. “We were closed last night,” you said. 

“No,” Phoebe said, “last night was kid’s night, we had a local author here until 7.” 

You nodded, then. “Oh, damn, I forgot that was last night.” You took a breath. 

“She’s nervous,” Phoebe said. “She doesn’t do well with strangers.” 

Another glare at her, and then you continued. “Yeah,” you said. “Phoebe was here, until then, but that was it.”

“Can we ask you a few questions about the author?” Morgan asked. You and Phoebe nodded, giving each other a look. 

“His name is James Bryce,” Phoebe said.

“Does he come in often?” Reid asked. 

Phoebe took a step closer to you. “He’s come in every week for the past month.” 

“He writes children’s books,” you added, biting your lip as you felt your stomach drop. Was he their suspect? Aaron didn’t talk about cases very often, but you had read David Rossi’s books on profiling, and you knew that child predators would be close to children, but these were women. “Oh, god,” you said. 

“Did he take that woman?” Phoebe asked, and you looked at her, her face pale. 

“We don’t know that,” Morgan said. 

“I’m going to go check on Jack,” she said, moving to the backroom. You nodded at her, patting her shoulder as she passed you. 

“Who’s Jack?” Morgan asked. “Was he here last night? Would he have—” 

“He doesn’t work here,” you said, too quickly. You glanced at Aaron for just a second, then came up with the first lie you could think of, instead going the not-exactly-true-but-not-a-lie route, saying, “He’s my son.” Damnit. 

You could see Aaron smirking out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare look at him. The room was quiet for a moment, before Spencer decided to speak up. 

“That’s actually such a coincidence, Hotch’s son is also named Jack!” 

“Is it rare for people to name their kids Jack, pretty boy?” Morgan asked, and Spencer answered him, but you didn’t listen. Your eyes were focused on Aaron, who was staring right back at you. 

Meanwhile, Jack wandered out of the room. 

“Mama, can I color?” he asked, then looked up and saw his father. You caught him smiling, probably at the name that Jack had given you. “Daddy!” he said, and you watched as Aaron shifted from work-mode to dad-mode in a second. 

“Hey, buddy, how’s your day going?” he asked, and you looked up to Morgan and Reid, who were both wide-eyed. You kept your hands folded behind your back. 

“I’m good,” Jack said. “Are you on a case? Mama said you were.” He certainly had no problems calling you Mama instead of your name— you wondered how long ago he and Aaron had talked about it. 

Aaron sighed. “Yes, I am, but this case is in town, so I’ll be home tonight.” Jack nodded, and both of your boys looked up at you. You smiled down at them and Jack jumped over to you as Phoebe walked in from the back room. You put your hands on the little boy’s shoulders as he watched the adults. 

“Hold up,” Morgan said. “What’s happening here?” 

Spencer looked even more confused, but he didn’t say anything. 

Phoebe giggled, just a little, but you were too glad that the color had returned to her face and that she didn’t look a few seconds from crying to mind. 

Aaron looked to Morgan and Reid, then sighed. “I haven’t been completely open with the team,” he said. 

“You make it sound so grim,” you murmured, and he looked back at you. Not helping. You shrugged. 

Aaron was about to say something, but Morgan got a phone call. Reid turned to listen, and Aaron turned to you, his back to his team. 

“This isn’t how I expected them to find out,” you said quietly, giggling. Aaron shook his head. 

“This is fine,” he said, and you knew that he was trying to convince himself, not you. 

“So, I don’t know what’s happening here, but we have to go,” Morgan said. “We will be discussing this when we get back, though.” He opened his mouth to say more, but then his eyes found Jack, and he shook his head. “It’s bad.” Keeping one hand on Jack’s shoulder, you pulled Phoebe to you with your free arm, her face going pale again. Aaron nodded, then bent down to say goodbye to his son. 

He took a step, then looked back at you. “Go,” you said, and he nodded, following his team out. You looked down at the people beside you; Jack, on your leg, and Phoebe, curled under your arm. “Jack, how about you go show Phoebe your art skills?” He nodded, taking Phoebe’s hand, and she muttered a ‘Thank you’ to you. 

~~~oOo~~~

That night, Aaron came home and held you. You had put Jack to bed earlier, and were sitting at the table, waiting for him, and when you stood to greet him, he pulled you into his arms and didn’t let go. 

You waited a few minutes, reveling in the feeling of him, moving your hands over his shoulders, wrapping your arms around him, and then you asked, “What happened?” 

He just shook his head. 

You pulled back just a little to look at him, and his face was wet. “Honey,” you said. He shook his head again, taking a deep breath, but it didn’t help, and he broke down again, and you pulled him back towards you. 

A few minutes passed, but you weren’t in any hurry to move. “I’m sorry,” he said, untangling himself from you, taking steps backward. 

You moved forward, grabbing his hand and holding it to your chest. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. Nothing.” You shook your head. “You need sleep,” you said, lifting his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. He nodded, bleary-eyed, not putting up any sort of fight when you led him to your room. 

He didn’t say anything as you helped him out of his clothes and into pajamas, and he didn’t say anything when you tucked him into bed, and he didn’t say anything when you curled up next to him. 

“I love you,” you said. 

“I love you, too,” he said, turning to you. He reached for you and pulled you closer to his, tucking your head under his chin. 

“Sleep well, my love,” you said, and he hummed in response. You didn’t fall asleep until you heard his breathing even out, and you whispered his name once to make sure he was out until you allowed yourself to rest. 

~~~oOo~~~

It was a week later when the team was getting together at Rossi’s. Aaron said you should come, and meet everyone, especially because Morgan and Reid wouldn’t shut up. So, you were standing in front of Rossi’s door, Jack and Aaron on either side of you. 

Rossi answered the door, a smile on his face, until he saw you, and he raised an eyebrow. His gaze dropped to your hands: Aaron’s fingers were interlocked with yours, and Jack’s small hand was held in your other hand. 

“Storytime,” the man said, gesturing for you to come in. Jack immediately ran over to say hi to Henry, and you realized the entire team was already there. You recognized each and every one of them from photos, and you were pretty sure you knew all of their names. They all looked up to you, and Reid even waved. 

“Hi, everyone,” Aaron said, squeezing your hand. “This is Y/n.” 

“Hi,” you said quietly. 

After a moment, the team all smiled at you, and all introduced themselves. Penelope gave you a hug, and that’s when Spencer noticed the ring. 

“You’re engaged?” he said, and you blushed pink. 

The team went silent, and you were worried that they hated you. But then Emily laughed.

“Wait, so how long have you two been together?” JJ asked. 

“Thirteen months,” Aaron said. 

“He proposed last week,” you said, and the team all shared a look, and then Emily laughed again. 

“That’s why you’ve been nicer to me!” she said, punching his arm. Then she gave you a hug, and said in your ear, “He’s so uptight all the time. You’ve had a very positive affect. Thank you.” 

Morgan shook his head. “This explains so much about the bookstore.” 

“What bookstore?” Penelope said, and Morgan threw his arm around her as everyone began to settle on the couch. 

“The one we went to for the case last week. Ms. Y/n here works there,” he said. 

“I own the place,” you said, smirking, and Morgan flashed a smile at you. 

“So she’s accomplished,” he said, and you laughed. 

“I understand not telling the team,” Rossi said, “but what about me? Why didn’t you tell me?” You almost worried that he was hurt, but his tone suggested that he was kidding. 

“Because if you knew, then the team would catch on. Do you not remember your first week? When a few certain people—” a pointed look at Emily, Morgan, and Reid “—decided to raid your office?” 

“They couldn’t have raided my brain!” Rossi said, and Aaron tugged a little on your arm, pulling you towards the couch, where everyone was arranged haphazardly, Emily and JJ thrown over each other, leaning against Penelope’s knees. Will was sitting on the ground beside them, laughing (but if you looked closely, you could see that he was holding JJ’s hand. You hoped that would be you and Aaron when you were married). Morgan was sitting beside Penelope, and was also practically thrown over Reid. Children. The actual children, Henry and Jack, were sitting beside Will, who was entertaining them with a toy truck. 

“Aren’t you profilers?” you said, and Rossi sighed, shaking his head. 

“Can we watch a Disney movie?” Penelope asked, and you looked over to see that she had the remote. 

There was a unanimous yes that went around the room. You ended up watching the Aristocrats. You curled yourself into Aaron, your head on his shoulder, your legs draped casually over his lap, his arm around your shoulders. At some point, JJ had untangled herself from Emily and was curled against Will, so halfway through the movie, Emily found herself lying beside you, her head in your lap. You almost laughed at her, but just smiled, because these people already felt like your family. 

By the end of the movie, most of the team was asleep, and your heart went out to the poor, sleep-deprived BAU. You untangled yourself, seeing that you and Will were the only ones awake. You found a blanket and threw it at him, and he promptly began covering those in proximity. You looked around, finding a few other blankets, and throwing them onto your friends. Jack woke up, and Will pointed him to you. 

“Hey, bud, everyone’s asleep,” you said. He nodded, and you picked him up. He settled his head on your shoulder. You sat back in between Emily and Aaron carefully, letting Jack lie half on you and half on his father. He drifted off rather quickly, and you held him in place with your arm as you set your head on Aaron’s shoulder, kissing his cheek. 

“I love you,” he murmured quietly, and you smiled. 

“I love you too, babe,” you replied. “I’m glad I met your friends.” You looked down at Emily, who was curled up in a ball next to you, and then Morgan and Penelope, their heads resting together, and Spencer, laying on the floor with his head on Morgan’s knee, and Rossi, asleep in the arm chair, and JJ and Will, asleep with Henry between them. 

“I’m glad they met you, too,” he said, and you kissed him, running your free hand through his hair, eliciting a soft noise from him. His eyes were closed, and you could tell he was exhausted. 

“Sleep, my love,” you said, and he wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer to him. 

“We’re all going to wake up sore,” he said, but he moved so that his head was resting on top of yours. 

“But at least you’ll have slept,” you said. He hummed, and you smiled. He was so soft, when he was tired. He was soft around you, most of the time, but especially when he was tired. He was right, though. Most of the team would wake up and regret falling asleep. You had half a heart to wake them up; Rossi had so many spare bedrooms. But there was something comforting about this family, that you had only met a couple of hours ago, surrounding you. 

So you didn’t do anything but lie there, holding the man you loved and his��your—son in your arms. 

~~~oOo~~~

Maybe he was a little bit right, because you did, in fact, wake up sore. You blinked your eyes open to find Morgan and JJ talking quietly from their positions, Rossi nowhere to be found, and the rest of the team asleep. Jack and Henry were sitting at the table together, racing cars. You could tell JJ and Morgan had told them to be quiet. 

“Hey,” you said, sitting up from your slumped position. Aaron’s arm slipped off your shoulder to your waist, and you realized he was still asleep. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him as happy as he is now since Jack was born,” Morgan said, looking at you. 

You smiled, and then looked down at the sleeping man. 

“I just can’t believe he kept you from us for thirteen months!” JJ exclaimed quietly. She shook her head. 

“And how long did you keep Will from us?” Morgan said, raising an eyebrow at her. She frowned, and you laughed. 

“There’s definitely a story there,” you said as Rossi finally reappeared from the kitchen, where he must have been. 

“If you three will kindly wake up our sleepy friends, I made breakfast,” he said, motioning for Jack and Henry to go into the kitchen, which they did. Morgan took Penelope and Spencer under his care, shaking them both gently awake. JJ had already woken Will up, so you turned to Aaron. Part of you felt bad for waking him, but another part of you was hungry, so you shook his shoulder gently and kissed his cheek. 

“Hey, love,” you whispered in his ear until he was stirring. He hummed, his arm tightening around you as he gained consciousness. 

“Hi,” he mumbled before his eyes were open, and then he sat up, glancing around. “What time is it?” 

“Like, 9:30,” Morgan said, and Aaron huffed out a laugh. 

“Where’s Jack?” was his next question, looking over his shoulder. His demeanor was calm, and you could tell he wasn’t panicked, because he knew if something was wrong, you would be panicked as well, but there was a certain unease to his tone. 

“With Dave, in the kitchen,” you said. He nodded, then grinned at you, pressing his lips to yours slowly. You could feel the eyes of the half-asleep team on you, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

“I’m going to go say good morning to him,” he said, and you nodded, turning to the group as he left. 

Penelope, who was now fully awake, was making heart-eyes at you. “You guys are so cute!” she said, and you blushed. “He looks ten years younger when he’s around you.” 

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond to that, but you looked to the entrance of the kitchen, thinking about him. You hadn’t known any other side of him. Sure, you saw the changes between work-him and home-him, but you hardly ever saw work-him. When he was with you, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. 

Emily woke up, then, blinking rapidly for a few moments. “This is a comfortable couch, but you guys are never letting me sleep like that again. Everything hurts.” You laughed, and she grumbled, saying something about getting coffee before leaving the room. The group of you decided to follow, even as Spencer was still asleep. 

“Pretty boy doesn’t get enough sleep, anyway,” Morgan said, and you just nodded. In the kitchen, you found Aaron standing and talking to Rossi by the island. Henry and Jack were eating pancakes at the table a few feet away. You stood beside Aaron and he automatically slipped an arm around your waist. 

“Honestly, we’re supposed to be profilers. How did we not see this?” Emily said, nodding towards you. 

“I’m mostly surprised Spencer and Derek didn’t bring it up,” you said. 

“We were confused,” Morgan explained. “Our boss's son was calling some woman we had never met ‘mama.’” 

“And you didn’t think to tell the rest of us so we may figure it out with you?” Rossi said, and you all laughed. 

“I think we’re ignoring one important detail,” Penelope said. Everyone glanced at her, and she sighed. “They’re getting married! When’s the wedding?” 

You let out a breath and laughed. “He only proposed last week, we still have to decide.” 

“Sooner, rather than later, I hope,” Aaron said, and you grinned up at him. 

Sooner rather than later indeed.

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed or if i forgot you): @quillvine @winterscaptain @agenthotchner @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @andreasworlsboring101

[authenticcadence18]

Assuming everything about the AYA set-up is the same except the boys don't clue Phineas in on Isabella's crush on him, how do you think it would have gone?

ok now THIS is an interesting proposition.

So even if the boys don’t tell Phineas about Isabella’s crush, they still discuss how she’s heading off to Tri-State State (since in this scenario, everything else is the same). This likely makes Phineas start thinking about how much he likes and misses her.

THEN, I think Isabella still goes to Phineas’s house to say goodbye (since her subplot isn’t affected by Phineas learning about her crush until they start talking). Phineas is at home to open the door, since he wouldn’t have had a reason to leave. They still end up outside on the steps and chat for a bit, discussing how Isa is leaving soon and maybe reminiscing on summers gone by.

At this point, Isabella decides to reveal her feelings to Phineas in as casual a way as possible to get them off her chest so she can move on, something like: “...you know? it’s kinda silly but...when we were kids, I had a big crush on you. ....awkward, right?”

And she looks at him, prepared to laugh it off without giving away that her feelings are still there....but he’s just looking at her in a way she’s never seen him look at her before: wide-eyed, awestruck, SHOCKED. Phineas admits that he also has feelings for her (though he figured that out later than Isabella did). And then their conversation proceeds as it does in the episode—Phineas decides to go to school with Isabella and they start a relationship—but this time, there aren’t any friends around to interrupt them. SO, after deciding to go to Tri-State State together, they lean in...aaand then they both get text messages from their friends telling them they need to go to Isabella’s backyard.

As far as the “let’s get phineas and isabella together”! subplot goes (since the former Fireside Girls still come up with a plan and text the guys about it in this scenario), they set up the dinner date in Isabella’s backyard instead (with permission from Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro). That way, Phineas can stay in his house (with Ferb, probably) so he doesn’t find out what they’re doing. He and Isabella get together on the steps of his house, then they cross the street after getting texts from their friends. THEN they see the date, realize it’s for them, and crack up because they’re already together!! Isabella is able to say goodbye to her friends, and then everyone but she and Phineas conveniently take their exit. Phineas follows Isabella back to her car, and we get them hugging and saying “see ya!” “In two weeks.” And then, before Isa gets in her car, Phineas asks her to wait and then pulls her into a kiss so THEY GET TO KISS IN FRONT OF HIS HOUSE AND NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF A RANDOM STREET. And then the rest of the episode proceeds as normal (minus the Ferb and Vanessa stuff because it wouldn’t be necessary and I am not a fan✌️)

So TDLR: they still get together in this scenario, it just happens a little differently!

(This has been sitting in my drafts for days, I finally pulled it up and finished it😂)

EDIT: I assume that the guys already know Phineas has feelings for Isabella at this point, even if he never tells them outright as he does in the actual episode. When the girls come up with a plan to get the two of them together, the guys are just like, “...sure! Why not?”

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 14: The Test Results - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

Day 14: The Test Results - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia 

Todays story was requested by @itspdameronthings​. Thank you so much for the request and I really hope you like it. This is the longest of all the stories I have written for the November Writing Challenge.

November Writing Challenge Masterlist 

Day 13: Water Flowed- Llewyn Davis 

Day 1 

“Do you have to go?” Your voice is quiet as you watch him pack his bags from your seat on the bed. 

“Querida, you know I don’t want to but they are asking me back as a favor AND I’m being compensated. I worked in Columbia for three years, it's where my mother was born. I feel like I need to do this,” he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his own. “It’s only four months and I promise I will call and text you every single day. It’s killing me to leave you but...I feel I have to do this.” 

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was a former member of Delta Force in the US Military before leaving to go work for the DEA in Columbia. Three years ago, he left Columbia to return home but not without one final mission. He got together a few of his old buddies from the force and robbed a drug lord before killing him and fleeing the country. But something went wrong. Well… a lot of shit went wrong, resulting in the death of his old captain, Tom, and forcing them to leave millions of dollars off the side of a cliff buried in the snow. 

Santiago had accepted a temporary assignment with the DEA to return back to Columbia and train some new recruits. You were not one bit okay with this plan but the one thing you loved and also kind of hated about your husband was how headstrong he could be. Unfortunately, you are just as stubborn as him. The last few weeks leading up to his departure had been fraught with arguments. You didn’t want him to go. Even though it had been years since that last mission, you didn’t know what the situation down there was. Were they still hunting for the men who had robbed and gunned down Lorea? Was he walking into a trap? No money was worth losing the man you loved, and he didn’t seem to understand that. 

“You don’t have to do anything.” The words are bitter on your tongue and Santiago winces, before moving to stand. “We don’t need that money, and you have no idea what you walking into baby…” 

“Y/N, we have talked about this enough. I am going!” He slams the top of his suitcase closed before pulling the zipper harshly and walking towards the door. He turns sharply at the door pointing at you, “Why do you keep arguing with me about this? I have told you a million reasons why I need to do this! Instead of supporting me you're just fighting with me!” 

“I do support yo-” 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.” he swings his backpack on his back, puts on his hat and walks out the door. You’re on your feet in a hurry. “Goddamnit, Santiago! Will you just fucking listen to me for two minutes?”  You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. He’s fuming and you can tell the volcano is seconds away from blowing. “I DO support you! I understand WHY you feel the need to do this but I LOVE YOU and I don’t want to LOSE YOU!” 

You're out of breath from shouting, and you see the anger slowly fade from his face as he comes to stand closer to you, “Querida...baby you're not going to lose me. I love you….so … damn … much. I never really felt alive until I met you, and no one,” he puts a finger under your chin and raises your eyes to his own, “no one is going to take me away from you.” 

“You can’t promise that…” Your words come out broken and a choked sob escapes you. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. Santi I can’t lose you. I won’t survive without you…” 

“Shhh.” He pulls you close and you collapse in a sobbing heap into his chest, your tears soaking the front of his t-shirt, his hands are strong as he holds you close. “I know nothing is one hundred percent but I love you and I am going to come home back to you. Nothing could ever keep me away.” He pulls you away from his chest, wiping your eyes before kissing you gently.

“I love you too Santi, so much.” You sigh into the kiss and hold him tight before he pulls away, walking towards the door, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor and walking out, taking your heart with him. 

Day 31 

Santiago kept good on his promise and called and texted every single day, each time letting you know he was safe and how much he loved you. He was working hard down there, and he loved the adventure, even if he missed you like crazy. You missed him too and the combination of being without your husband, taking care of the whole house, your shared basset hound, and work was draining. It was only a matter of time before you started feeling under the weather. You had been feeling fatigued, sore throat, cough, and after two days of vomiting throughout the day you had to admit it, you were sick. 

On your nightly call with Santi the worry in his voice warmed your heart. “Baby, you need to go to the doctor and get checked. Remember when you got bronchitis last year? It was pretty bad.” 

You hack into the receiver “Yeah, maybe you're right. I just feel like shit Nauseous all day long. Jonathon actually sent me home today. Said he was worried about me ‘infecting’ the office.” 

Santi mutters under his breath but you hear him and snort. “Yeah I agree he is a dick, but I appreciate being sent home. I’ll go to the urgent care tomorrow.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yes, I promise. I want to feel better...I just hate going to the doctor.” You recall the many times Santi had to drag you kicking and screaming (sometimes literally) to the doctor. 

“Why don’t you ask one of the guys to go with you?” 

“Maybe...Frankie mentioned he was off tomorrow when I called him yesterday....” 

“See. It was meant to be. Why don’t you text him after you hang up with me and he will make sure you go? Then I can rest easy tonight knowing you’re ok. I wish it were me though. I would take such good care of you baby.” 

“Oh yeah?” What would you do if you were here?” You snuggle down into the comforter with your box of tissues, hot tea, the humidifier and his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep. 

It doesn’t take long before your soft snores fill the phone and Santi smiles to himself. Listening to the sounds of his love finally feeling at rest. When you wake up three hours later to throw up the light from your phone signifies a message. 

I called Frankie, he’s going to come by at 10 o’clock to take you for an appointment. I booked it online through the app. Get some rest and drink lots of fluids. I love you. - Hubby 

You smile before brushing your teeth and crawling back into the warmth of your bed and falling back to sleep, dreaming of your husband. 

Day 32 

The next morning Frankie rings the doorbell at exactly 9:45.Like all the other Delta Force guys (except Benny), they are meticulously early. You greet him with a cup of coffee with his own special airplane shaped mug, complete with his name engraved on the side. You knew that when you married Santiago, Frankie came as part of the package. 

“Hi Garcia, how ya feeling?” He wraps one arm around your shoulder and you lean into the embrace, placing your head on his arm. 

“To be completely honest Cat? I feel like shit.” 

Frankie lets out a small laugh before rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Well then let’s get you to the doctor. You got your insurance card?” 

“Yeah it’s in my bag.” You grab your brown knit bag, swinging it over your shoulder. 

“Then let’s get going.” He guides you out to his truck, helping you into the seat before running around the front to the driver's seat. 

About twenty minutes later you're pulling into the parking lot of your doctor. Frankie walks you inside helping you get signed in. It's another thirty minutes before you're put back into a room, sitting on crinkled tissue paper, Frankie reading back issues of People. The door opens and you sit up a little straighter. 

“Mrs. Garcia?” You nod. “I’m Dr. Jacobs. What can I help you with today?” 

You proceed to tell her what’s been going on and she goes through the motions, asking you all about your symptoms, checking your ears, nose, throat, and chest. When she's done she types everything into her tablet, “one more question, when was your last menstrual cycle?” 

You open your mouth to answer before closing it slowly. “When was my last...Oh. Uhm,” you laugh nervously at a loss for words, “about a month ago it should be starting any day now…” 

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks, looking between you and Frankie. 

“Oh, he’s not my husband!” 

“I’m her husband's best friend. He’s out of the country.” 

“Well it sounds like you may have the flu but I would like to run some labs as well if that’s alright with you, and maybe a pregnancy test just to be sure?” 

You laugh. “Sure doc whatever you need, but I am not pregnant.” 

Day 35 

You swing your car haphazardly into the driveway narrowly missing a planter box and running over Mia’s pink bike. The front door slams open. Frankie is running down the driveway, yanking the car door open and pulling you into his arms. Your sobs are staining your cheeks and you're a blubbering mess. 

“Garcia! What the hell! Are you ok!?” Frankie checks you over. You shake your head frantically. 

“NO! No I am not ok!” you shout! “The test results came back!” 

“Oh god, is it bad!? Cancer? Diabetes? Fuck! Did Pope give you some kind of STD because I swear I will kick his ass for you!” 

“NO! God...no...I'm...Pregnant!” You break down in sobs and hold onto Frankie who starts to laugh. “Stop laughing! This is serious! Frankie!!” 

He chuckles squeezing you tighter, “Garcia this is wonderful! You're gonna be a mom and Santiago is going to be a daddy! Mia will have someone to play with. Fuck, I’m so happy for you guys.” You pull away to see a huge smile on his face. 

Some of his excitement rubs off on you and you rub your nose on the sleeve of your shirt before you smile, “I’m gonna be a mommy…oh shit Frankie what do I tell Santi?

“We will worry about that later. But right now let’s get you home and back to bed. You still have that cough and you need your rest.” 

Day 36 

“Hey baby. How is my favorite man?” 

“Oh Querida I miss you so much. I think I forgot how much I love being out in the field. The rush, the thrill. It’s addicting.” 

Your heart drops and for a minute you say nothing. How the hell could you tell him about the baby? He would want to come straight home and he’s loving the work.

“Everything is great here. Yeah, I got the test results yesterday from the lab and everything is normal. I just have the flu and since I’ve been off the last few days I’ve rested and drank lots of fluids and I am feeling much better.” 

“Oh good, I was so worried about you.” He sighs. “I got a new app on my phone that counts down to the second till I get to be back with you.. I love you so much Querida.” 

You bite your lip to keep from crying before letting out a shaky breath, “I love you too baby, and I can’t wait to see you soon.” 

The conversation shifts and when you hang up with your husband you shoot a quick text off to Frankie. 

Don’t mention ANYTHING about the pregnancy to Santiago. I’ll tell him when he gets home. 

What? Why? 

He loves being there and if we're going to have a baby then he's not going to be able to do this again. If I tell him you know he will just come home early. 

Ok...I still think you should tell him. You're going to need support though...he’s still going to be gone for three more months. 

Your right...Frankie...will you be my person? 

... of course. Get some sleep Garcia. 

Day 100 

Four months doesn’t seem like a long time. But when you're pregnant and missing your husband it seems like a lifetime. It had been one hundred days since Santi had left for South America and only twenty-two more days till he came home. When you did the math in your head you had become pregnant two weeks before Santi had left. Meaning you were well on your way to being a very noticeable pregnant woman. 

You had been shopping a couple times with Benny to Motherhood Maternity store to get some bigger clothes because yours refused to fit. Also a very interesting trip to Babies-R-Us where after much convincing he did not purchase the entire store for his future niece/nephew. Will had been attending your doctor and lab appointments with you. And sweet Frankie had been helping you around the house, getting groceries when you were too tired, keeping up the yard, and taking you and your dogs for walks to keep you moving. Your husband’s brothers had become your own, and you loved them for it. Only 22 more days. 

Day 120 

You're sitting at the kitchen table doing a puzzle with Will when Frankie comes in carrying takeout and a squirming Mia. He puts her down and she rushes toward you. 

“TIA GARCIA!” she screams, launching herself into your arms. 

“MIA!” you shout, squeezing her tightly before tickling her sides. She giggles before shimmying out of your lap and running to the kitchen. Coming back a moment later carefully balancing (at least as careful as a three year old can) a plate filled with watermelon to you. 

“Papa says this is for the baby,” she tells you in what could be called an attempted whisper but more like a shout. 

“Why are you whispering Mia?” 

“Papa says that I have guts to be quiet because the baby is sleeping.” She leans forward and hugs your slightly protruding belly before climbing into the kitchen chair across from you. 

You give Frankie an amused look and he smiles with a shrug before plating out the food. Pizza for them and watermelon for you. It’s all you seem to want anymore. “Oh come to mama.” You spear a piece before placing it in your mouth, moaning as the cold sweet juice goes down your throat. 

“So I’m taking you to the airport on Friday to pick up Santiago. Any ideas on how you're going to tell him?” Frankie asks, taking a large bite of pizza. 

“Well I think he’s going to know.” You gesture to your stomach, spearing another piece of melon. 

“I’ve been looking up ideas on how to tell people you're pregnant, and you could give him a jar of pasta sauce,” Will says and you all look at him like he’s nuts, “No, hear me out it’s Prego pasta sauce...get it, Prego?” 

You groan before taking another bite, “I think he’s going to notice I’m pregnant before I can even give him a jar of pasta sauce Will.” 

“Not if he doesn’t see your stomach first…” Frankie says, “what if you made a sign?” 

“A sign?” 

“Yeah like when we used to come home from a tour and the families would have signs. You could make a sign!” 

You think about it for a minute before you fall in love with the idea. You go to the office and come back with a couple poster boards you kept for work presentations. You place one in front of Mia who squeals and grabs one of the markers you provide. You get to work outlining the words and filling them in with his favorite colors blue and red. When completed, you lift it up and show it to the others.

“That’s perfect!” Frankie beams. 

“Bet you 50 bucks he cries,” Will says. 

“Deal,” they slap hands and you glare, before smiling at the two. Only two more days. 

Day 122 - Santiago Comes Home 

You feel sick, what if he doesn’t want to have a baby? Will he be mad I kept this from him? Shit, maybe this was a terrible idea. What the hell was I thinking? 

“Garcia, you need to calm down, you're making me stressed.” 

“What if he doesn’t want this? What if he is disappointed? What if-” Frankie stands up and puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Garcia listened to me. Santiago loves you more than anything in this entire world and he is going to love this baby just as much maybe even more. He may be surprised yeah but trust me. Once he wraps his brain around it, he’s going to be ecstatic.” He pulls you in for a hug and you take a deep breath, calming your nerves. 

The constant flow of travelers does nothing to lessen your anxiety. You take a deep breath and almost choke on the smell of espresso from the nearby Starbucks. Frankie gives you one last squeeze before handing you the sign and stepping back as people flood out of the gate. 

You rise to your tiptoes in search for a familiar head of salt and pepper curls. When in a break of the crowd you see him, running in a full sprint towards you. His face split into a megawatt smile. As he gets close enough to touch, you hold up the sign. He slows down slightly as he reads and you watch the smile fade only slightly before it’s replaced by shock. 

Welcome home daddy 

He reaches forward, holding tight to the poster board and slowly lowering it, eyes transfixed at your swollen belly. Silence. His hands shake as they put the sign on the floor, his eyes never leaving you. Your heart races and you feel the urge to vomit return again before he drops to his knees. 

You wince, “Baby, your knees…” reaching down to pull him up, but he makes no move to stand, his hands coming to your stomach. Placing his lips gently over your shirt. His forehead rests against you and tears drench your shirt. The baby chooses that moment to make their presence known kicking softly against his cheek. You run your hands through his curls and he looks up at you with a watery smile and a small laugh. 

“Querida, you’re pregnant. We’re...we’re having a baby…” he sniffles and you can’t help the tears in your own eyes. “Why...why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home…”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. You’ve been so happy these past few months and I knew you needed to do this. Yes, I was scared as hell about losing you but...I understood.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers before shakily getting to his feet and clutching you tight, his hands frame your face and he pulls you close getting lost in the kiss, “I love you...so fucking much,” he whispers putting his forehead against your own. “I love you too. I’m so glad your home… I mean the guys have been great but I’m excited to go shopping for baby stuff with you, attend my doctor appointments together, and have you bring me platefuls of watermelon.” 

He laughs pulling back, “Watermelon? Is that what you’ve been craving?” 

“Oh god yes, even talking about it makes my mouth water.” 

“If that is what you want Querida, then you can have as much as you desire,” he kisses you again. 

A cough sounds from behind and you turn to see Frankie smiling at you.  Santi reaches out to give him a slap on the back, the two conversing in Spanish. You hold your hand out and Santi latches on, never letting go as you make your way through the terminal and out to the truck. 

The world passes by in a kaleidoscope of color as Frankie drives you both home. Arriving, you thank him before leading Santi by the hand and into the house. When the door is latched behind you, he presses you into the door gently. Every touch, every caress, left you breathless. His lips warm and wet against your own. When you take a breath his tongue snakes inside and he drags you from the door, striping each other, leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom. 

After you’ve been thoroughly fucked and your wrapped up in Santiago’s strong arms, legs intertwined together, and he’s rubbing your belly do you finally relax. Sighing into his chest, and kissing it lightly. “Your really happy about the baby?” you whisper, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. 

His grip around you tightens, “I promise you, I am very happy about the baby. You made me a daddy Querida. I love you...so much.” 

You sigh, “I love you too.” 

3 months later 

Eight months of pregnancy has flown by. After Santi got home from Columbia he took over doing everything. Attending your appointments together, buying and building things for the nursery, and bringing you platefuls of watermelon at all times of the day and night. Santiago takes the roll of daddy very seriously. All of those year in the military have come into play the last few months as he has transformed your house into a fortress. God help anyone that tries to hurt you or your unborn daughter. 

It started small with a few extra cameras on the perimeter, then installing a new indoor security system. A new fence was put up around the pool two months ago, and most recently the baby monitors set up throughout the house. He was beginning to drive you a little insane and you honestly just wanted him to lay off a bit. The perfect opportunity arose one fateful morning during breakfast. 

“So I’ve been thinking Querida, how do you feel about putting carpet on the floor of the nursery?” 

Part 2: Carpet (If you haven’t read it, check it out!)

Day 15: Just Walk Away- Ezra (Prospect) 

[leo-gold-hotchner]

Happy Birthday to You

It’s late, it should’ve been up on 2nd Nov, but I couldn’t. Urg. I wanted to be fluffy, but not sure if I succeeded it. 

Just a side talk, if anyone reading this having a hard time because of who they are, always remember there’re people supporting you! That includes me! Don’t let others judge you, you’re a lovely person, remember that.

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner X Male Reader

Words: 2.8k

I Kissed a boy AU!

You felt like a jellyfish. A powerless jellyfish wondering in the ocean waves, wherever your destination is, it depends on the wave. You didn’t even have strength to lift your finger when you returned this morning from your shift. 

Halloween night was fun, you could spend your time together with Aaron and Jack two nights ago. And yesterday, they left, and you readied for your night shift and it finished just now. 

You weren’t sure if it was because a day after Halloween, but it sure had many 911 calls. You didn’t shower or changed your clothes, you just stared at the high ceiling of your house. 

                                                        -Hotch-

In distant, you heard your phone ringing. You must have fallen asleep. You just wanted to sleep, not to be bothered, but what if it was from your work? What if it was Aaron? 

“Gods,” you groaned and pushed yourself heavily from sofa. What time was it? “Hello?” You answered the call without checking who called you. 

“Oh, is this Mr. F/N L/N?” It was a woman’s voice, her voice so vibrant and even you being tired managed to smile. Though, you wondered if this was a scam call. “I’m Penelope Garcia and I work with the FBI.” 

FBI. Okay, FBI. Ef… Huh? 

“Ef, FBI, you say?” You stuttered out at the mention of FBI. Wasn’t that the bureau that investigates criminal staff? Why were they calling you? Did one of last night patients has something to do with crimes? 

“Yep, and I work with Aaron Hotchner!” Not knowing your worry, the woman cheerfully mentioned your boyfriend’s name. 

“Aaron? You work with Aaron?” You felt stupid to keep asking her, but you had to be sure. And you were still groggy from sleep. 

“Yes, so I thought you could help us with a surprise party to him.” 

“Why surprise party?” You stood where you were with a dumbfounded face. 

“Why, of course, it’s Hotch’s birthday today!” Your brain just stopped working. “With you and Jack there, I believe Hotch’ll love it! Hello? Are you still there?” 

“Yes, yes, I’m here.” Oh shit. You didn’t know it was Aaron’s birthday today. They talked all staff, but it seemed they failed to mention respective birthday. Like you didn’t know his, you bet Aaron didn’t know yours too. 

“Where are you having this surprise party, Ms. Garcia?” 

“It’s just Penelope to you, Mr. Hotch’s boyfriend! You could come to his apartment now, if you can!” 

                                                       -Hotch-

You sighed as you looked up at the light brown apartment in front of you. Nothing to worry about, right? Penelope works with Aaron, she must be or she wouldn’t know your number. Now think of it, how did she find out? Anyway, you pressed Aaron’s house number and a woman’s voice asked if you were F/N. It was a different voice from before, it was not Penelope. 

“Yes?” 

“Come in, just press the floor when you get into the lift!” Guess the women around Aaron were all cheerful. 

You drummed your fingers on your side as the lift goes up. You didn’t know anyone who Aaron worked with and you were anxious if you’d give them a bad impression of yourself. Before you could knock on the dark brown door, the door abruptly opened and a muscular man stared at you. 

“Hey, you must be F/N!” The man gave you a wide grin showing his white teeth. 

“F/N!” Jack’s voice squealed behind the man. 

As the man moved to the side, the boy flew into your embrace. It was wonder how a child can like you as if he knew you for a long time. You and Jack only met on Halloween day, which was two days ago. And you were proud that you were friendly enough to make Jack instantly take a liking to you. 

“Hey, buddy.” 

“Aunt Pen said you gonna help Daddy’s birthday party!” Jack’s big eyes shined with excitement. Good to know Ms. Penelope Garcia wasn’t a scam but a real FBI agent. “This is Uncle Derek,” Jack pointed the muscular man who held his hand to greet you. 

“Derek Morgan. Just Derek or Morgan’s fine.” You and he shook hands, and wow, his grip was strong. 

“Aunt Pen’s not here, she’s maybe with Aunt Jess?” Jack looked around with a puzzled expression in your arms. 

“I believe they are.” Derek led you to another room, passing through the kitchen. “Baby girl, he’s here.” 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” The very familiar voice echoed the house, burying Derek’s chuckling with her voice. “You are here!” The woman, Penelope, looked at you with widened eyes, her arms stretched towards you as if she wasn’t expecting you to turn up. 

“Hi,” you gave her a little hesitant smile, but nonetheless a genuine one. “I’m F/N, you called me before?” 

“Yes, yes, that was me. I’m Penelope, I work with Hotch. He’s our boss,” she pointed herself and Derek. “And, and, this,” she dragged another woman who smiled at you, “is Jessica, Jack’s beautiful aunt.” 

“Hello, how’re you,” Jessica shook your hand, giving you a welcoming smile. 

“Surprised, but good.” You shrugged, your brain still processing a bit. You didn’t know Aaron had a sister, perhaps you should ask about it later. 

“Others are coming later, for now they’re occupying Hotch so he won’t know anything.” Penelope said as she picked up a box full of birthday party supplies and decorations. 

“You know,” you let Jack go as he wanted to decorate the house with them. “He once told me you guys aren’t really professional when it comes to surprising him or pranking him.” You scratched back of your head, smiling at Penelope’s shocked face. 

“But he won’t know today,” Derek barked a loud laughter. “That usually happens because Baby girl here give it away.” 

“I do keep secretes very well, mister!” Penelope gave her friend a mocking indignant face. 

“If you say so,” Jessica smirked as she exited the room with colourful ‘Happy Birthday’ banner. 

“How many are coming?” You asked as you helped them unpacking several boxes and decorate the room. You wouldn’t know anyone, but you thought you could be conversational. 

“Well,” Penelope folded her fingers, “except us we have, Rossi, Spencer, Emily, JJ and probably Henry and Will.” 

“Are they all…?” 

“We all work together. Well, Henry’s JJ’s son and Will’s Henry’s dad. But we’ve worked with Will once too, so you could say that.” Penelope laughed wholeheartedly. “He doesn’t talk about his work, is he?” 

“No,” you shook your head a little. 

You never asked him about his work, and he didn’t utter a word about his work too when he was with you. You just thought he’d be too tired and knowing the nature of Aaron’s work, you never thought about asking it. Jessica returned to the room to look for more decoration, she probably heard their conversation. 

“Does he take his work and do it while you’re with him?” Jessica asked, her arms hugging her torso. 

Your head unconsciously titled to the side. “No?” Was that important? 

Penelope cheerfully talked about taking some box to Derek and left Jessica and you alone. And she didn’t forget to shut the door, and you didn’t know why. You felt uncomfortable, feeling like you’re suddenly interrogated by Aaron’s sister. 

“He doesn’t want you to leave him.” Jessica smiled at you, riddling you with her words. She laughed a bit as she saw your puzzled look. “He used to bring his work to home, that made Haley mad sometimes.” 

You heard that name before. Aaron told you his wife and he dated since their high school, though unfortunate accident took her away from him and Jack. He never told you the details, and you didn’t ask him. The excruciating pain was palpable on Aaron’s face, so you didn’t want him to remember the painful memory by telling you. You never pushed him for more. 

“Because he’s busy, we can’t really have a proper conversation and we’re always with Jack so you know.” Jessica smiled ghostly. “But whenever he talks about you, his eyes lit up in spirit. He returns to the Aaron I used to know before everything.” She gave you a knowing smile. “I know talking these staff can be uncomfortable for you, especially talking about Haley. But like my sister made Aaron happy, you make him happy.” Oh, Jessica was not Aaron’s sister, but sister-in-law. “You’re not substituting Haley, mind you.” She sighed. “I want him to be happy.” Not just a sister-in-law, Jessica was truly Aaron’s sister, wishing his happiness. 

“I want him to be happy, too.” Both of you just looked at each other for a moment. “Isn’t it, you know, weird?” She looked at you questioningly. “Aaron suddenly bringing a boyfriend? It’s not normal isn’t it?” You didn’t know you were scrubbing the side of your pants due to anxiety. 

“You mean Aaron being bisexual?” She titled her head questioningly. “Oh, yeah, I was surprised when he told me he has a boyfriend, but it’s not weird. You make Aaron happy, that makes Jack happy. And that makes me happy and his friends happy. Everyone’s happy, it’s not weird or strange at all. It’s just natural for you and Aaron love each other.” 

You couldn’t help but tears pooling. In fact, you never asked Aaron about his family or friends because you were scared. You just buried questions deep inside so you wouldn’t be attacked by bigotry comments. 

Suddenly she pulled you into a big hug. “Don’t worry, you’re a perfect normal man. No one should judge you or Aaron because of your sexual orientation. I’m glad both of you can be honest with me.” Jessica laughed as she patted your shoulder. “Even though we met just today. Now let’s decorate more before Aaron storms in.” 

                                                       -Hotch-

Hotch rubbed his eyes, the writings on the report just leaving as soon as they come into his brain. He couldn’t concentrate, the Sun was saying its good-bye to another day. He had to concentrate in order to return to his son as soon as possible. Then his phone beeped and he frowned as he picked up the phone. 

‘Hey, bro, happy birthday.’ 

It was Sean. He was surprised his little brother actually texted him on his birthday. Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he reread the text. Sean actually never calls him ‘bro’ or ‘brother’ unless it was a rare occasion. And it was a first time in years he called Aaron ‘bro’ even in a text message. 

 ‘M not sorry to not giving any present to a birthday boy.’ Another message from Sean, with a laughing yellow face in the end. 

‘You could always call me. But thank you.’ Before sending the text, Aaron wondered if his text was too… well, stiff? He threw his head to the headrest. He could be, no, should be more friendly with his little brother. He quickly deleted his text. 

‘Visit me anytime soon and that can be my present, brother.’ Sean didn’t like to be called ‘little’ brother, so no ‘little brother’. It’s not a perfect text, but he tried. 

He nearly jumped in a start after sending the text when JJ opened his door. Thank gods his face didn’t show any emotion. “Hotch, you need to go home. Everyone went home already.” JJ shook her head.

“Let me just finish this report.” 

“That can wait, but not your birthday,” the blonde agent squinted her eyes disapprovingly. “Have time with Jack, he’s probably waiting for you to say ‘happy birthday dad’.” 

The Unit Chief quickly closed his mouth, he couldn’t say anything. “You’re right.” Hotch sighed. “So everyone’s gone, already?” 

“Yeah, said they can always finish their paperwork tomorrow,” she rolled her eyes. 

“We’ll see to that,” Hotch snorted. Not even Dave will get away from the paperwork tomorrow. “Well, good night, JJ.” 

“Night, Hotch.” JJ smiled at him and left the office. 

                                                       -Hotch-

Aaron stared at the apartment building where his home was. He could see the light through the window, Jack probably waiting for him with Jessica. He looked down at his phone once again, as he did for every one minute since Sean texted him. You didn’t text him or call him. Of course nothing as you had a night shift and you were probably sleeping. And he never told you about his birthday being today. Receiving a ‘happy birthday’ text from Sean made him happy, so it’d make him happier if you texted him or called him to say ‘happy birthday’. But that was his fault, he never mentioned. Why didn’t he do that? 

He groaned as he roughly brushed down his face before entering the building. He was tired, but happy to see his son from this long day. It’d be a best day if he could see you along with Jack. Yesterday and the day before were the best days he had for some years. Spending time with Jack and you, waking up next to you, having breakfast with you and Jack. 

Unlike the last time from his office, this time he couldn’t control his emotion when everyone yelled ‘surprise’ under the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner in his apartment. His mouth didn’t even close from wonder. 

Jack dashed to him, holding a birthday card. “Happy birthday, Daddy!” Aaron held his son and kissed on Jack’s crown. 

“Hey, buddy, what’s this?” 

“It’s a surprise party, Daddy.” Jack gave him the ‘don’t be silly’ face. 

The crowd came to him, each of them chanting ‘happy birthday’ to him, and among them you were there. Just like when he saw his son, his eyes brightened at your presence. You were bashfully smiling at you, standing next to Morgan and Reid. 

Everyone started to give him the presents, starting from Jack. Even little Henry gave his Uncle Aaron a little drawing with a bright smile. When it was your turn, you just shrugged and said ‘later’. Though Aaron could see distress in your eyes.

                                                       -Hotch-

It was wonder how his small apartment was having this many guests, and one by one they started to fall asleep from drinking too much wine. Both boys were already crawled into Jack’s bed, and the adults were just loosened up at his home. Perhaps they could’ve just planned his surprise part at Dave’s house. 

Aaron didn’t even expect his mentor all drunken and sleeping on his study chair. Prentiss shoved herself into the sofa where Reid fainted happily with red face. Morgan protectively hugging Garcia while his back leaned on the sofa, while his head hung on Garcia’s crown. Will just like Morgan, his back on the sofa but letting JJ on his thighs and crouched on his chest. He won’t wake his friends, they will whine about their back and neck being stiff, but never going to wake them up and make them do all the paperworks for hiding this from him. 

“I know that look,” Jessica scoffed from behind. “You gonna make them pay for planning this.” 

“Am I?” Aaron smirked at his sister-in-law. 

“Be lenient on them, it was Jack’s idea.” He blinked in surprise. “Of course, the adults were more enthusiastic than Jack.” She cleaned the kitchen and packed her bag. 

“You can use my bed.” Aaron suggested. 

“I have to go, I have to work on some staff before going to bed. And you have your boyfriend to care.” She gave him an accusing finger. He looked around, and he couldn’t find you. “I didn’t drink any wine and I brought my car. Don’t worry about me, Aaron.” She held the door open wide, giving him a familial smile. “I’m glad you have friends to support you. Good night Aaron, see you tomorrow.” 

“Good night, Jessica.” Aaron gave her a thankful smile. 

                                                       -Hotch-

When he entered his room to find you, you were on his bed, yawning while swinging your legs slowly. 

You held your arms up when you saw him. “You never told me today’s your birthday, so I’m mad.” Aaron chuckled as he looked at your fake angry face. Your eyes starting to lose focus as sleepiness kicking in you rather fast. “Hey, don’t laugh,” you threw one of his pillows to his way, but Aaron skilfully avoided it. “I’m serious. I didn’t have any time to prepare present for you.” You pouted, not realising you were acting like a child. 

Aaron quietly sat next to you, his strong arm wrapping your side. “You being here is my present.” 

“No,” you replied in slur before giving a big yawn. “I’ll always be here for you, so it can’t be a present.” Aaron’s chest swelled in happiness, his heart running over the hill. But you didn’t notice Aaron’s very very happy smile because you leaned on his broad chest, eyes closed. “I want something special, something that reminds me wherever you’re,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes. Aaron couldn’t comprehend anything after that, you were both mumbling and slurring and soon falling asleep in his arm. 

“Trust me, F/N. I’ve got the best present ever today.” Aaron whispered to his sleeping boyfriend, pleasant smile plastered on his face.

[agentsoftie]

Sleepless Nights ( S.R )

summary: Reid and Y/N aren’t the most fond of each other. So what happens when they can’t sleep, have to share a bed, and be married.

pairing: Spencer Reid and female reader

a/n: AHH okay so here it is! It’s my first au so it’s probably not the best. But big thanks to @anepiphany! Ani baby none of this would be happening without you! Thank you for you tips and making me not go insane! Also pls tell me if I slept something wrong cuz like, your girl not the best when it comes to it. Also there will def be a loophole somewhere in my case and if you find one, just let it slide because life is filled with loopholes ❤️ also this is gonna be a two parter!

warnings: mentions of a case, little angst (like the smallest amount), fluff really though

remember to like and reblog!!

You were always the type of person that got along with everyone. And by everyone you meant everyone. You were a people pleaser, always changing your personality for someone. To the security guard, you were a sports junkie, always catching the latest games. To the guy who worked at the bookshop, you were the classical girl. And to the barista, you were the girl who was always late but always paid 3 dollars extra tip. But Dr. Spencer Reid was the only exception. 6’1 and standing tall. Mr. Eidetic Memory and 187 IQ but oh God how you cared for him. You loved him, you loved him more than all the moons in the galaxy. But him? He hated you, so naturally, you hated him too. As the saying goes, if you can't beat them, join them.

“Guys we got a new case,” Garcia says.

You walked into the room and sat to the seat closest to the front where Garcia would be since she was your best friend. Ironically that was the seat farthest from Reid.

“Okay, so this is Mira Normen and her husband John Normen. They had gotten married 2 months prior to their deaths. Mira was 25 years old and she was a teacher at the local middle school. John was 26 and he ran a local pet grooming business. As you can see, but not me for obvious reasons, they were both stabbed once in their chest and then once in their thigh. Mira was shot once in the heart and once in the head and John was shot twice in the heart and twice in the throat. The M.E. found a ring stuffed into both of their throats. And not the cheap kind, I mean a year's worth of salary for one of us.”

“Okay, so this guy’s rich,” You said.

“Yeah, no shit sherlock,” Reid said.

“Guys,” Hotch said in a stern voice “Garcia do we know anything else?”

“Yes actually. They were both last spotted at an event for rich people. So like something Rossi would go to.” She said, chuckling at the last part.

“You and I both know very well that I do not go to those kinds of events. I stay at home for god sakes.” Rossi says causing you and a couple of other people to chuckle.

“Why does this case sound so familiar?” JJ asks, breaking the chuckles.

“Well there was a case exactly like this a couple of years back if my memory is correct, which it always is. We tried to solve it but we just couldn't so it ended up as a cold case.” Reid said.

“And everythings the same?” JJ asked.

“Yep, everything. Well except the city.” Reid said.

“Great, well i think we got everything. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says while getting up.

-------

You sat alone, like always. At first everyone was concerned, like they had done something, but they then soon realized that you just liked to be alone and this was really the only time.

“Okay, so I checked if anyone had moved in the years and I have 5 names. Thomas Maddison, Stephanie June, Eliza Honeycutt, Devi Paradise, and Klaus Hiller. And only one moved to our little town and that would be Miss Eliza Honeycutt.” Garcia said.

“Can you ch-” Morgan was saying but got cut off when she said

“Already did ‘Hot Chocolate’. Miss Eliza moved a total of 3 months after the case. Looks like it was due to a messy divorce. Her and Mr. Maddison had not been going strong for the last couple of months and it looks like they decided to call quits just before you guys came to town.”

“Can you-” Morgan started to say but then was again cut off by Garcia.

“Already got you babes. The address should be sent to your tablets.” Everyone was still looking at her, “that means look at your tablets.” She says while gesturing her hands making them look down.

“We got it babygirl,” Morgan said without being interrupted.

“Great! Now, this is the time I leave and let you amazing little people do your jobs!” And with that, she was out and so were you.

-------

It was 10 pm when you got to the hotel. You weren't exhausted but you definitely were not in the mood to solve a murder or multiple in this case. You all had checked in now was your favorite time of all choosing rooms. You never bunked with anyone unless Garcia, but that's if she ever came on a case. Emily and JJ were already gone, same with Hotch and Rossi. You were about to grab the key for the single room but Morgan got it before you.

“Sorry hot stuff, I need room alone this time.”

“What!? Why!?”

“I don't need to explain myself to you Y/N,” Moran says, and just like that he was gone.

You and Reid grabbed the keys without looking at each other and walked in the elevator. You both did not make any eye contact until you got into the room. There was only one bed. You immediately called room service but they said that there were no more rooms available so you two were stuck with that one.

“Okay, which one of us is gonna sleep on the floor?” you heard Reid say.

“Excuse me,?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh stop being such a baby Reid. We both know that if you don't sleep on a bed or something remotely similar you get all grumpy and get headaches all day. And if I don't sleep on a bed or something similar I get high on caffeine and get paranoid. So for the sake of the team, we are gonna sleep on the goddamn bed together!”

He didn't know you paid attention to him like that. Sure everyone knew that he would get grumpy, but headaches? No one, not even JJ. He didn't like to tell people about them fearing of being babied around even more than he already is. Although he did know that whenever you don't get enough sleep not only do you high on caffeine, but you have nightmares. You never told anyone except Garcia of course. He’d realized that you had nightmares after a group holiday to Rossi’s beach house, he heard you talking in your sleep and there were not good things being said.

“Okay geez fine whatever. Are you gonna go shower first, or am I”

“Me obviously,” you say while getting your clothes.

The water was hot when you got in, just how you like it. You started to soak your hair in the water needing to cool down a little and prepare yourself for the days ahead of you. All you could think about was sharing the same bed with him. With the guy, you're in love with but doesn’t know. And will never know.

After 30 minutes you got out of the shower and changed. You wore a pair of shorts and a loose flowy t-shirt which you had knotted after putting it on because it was too big. After you brushed your teeth, did your skincare, and brushed your hair.

“Finally, how long does it take?” You heard Reid say while you were walking out of the bathroom. He didn't look up until you sat on the bed turning the tv on.

“It takes 40 minutes Reid, it always takes 40 minutes. But you would never know because you've never had a girl stay over,”

“Oh, you're so funny aren't you,” he says in an annoyed way.

“Yeah, I am.” You said smirking while looking up expecting to see him annoyed but instead greeted with a small smile which was then washed away quickly by the sound of his voice.

“Okay, I'm gonna go take a shower now. Don't wait up.”

“ I won't, don't worry.” You say while he goes into the bathroom. You swear you saw him smile. It may have been small but it was there.

-------

“You waited for me.” You hear while turning off the tv. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. His hair was an absolute mess, and you could tell that he had to take a shower in not the hottest water.

“Ha, yeah no. You took like 10 minutes, did you think I was gonna fall asleep in 10 minutes.”

“Yeah well, that's what happens when you take up most of the hot water.”

“I'm sorry, you should have gone in the shower first.”

“You wanted to go into the shower first!”

“Okay and? Look, can we just go to bed or something? We have a long ass day ahead of us.”

You felt the bed dip and got chills all over. He didn't seem to notice, thankfully. You were cold, but not cold enough to want to layer up. You looked over and the time and it read 11:15. You tried to sleep, but you just couldn't. So again you looked over and read 11:39, and then it was 12:06. You felt like you were going insane.

“Why are you still up?” Reid said in a raspy voice while turning over to face you.

“Huh? Oh, um, I couldn't, can't sleep.”

“Ugh, fine come here.”

“What?” Before you could say anything he had wrapped his arm around you and forced you to nuzzle up against his chest. It actually felt pretty nice. You felt like you were on top of the world and that everything was going to be okay. You put your arm on him after processing what was happening. He then pulled you in closer and when you looked up at him you realized that he was knocked out, gone like a light in one of those horror movies. And before you realized it you were out too.

-------

“Y/L/N wake up,” is all you hear. The sun was barely out yet, so naturally, you just wanted to go back asleep.

“5 more minutes”

“Fine.” Although he didn't want to say anything or admit in this case. This was the best sleep that he’d gotten in a while. At first, he thought it was because of the way he slept but he then quickly realized that it was because of you. With your legs intertwined with his, one of your arms on his chest and the other in his hand. Your hair, so messy, yet so perfect at the same time and he would give anything to fall back asleep with you. He was in love. He was in love and was falling, falling harder than ever.

“Y/N, come on it's been 10 minutes. We need to go, get up.”

“What? Oh. Wait, fuck, what time is it?” You say in your very raspy yet airy morning voice.

“6:13, now we have to get ready or we will be late.”

You didn't want to get up, you really didn't. You wanted this moment to never end, but sadly time was not on your side for this one. “We never speak of last night, got it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Its agent.”

-------

“Miss Honeycutt, hi I’m Agent Y/L/N,” You say while sitting down for the interrogation.

“Hi yeah, why am I here?”

“Oh, no one’s told you yet?’

“Well yes the people who rudely (italicize) came into my home said something but I wasn’t really listening.”

“Oh okay then. You're here as a suspect for multiple murders.” Her face was in total and utter shock. “There has been a murder recently that connects to a murder that took place back a couple of years ago. You lived there when it had happened and then you moved. And now you’re here because a murder played out exactly that same way as the one that took place in the past.”

“Look, I have a valid reason for moving-”

“Divorce I know.”

“Yes, well you don’t know the reason.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“I was cheating on him, Thomas. He found out and then immediately filed for divorce.”

“Huh, is that so. Well, you kno-” You were cut off by the sound of the one and the only doctor himself.

“Y/L/N can I please speak to you.”

“Um yeah.” You walk outside of the interrogation room to face him. “What is it?”

“I don't think she did it. The way she’s reacting to all of this is way too natural to fake and she still hasn't called for a lawyer to be present. Normally in these types of situations the un-sub mostly always calls for a lawyer or anyone in that case.”

“I know, I know, I know. But she mentioned an ex-husband that could help us with this case.”

“So what you're just gonna “interrogate” her until she starts to talk about her former husband, or just talk about that and only that as a whole?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“You amaze me Y/N,” this was the first time he said your name in conversation naturally and not because he was forced to for an undercover assignment and shit. Well except for this morning but you can't decide if that was a small little fever dream or actual life so it doesn't count.

“And I you Spencer.” He noticed, oh he noticed and his heart practically burst from his chest because of the serotonin he got when you said his name. It was like every time you said his name an angel got its wings.

-------

“Hey Garcia, could you dig a little deeper on our little Thomas Maddison?” You ask her.

“Of course pumpkin. Okay so here's what I got. Thomas Maddison born May 30th leaving him to be a Gemini and you know how I feel about those. He moved from our fun little town too, well, um,-” was what she said before being cut off by Emily.

“What do you mean by ‘um’ Garcia?” She said with a puzzled expression.

“Well, ‘um’ means he disappeared from the face of Earth. Completely gone. No new dental records, no new home, I mean, not even a simple receipt. It’s like he just clicked ‘erase all’ after the divorce.”

“Is that even possible?” I ask.

“Well yes, but you have to literally become a new person for that to happen.”

“Garcia look into anything in his life that could possibly lead him to have hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Reid said.

“Okay, so it says here in one article that he owned a local jewelry store that got burned down around that time of the divorce. The local paper wrote it off as an accident but everyone thought he wanted to skip town after the divorce so he would just take all of the insurance money. Which I guess is kind of true. Um but anyway, yeah that’s really the only explanation. His parents didn't leave him that much money in the will, and he wasn't a drug dealer.”

“Okay, thanks hun! You've been of more help then you know. Call Hotch and everyone else in. I think we got the profile.” You said before ending the call.

* literally 5 or 6 minutes later *

“Okay, so the guy we’re looking for is very popular with the people. He always tries to make everything about himself. Your classic narcissist.” Hotch starts off with.

“This guy hates love though. He never brings up the topic and hates it when people bring it up. And although he hates love, he looks like the guy who could pick anyone he wanted, although he relatively picks on younger women.” JJ adds.

“Yes, and this guy is going to be a white caucasian male. Most likely in his late 20 or early 30s. And he is going to have wealth and will show it off as often as he can.” Emily says.

“Any questions” you heard Hotch ask.

“There’s an event tomorrow just like the one that Mira and John attended. Will he be there? And if so, do you think he will attack again? And if yes then what will do?” You see an officer asking.

“Well yes, we heard of that and already planned everything out. Tomorrow night Agent Y/L/N and DR.Reid will be attending the event.” Rossi said.

You were in complete shock, and frankly so was Reid. You guys never agreed to this, and as much as I love black tie events, they aren't really my cup of tea when there can possibly be a serial killer there. Not to mention the guy I fucking love more than anyone in the world would be there, with me (italicize). Like now I have to look badass and sexy (italicize) at the same time, although that wouldn't be that hard you thought to yourself.

“Guys, can Reid and I please talk to you all in private.” You give Rossi and Hotch very unobvious yet obvious death stares.

“Yeah, now please.” He says.

* again like 2 or 3 minutes later *

“Um hello, last time I never agreed to this and by the look on Reid’s face, neither did he.”

“Y/N you heard, our unsub likes younger women,” Derek says,

“Okay well then just send in Emily, or JJ, or both in that case.” You say in an angry tone.

“Oh baby, you think we're young? Were flattered but no. Sadly out of all of us, you look the youngest, and are the youngest.” JJ says while laughing along with Emily.

“And for you Reid, you out of most people should know that the murders happened between young lovers who got married. And Derek doesn’t call you pretty boy for nothing. Rossi says following JJs statement.

“We really aren't getting out of this one huh?” He asks.

“No. Now it's late so I want you all to get a good night's rest and be ready tomorrow. Reid and Y/L/N you guys can sleep in a little but you'll have to be ready by 4:30.” Hotch says. And with that, everyone goes back to their rooms.

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly, then all at once” – John Green, The Fault in our Stars

Part two coming tomorrow!

[benedictscanvas]

found - aaron hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k (i got a little carried away with this one!)

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, torture, serial killers, reader’s father was killed in a car crash, reader is the victim of emotional and (a small bit of) physical abuse from her mother, nice and fluffy ending

Request: i ADORE your writing. could you do a hotch x female reader where the reader works at the bau but comes from a really rich business family and a case comes in where her brother's gone missing because they want money from the family. they save him but the reader's mother belittles and slaps her, and the team stand up for her in front of her family and then later she goes to hotch's office and just some cute fluff because they've been in love with each other for years? ik it's weirdly specific lol

A/N: First of all, thank you! Also, never apologise for specific requests, it only means that I don’t have to think up an idea myself, haha, always a good thing! This one got away from me a little, but I just really loved how protective the team were of the reader here (especially my man Aaron). Love to you all, I hope none of you ever have to go through a situation like the one below <3

---

The weight in your stomach was beginning to ache now. Your mind was playing the events of the past few days over and over but you couldn’t work it out. You’d found him, you should be fine, and yet there was something still bothering you.

There was no way the BAU ever would have taken this case were it not for the connection you had to it, there was no point kidding yourself about that. It was on Tuesday morning that you had practically run through the bullpen towards Hotch’s office, ignoring the concerned voices of the members of your team and not bothering to knock as you burst in on him.

“It’s my brother,” you said, out of breath, clutching the door with a painfully tight grip as your chest heaved and Hotch stood from his desk. His face would have seemed as stoic as usual to most people, but you could see the worried lines around his eyes better than most people, “Someone’s taken him, I don’t know who, but they want money quickly and my mother won’t give them the money and-”

“Y/N,” he quieted you with his soft utterance of your name, and you gasped in for breath that you didn’t have. There were tears in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall, “We’ll get everyone in the conference room, okay? Tell us all at once.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together and wiping a shaky hand down your face. He didn’t question you. Didn’t question taking the case. You had hardly told him anything and he was dropping whatever the hell he had been doing, and even in your haze of fear you couldn’t appreciate him more.

“Thanks, Hotch,” you said quietly, and he simply nodded at you, resting a warm hand on your shoulder briefly as he passed you to gather the team together. Not five minutes later were you telling the team everything, from the rich parents you’d never previously mentioned to your brother’s disappearance, showing them a picture of the ransom note that had showed up on your mother’s doorstep that morning. Not thirty minutes later were you on a plane to your hometown, sat next to Hotch on the seat of four and listening to him and the team bouncing theories around.

It had taken three days to find him.

Three days of you being worried to the point of sickness. You’d thrown up multiple times. JJ had been there the first time, swiftly following you into the bathroom after the toe showed up in the mail. She held your hair back as you emptied your lunch into the toilet, your tears simultaneously streaming into the bowl. But the second time was after your mother refused for the fourth time to pay the ransom to save your brother. You only made it to a bin in an empty room in the police precinct, but Hotch was right behind you, rubbing your back with a firm hand.

You only found him in the end due to a connection Spencer made between the original ransom note and the note that came with the toe, an inconsistency that led Garcia to a name and you to an address. It all fell into place quickly, like it often did, and soon the two culprits were in cuffs, your brother was sent off in an ambulance and the case was closed with no lives lost. It should have been a good day.

But still, now, as you sat in the front seat as Hotch drove you to the hospital your brother had been taken to, your stomach was swirling with doubt and anxiety and you knew exactly why.

“You don’t look too happy,” he commented in a low voice, even though there was no one else in the SUV except for the two of you. As soon as your brother was taken away in the ambulance, your mother jumped in beside him and you were left on the pavement, before Hotch placed a hand on your back and jingled the keys beside you, spurring you into action, “Your brother will be fine, Y/N, they’re only taking him as a precaution.”

“Oh no, I know,” you said flippantly, turning to Hotch even though he kept his eyes on the road, “He’s a strong guy, he’ll take this in stride. There’s just something...else.”

You wondered whether you should tell him. It was a thought you dismissed as soon as it came. You and Hotch were close, closer than anyone else really realised, and if you told him there was no telling what he might want to do about it. There was nothing to be done, though, and so there was nothing to be said either.

“What is it?”

“I just-” you figured out your lie, needing it to be half-true so he wouldn’t see through it, “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that he’s safe.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. It was a sign that he knew you were lying, that he was waiting for you to crack and tell him the truth. A trick he’d learned from you, actually. Sometimes, you stayed late with him to help him out with paperwork, try to get him home a little sooner and you talked. You talked a lot. And whenever you’d ask him how he was, or whether something was bothering him and he would lie you would nod and go silent, waiting for him to speak again and inevitably reveal the truth.

It wouldn’t work on you this time. Instead, the rest of the drive passed in a slightly uncomfortable silence and when you got out of the car, the two of you headed into the hospital without words. Guilt poked at your heart but you pushed it away as you were given directions to your brother’s room and took purposeful steps in that direction.

Just as you reached the door, you pushed open the door to join him, your mother and the nurse that was checking him over.

“Hey little-”

“Y/N!” your mother cried, rushing over to hurry you out of the room again and you caught a glimpse of your brother’s apologetic glance before she was shutting the door in your face, “Can we have a word?”

The weight in your stomach was getting heavier by the second.

“I’d really like to see my brother and check he’s okay,” you said, tone clipped and formal. You felt Hotch’s presence a little way behind you, watched your mother’s eyes flick between you and him with disdain.

“And I would really like a word with you,” she said, her voice different to how it had been. She had an audience now, you thought silently, and fought the urge to roll your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind talking to your mother.”

She was trying to make you look bad and you knew it. You tried not to, but you could feel your embarrassment rising despite yourself. There was nothing to be embarrassed about and you knew it, but having Hotch there watching your mother talk to you like this, no doubt profiling you both made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Then let’s find somewhere private-” you attempted but she cut you off.

“No, we talk here.”

It had been her favourite method of doing things when you were younger too. As soon as your dad died, she began subtly belittling you in the house. Blaming you for his death was the only way she seemed to move forward, even though you quickly accepted that just because you had been in the car when he died didn’t make you at all responsible.

But it was when you went out with her that she truly came into her own, having the free reign to humiliate you as publicly as possible, making sure that other people heard it. You hadn’t seen her in a few years. You’d forgotten how difficult it was, even now, to avoid reverting back into that childlike state when she looked at you like that.

“Mother-”

“Again. Again, someone has hurt our family and again, you are the one responsible. Do you enjoying seeing me suffer? Is that was this is, Y/N?”

You stared at your feet and set your jaw. It was difficult to know whether to shout at her, laugh in her face, or start sobbing on the ground. You’d tried all three before. Nothing worked. And now - oh god - and now the whole team had rushed into the hospital to check on you and your brother and you turned your head a little to see Hotch hold up a hand to stop them from saying anything behind him. You bit your lip. The taste of copper filled your mouth with a welcome, distracting bitterness.

“How could this possibly be my fault?” you asked incredulously, looking up and meeting her gaze with all the anger you held towards her for so much of your life, all the resentment. You hoped none of the fear shone through alongside it. Apparently, your rage meant nothing, as she simply laughed, the hollow sound a haunting nostalgic tune.

“You’re meant to be a fucking FBI agent, and yet your brother has come home without two of his toes and one of his fingers,” she said, still laughing, shaking her head in disbelief at you, “You couldn’t find him in time.”

You were seething.

“If we hadn’t found him in time, he’d be dead. Things don’t always end this well, mother. He’s lucky,” you ground out and she reared back, stung.

“Lucky? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Mrs Y/L/N-” Hotch began, and you heard him take a small step forward behind you. You winced. You knew what was coming.

“Oh, Agent Hotchner,” she said, her tone sweet again and you felt your stomach churn. You were beginning to feel lightheaded. Your serial killer catching team were right there and you were being scolded by your mother. Don’t cry, you pleaded with yourself, “You must be so tired of dealing with my daughter and her lack of empathy. Thinking that her own brother is lucky when he’s been severely deformed, I mean, the lack of-”

“Severely deformed?” you said, chest heaving as you stared her down, “Sam is fine. He will be fine. He is not deformed. All thanks to me and my team. My amazing team, who do not want to see any of this so can we please-”

Part of you was hoping that maybe some of them would take your hint and leave, just so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of your colleagues anymore, just so you wouldn’t have to handle them losing all their respect for you. But there were no footsteps.

“We’re not going anywhere. You’re not seeing your brother. I won’t let you hurt him more than you already have-”

“I have never hurt Sam in my life-”

“You know you’ve hurt him more than anyon-”

“For fuck’s sake, mother, I didn’t kill dad!”

She slapped you. Actually slapped you right across the face and your head whipped to the side. She’d never done that before. Perhaps she’d never had the heart when you were younger, or maybe you’d never actually said the words before, you didn’t know. You clutched your cheek as you kept your eyes downward and felt the tears staining your cheeks. Fuck.

You were already planning your resignation from the BAU in the stunned silence of the corridor.

JJ was first to run forward, putting an arm around you.

“Are you okay?” she murmured in your ear and you simply nodded, shrugging her away from you a little in your embarrassment.

“Don’t you ever mention your father to me,” she said, her voice dangerous, but you still hadn’t looked up, couldn’t fathom giving her the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You wanted to scream at her, slap her right back, maybe slam her against the wall but you knew none of it would help. You hardly had any dignity left as it was.

“You know what, Mrs Y/L/N,” Dave spoke up into the silence and you closed your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t say anything too bad, “I was wondering why you wouldn’t pay the ransom. I thought maybe it was the principle, or perhaps you were worried they’d just ask for more. But, I get it now.”

“Yeah, me too, Rossi,” Derek chimed in, “Now it’s easy to understand. Your kids simply aren’t worth anything to you.”

“Excuse me?” your mother’s voice was higher in pitch and part of you was worried she might slap them, but you knew she didn’t have it in her. JJ was still hovering behind you.

“You have two wonderful children, Mrs Y/L/N,” Emily continued, “Sam’s a doctor, the perfect child and yet the only value he has to you is in the bragging rights he provides.”

“And Y/N? She’s one of the best agents in the bureau. She cares about people-” Spencer’s voice cracked and you blinked out a fresh wave of tears, “-she cares so much. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. If you can’t see that, then it’s your loss.”

You finally stood up straight and looked to your team with eyes full of shame. Your cheek was no doubt a different colour to the rest of your face, tear stains galore, eyes puffy. No moment was worse, than seeing them all staring at you with pity in their eyes, and yet the warmth you felt radiating from them was stronger than any feeling you’d ever had from your family. This was your family, after all. Your real family.

“Y/N’s one of the best people I’ve ever met too.”

“Same here.”

“Me too.”

Came the replies from your team. You let out a shaky exhale as you stared at them. Thanking them and apologising to them all at once with just the look in your eyes. Your mother was still silent, clearly shocked that anyone could possibly care about you like this, let alone a whole group of people.

“She’s the best person I’ve ever met,” Hotch spoke up and when your eyes snapped to his, you didn’t see pity. You saw that fiery anger that he usually reserved for the lowest of the low. And yet now, he was staring at your mother with that stare that made killers recoil in their seats. She looked horrified, “And she’s going in that room to see her brother. You will go outside and wait until we’ve left. Then, and only then, can you come back inside this building.”

“But-”

“That’s an order from a federal agent, Mrs Y/L/N,” his voice was hard and unfaltering and you saw his hands clenched at his sides, longed to prise them open and slip your fingers in between his, “Rest assured that if I ever hear you speak to Y/N like that again, I will make your life a living hell. You’re a lawyer, right? I pull some strings, and you’ll be out of a job before you can blink.”

“She’s my daughter and I will-”

“Go outside.”

You surprised yourself when you spoke up. But the anger that boiled inside you had bubbled to the surface and now, there was no stopping you. Your team were behind you, literally, figuratively, in every way possible. It was enough. You weren’t a child anymore.

“Y/N-”

“I said, go outside. I don’t want to see you again, are we clear? We’re done,” when she just stood there dumbfounded, you pointed towards the exit and took a step towards her, your heart leaping when she took a step backwards, “Leave.”

And just like that, she left. She had to walk past every member of your team on her way and they refused to move out of her way, so she had to squeeze past each and every one, mumbling to herself the entire time.

She was gone and silence enveloped the little corridor to the private room yet again.

“And don’t come back,” Dave muttered, causing you to finally crack a smile in his direction, which in turn made him smile, and the rest of the team, even though they were hesitant. You wanted to say thank you, but you weren’t sure you had the words. You were so damn tired.

“Hey,” JJ spoke up beside you, a hand on your shoulder, “Go see your brother. You want to stay for a while? We can hold the jet.”

You shook your head.

“I’ll see him quickly,” you said, “I just want to go home.”

Everyone smiled again, more sympathetically and Hotch spoke up, his voice back to his normal voice around you. It was your favourite version of him. Soft.

“We’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

You nodded gratefully, turning and heading into the room without another word, because you didn’t have anymore. You just said a quick hello to your brother, gave him a tight hug. You’d never been close, the torment you’d been put through by your mother he had been immune from and it had put a rift between you. You’d never understand each other. But he was your brother, and you loved him all the same, so you wished him well and told him to call more often. When you left the room, true to their word, the team were still there and led you out of the hospital to the SUVs, shielding you with their bodies from your mother outside. You didn’t even see her.

There was no talking in the SUV. Hotch drove, Derek in the front beside him and you sat in the back with JJ. She insisted. Halfway to the jet, she reached over and grabbed your hand, not even looking over at you and you squeezed it gently. You were grateful for the grounding touch.

It was only back on the jet that someone spoke up. Hotch was busy in the kitchen. But everyone else was sat around. You were sat beside Spencer at the table, with JJ and Rossi opposite. Derek was sat on the couch nearby and Emily perched on an arm rest just so she wasn’t sat too far from you.

“When did it start, Y/N?” Derek asked once the plane had been in the air for a while, earning some sharp looks from JJ and Emily but you waved them away.

“It’s okay, guys, it’s not like I can hide it now,” you said, having calmed down significantly on the drive to the jet, JJ’s touch and the hum of the engine comfort enough to decrease your heart rate, bring you back to earth. Your shame was still there, but you had tucked it away for later. Right now, you wanted to salvage as much of yourself as you could, “As you guys know, my dad was killed in a crash when I was 12. But what you don’t know, is that I was in the car and that my mother blamed me for it. She made everyday after a living hell. I moved out as soon as I could and never looked back. I’ve not seen her much since, just family events and such, but she’s always the same.”

They all had varying looks of anger and sadness. Spencer asked the question on everyone’s minds.

“Has she ever…?”

You didn’t make him finish, because you knew the words would be difficult for him.

“Hurt me before? No, she hasn’t. I don’t know what was different this time,” you shrugged, subconsciously reaching up to gently touch your cheek, “I don’t think I’ve ever said outright that I didn’t kill him before.”

“But you know you didn’t, right?” Emily asked without thinking and you smiled at her.

“I’ve always known that,” you said honestly, “It would have been so much worse if I’d believed her, but I always knew she was wrong.”

Hotch emerged from the kitchen with an ice pack and you smiled at him a little, relaxing when he offered a small smile in return. You expected him to hand it to you, but to your surprise he sat on your armrest right next to you, your arm pressed against his side. He brushed your hair away from your face with gentle fingers and placed the icepack on your cheek, apologising under his breath when you winced from the cold sting.

“That’s what you were worried about in the car then,” he mused aloud, gaining the attention of everyone on the plane, “You knew what was coming.”

“Somehow, I did,” you grimaced, looking up at him, “And I’m sorry you had to see it,” you looked around at everyone, “I’m sorry you all had to see it. It’s so embarrassing and degrading and...well I understand that your perception of me must have changed but I assure you-”

“Woah, woah,” Derek interrupted, “The only way my perception of you has changed, honey, is that you’re stronger than any of us knew.”

When you looked at everyone else around the plane, they were in agreement with Derek, it was clear. You felt yourself welling up again, and cursed your weakness.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for what you said about me,” you began, voice shaky, “It just...it means a lot. I’ve never had a real family before.”

“Well, now you do,” Dave said simply, watching you with those kind eyes of his. You nodded with a smile before Spencer produced a blanket from behind you, offering it up to you if you wanted to sleep. You accepted gratefully, laughing a little when Spencer and Hotch on either side of you helped to tuck it around you snugly. Your laugh was a sign to the team that they could relax. That you’d be fine. As you fell asleep, you felt Hotch lean into you a little more, still holding the icepack on your face, and the knowledge he was there was enough to lull you into slumber.

---

Spencer woke you gently and told you that you’d landed. There was no one left on the plane, but you’d trapped him into the window seat. He waved you off when you apologised.

“You’re really important to us, Y/N,” he said, letting a few walls down now that everyone else had gone. You knew it must’ve been hard for him to hear her say those things to you. You’d talked about childhood bullying before, helped him to work through his own without telling him your experience. He’d probably feel guilty that he hadn’t known, but you pulled him into a rare hug.

“You’re important to me too, Spence,” you said, knowing that he’d really meant it personally. You felt his smile against your shoulder and grinned at him sleepily when you pulled away, both of you making your way off the jet. You walked into the office and shared compulsory hugs with the rest of the team, including Dave who you didn’t think you’d ever hugged before. When the hugging was over and people began to make their way home, you looked up at his office.

Hotch.

He was leaning against his desk. Not working. You knew he was waiting for you, so you hopped up the steps and let yourself in without knocking, letting the door close behind you with a soft click.

As soon as the door was closed, his shoulders fell and his posture became hunched.

“Hearing her talk to you like that…”

He trailed off and your heart melted. You walked towards him and rested your hands tentatively on his biceps, feeling the muscles relax at your touch.

“Hotch,” you breathed, “We’re home now.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he said, eyes flashing upwards to meet yours and that anger seemed to be back, but it was directed inward, “She was saying all this crap about you and I didn’t even do anything, I didn’t want to intrude but then she- she slapped you, Y/N.”

He was talking in facts, a trick he used to take the emotion out of situations in which he got too emotional. You recognised it in an instant. The small protective edge he had for you was one that you shared for him, so you noticed these things. Made a habit of it.

“I know,” you said, nodding, “But that icepack did the trick in bringing the swelling down- look.”

You reached down and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to rest on your face. You knew it wouldn’t hurt. His touch was so hesitant around you, always worried to overstep a mark that you wanted him to leap over. Now, seeing him care about you made you bolder than you had been with him in the years you’d loved him.

You’d realised you loved him, actually, really loved him about two years ago. It had been three for him. Two beings hopelessly devoted to one another, yet kept apart by paralysing fear. You were kind of over it.

You leaned into his hand, but he was the one who closed his eyes and relished in the touch.

“You took care of me,” you whispered into the relative darkness of his office, lit only by the soft glow of the overhead lamp, “See?”

He shook his head with a gulp.

“Shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

“What could you have done?” you asked, smiling, “Slapped my mother first?”

He cracked a smile at that and his chuckles joined your own giggles in a few seconds.

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he insisted and brought his other hand up to cup your other cheek in an act of boldness spurred on by your own. Perhaps he was tired of not just being with you too. God, you hoped so, “You looked so...ashamed afterwards and you had nothing to be ashamed about. All I- all I wanted to do was take you in my arms and take you away from there.”

He’d never spoken like this before. You basked in his words, enjoying the pleasant tingling that had erupted down your spine. You were feeling lightheaded again, but this time you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“A nice thought,” you hummed, “I think I could get used to being in your arms.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you were breathless as you leaned closer to him, because now you’d had some of him it would never be enough. You needed it all. You needed every bit of him, because now you knew it could be yours if he said it. You needed him to say it.

“You wanna know something?”

“I really, really do.”

You were getting closer with every word. Breathier with every passing second.

“I’ve loved you for years,” his lips brushed against yours as he whispered the key to his soul, “And nothing hurts me more than seeing you in pain.”

You closed your eyes and brushed your lips against his again, fleeting, a promise.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” you gave him your soul in return, because it was the fair thing to do, after all.

He pressed his lips against yours properly, for the first time. All at once, the world tilted and you had found a new course for the future, one where you hoped Hotch - Aaron, as you moaned when he began a path of kisses along your jaw - would keep kissing you like this for a lifetime.

[bi-bard]

An Extra Dose of Chaos- Malcolm Bright Imagine (Prodigal Son/Criminal Minds Crossover)

Title: An Extra Dose of Chaos

Pairing: Malcolm Bright X Reader 

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,861 words

Warning(s): Violence in canon of both shows

Summary: (Starts on season 13, episode 7 of Criminal Minds) The BAU found themselves in a time of need after their final confrontation with Scratch. Though absolutely devastated by the loss of Stephen Walker, (Y/n) was somewhat excited to not be seen as the new kid anymore when Malcolm Bright was brought on to the team. Now, if he could just stop making such a mess of things...

Author’s Note: THERE MAY BE A PART 2 OF THIS BUT I’M NOTE SURE YET! It took a long time but... I found a way to connect them! I am so excited! Also, I doubt Malcolm would’ve lasted this long in the B.A.U but this is the best way to put him in the story without using two seasons that were airing at the same time (Season 1 of Prodigal Son and season 15 of Criminal Minds)

Please consider supporting my Ko-fi account. It would mean a lot to me. If I know there are people interested in it, I’ll get the monthly donation part set up. 

Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/khoward0 

----------------------------------------------------

I let out a sigh as I walked to the round table. Another day without Stephen. We had both joined the team around the same time, but I was still declared a new kid because he beat me here by about a month. Garcia had given Luke the official title but I still felt it whenever we were debriefed on a case. Stephen gave me someone to relate to. 

I looked over to the door as J.J walked in. She grinned at me.

“Emily hired a new agent,” she said. I nodded. “How are you?”

“Shaky but desperate to get some work done,” I replied, forcing a smile. I knew she was going to say more but luckily the team walked in before she could.

Emily stayed standing as everyone got settled in their seats.

“Everyone, this Malcolm Bright, he’s our new agent,” she said, pointing at the man standing next to her. He waved. Emily and him made their way to their seats. “Take it away, Garcia.”

Malcolm had sat in the spot right next to me. I glanced over at him while he read the case file. He seemed... giddy? That wasn’t the right word but I don’t think there was a better one. Something that should’ve disturbed him just... didn’t.

It was a strange case. Victims were kidnapped, had symbols carved into their faces, and then were found in their cars but miles away from where they were last seen. All without any memory of what had happened to them. 

“Alright, wheels up in 30,” Emily said before standing. Everyone followed close behind her.

“Hey, Malcolm,” I said, stopping the new guy before he left. “How are you feeling? I know some of this stuff can feel overwhelming on the first day.”

“I’m alright,” he replied. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

“When,” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing together for a moment.

“Oh, y’know, research for school and such,” he shrugged the question off. “I’ve gotta get my go bag.”

“Okay, see you on the jet.”

“We have our own jet?”

--Time Skip--

“Spencer,” I said, looking at the photos of one of the victim’s injuries. “These can’t be taser or stun gun marks.”

“Why,” the doctor in front of us asked. 

“They usually burn the skin around the radius of the mark,” I replied. “There’s no burn mark.”

“Did the victim report a metallic taste in her mouth,” Spencer asked as Malcolm looked over my shoulder at the photos. 

“They’re probably snake bites,” Malcolm noted, cutting the doctor off a little bit. “Blood tests would show if there was any venom present.”

Spencer turned around and listed off a few blood tests that I could never remember. I closed the file. 

“A snake as a way to subdue a victim, that’s risky,” I said, looking at Malcolm.

“Hot day, lock the snake in the car, and wait,” he mumbled. “It leaves a lot to chance. This is the element that matters. There’s no way a snake is a weapon of opportunity.”

“If it’s a dangerous reptile, there’d be records of licenses,” I said as we followed Spencer out of the hospital. “Once we have the kind of snake, we could ask Garcia to cross-reference.”

“Except if it was bought on the black market,” Malcolm added. 

“You do not know Garcia,” I smirked, picking up my pace to keep up with Spencer. Damn this boy and his gazelle legs. 

“She seems delightful,” Malcolm shrugged. None of us spoke again until we were in the car. “So... why does this guy choose body modification? Why specifically the scarring? Surely tattoos would have a similar effect to the women’s self-worth.”

“I don’t know yet,” Spencer replied. “I say we relay what we know to the team and see what they say.”

We both nodded, waiting for him to start the car.

--Time Skip--

I wondered why my heart could beat so fast yet I could look so calm when we got to crime scenes. It was like my fear responses stopped halfway. I’m sure there was a reason for it but there are some things you think about but don’t really want the answers to. 

I took a deep breath as the car stopped. I unbuckled quickly. We had split up. Matt, J.J, Malcolm, and me in one car; Rossi, Spencer, and Luke in the other. Emily stayed back at the police station to help us out as much as possible. 

Matt and J.J went around the back to keep watch. Malcolm and I got to the front door. I was just about to lay my hand on the doorknob so we could be smart about this...

and then Malcolm sprinted in. No count, no warning, he just ran in without any warning.

“Malcolm,” I hissed, following him quickly. What the hell was wrong with him. 

I barely got there at the same time as him when he busted the door down. 

“F.B.I,” I shouted, actually doing my job. I followed him inside.

He didn’t have his gun aimed. Did he have it out when he first ran in? I kept my gun fixed on Desi- the unsub- who was just staring at us. Her mom tied to a chair and her sister trapped on one of the seats you’d see in a tattoo parlor.

“Desi, drop the knife,” Malcolm said, holding his gun up. 

“You- You don’t know what she did to me,” she replied.

“We do,” he nodded. “We know about the neglect and... and the abuse.”

“I was so scared,” she was whispering.

“Who wouldn’t be,” I asked. “You were just a kid-”

“I tried so hard to erase any sign of her,” she continued. “And there she is on the front page. They think she’s perfect.”

My eyes drifted towards the snakes in the room. 

“The perfect woman! The perfect mother! They don’t know what she’s capable of... what I’m capable of.”

“We know,” Malcolm nodded, grinning at her. “I also know that if you surrender and we walk out of here, everyone else will know too. She’ll have to live with that. Isn’t that what you wanted? For your mom to live with the shame of all of this?”

Desi went to move forward, towards the snakes.

“Desi,” I said firmly. She stopped... for a moment. She then ran at the container, shoving it towards the ground before sprinting out the other door. 

“Help her mom,” I shouted, walking over to her sister. “Hey, stay with me, yeah? We’re gonna get you help.”

I went to call for an ambulance, only stopping for a second when I heard gunshots. I shook it off, calling the ambulance before helping her sister up and out of the room. Malcolm had already left with her mom.

--Time Skip--

We were all on the jet later that night. Some of the team was playing poker, others just relaxing. I was lounging on the small jet couch, cradling a mug of tea. 

“Hey,” Malcolm said softly, sitting next to me. I nodded as a way to acknowledge him. “I’ve only known you for a few days but I can already tell that silence is not a good sign.”

“You ran into the house with any regard for safety,” I replied. “Your gun wasn’t drawn, you didn’t wait for back-up and was just lucky I was there, and you ran into an active crime scene without announcing that you were the F.B.I.”

“I did almost everything wrong.”

“Pretty much,” I sighed. “But you did a good job reasoning with Desi. As good of a job as any of us probably could.”

“Well, I’m sorry about what happened... but can I ask something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you so worried,” he asked. “I’d say you were angry but you aren’t displaying all of the signs of anger and you can’t just be nervous about the unsub because the event is over with.”

“I was the new kid before you,” I explained, already questioning whether or not I was ready to talk about this. “Around the same time I joined, Stephen Walker did. The team was looking for this serial killer that called himself Mr. Scratch. We thought we had found him and we knew the house was safe... we thought we were gonna catch him. Then, I think he laid spike in the road. Our cars crashed into each other. It was bad. Emily was kidnapped, the rest of us unconscious... except for Stephen. He died in that accident before they’d even found the cars. I had to tell his wife. I couldn’t even look to my right on my way home because her tears had stained my shirt. I lost the person I was closest to on the team.”

“Now you see another new kid running into snake dens like it’s no big deal,” Malcolm concluded. I nodded.

“It makes me really nervous,” I looked down. 

“I’m sorry,” he replied quietly. I shook my head.

“It’s alright,” I looked back up at him. “Just... please don’t do something like that again.”

“... I’ll do my best.”

I chuckled at his hesitation. If all went well, Malcolm would fit in just fine.

--Time Skip (In Between Seasons 14 & 15)--

“Hey,” I said as Malcolm walked over to his desk. He had yet another meeting with Emily and Cruz. This time it went a step further. “How’d it go?”

“I had a meeting to explain my actions,” he explained, grabbing his go-bag. It was pretty much the only thing he had at his desk. “And they fired me.”

“What,” I asked. I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Are you surprised that it happened or are you surprised that it happened?”

“You did punch a sheriff,” I trailed off. 

Malcolm nodded and started walking toward the elevator. I stood up and followed him quickly.

“Where are you gonna go,” I asked.

“Probably back to New York,” he shrugged. “My mom wants me back there anyway.”

“Oh,” I nodded. I wanted him to stay closer. I wanted to see him. I looked down nervously as we waited for the elevator. “It’s gonna be boring without you here.”

“Always kept you on your toes,” he chuckled. The elevator dinged. “You should come visit. Just give me a call.”

“Okay,” I replied. I was going to just wave but then jumped when Malcolm quickly kissed my cheek and stepped into the elevator. I could only watch in shock as the elevator doors closed. 

“Did that just happen,” Garcia asked, walking over to me.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, looking at her. “Oh my god!”

“Go talk to him,” she shouted as the other elevator opened. I ran in, waving at her and telling her to let Emily know where I went.

What I didn’t see was J.J walk up to Garcia after the elevator doors closed.

“What’s (Y/n) doing,” she asked. Garcia just grinned. 

“Proving that you owe me twenty bucks,” she replied.

“No he didn’t,” J.J said. Garcia nodded. “I’m waiting for (Y/n) to confirm that before I give you money.”

“(Y/n) might still be in shock when they get up here.”

...and maybe I was.

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