#The same woman who will sit across a table from a serial killer

[sadiesawyer]

Sadie has always been a little unnerved by people in Easter Bunny costumes.

[rinhaler]

So Tell Me What You Need

oliver aiku really really likes you ♡

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ yandere!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (++ smut) Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for doing gods work with this fic i hated it hehehe Warnings: 18+, serial killer mention, murder mention, weed mention, smoking, stalking ♡, manipulation, dub/noncon, 'just the tip' ♡, coercion, oral (m receiving), cock slapping ♡, facial, creampie ♡, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, etc.) ♡ Words: 7.2k

The body of a young woman was discovered in the early hours of Thursday morning. It’s the third body in the last five months to be found, and an inside source has revealed that this is thought to be a pattern by one killer. The victims are all female and—

Your heart pounds as you shut off the TV in your front room. It’s the last thing you want to hear as the windows reveal the dark night sky outside. You don’t even see the stars above; the light pollution takes that comfort from you. All you can see is rows of apartments opposite to your own, some lit and some dim. Some with funky colours but most are warm white.

And your face flushes with heat as you notice one of the latter have a couple fucking up against a window before you turn away to face your roommate.

She notes your concern, but chooses to smirk and poke fun anyway.

“Maybe it’s your stalker,” she teases you. “You might be next.”

“That’s not funny.” you sigh, storming off to your room. You wince as you look at the abandoned study materials at your desk. You’ve been putting everything off for weeks, but your coursework and exams are the last thing on your mind.

You find yourself pacing around a little before you eventually decide to sit on the edge of your bed. There’s no way you can possibly sleep after hearing that. And your roommate’s poor joke has only made you more paranoid. So, what is there left to do?

Music might help, you think to yourself as you unlock your phone. You can barely do anything as your fingers begin to tremor while you look through your playlists. You’re interrupted, though, as a call from an unknown number fills your screen.

You mask your fear with anger, grunting as you swing open your bedroom door to yell at your friend.

“Stop it, Lacey! I’m going to have nightmares, I’m serious!” you yell. She looks at you, confused. You hold up your phone to show her the incoming call. But her eyes drop to the coffee table, her own phone discarded on top of it in favour of smoking from her bong.

“Answer it.” she urges you.

And you gulp, nodding, sliding the button across the bottom of the touch screen to take the call. You steel yourself, already knowing what’s coming as soon as you speak. It’s the same thing every single time. You don’t say a word, not for a few seconds. There isn’t a sound from either of you as you sit on the couch while your roommate’s eyes follow you.

“Hello?” you say, meekly.

It begins.

The heavy, repetitive breathing that sends a chill down your spine. She looks concerned, now. It’s the first time she’s been present when you’ve received a call. You’d started to suspect she didn’t believe you.

“Who the fuck is this?” she yells, snatching the phone from your hand. Their breathing stutters, it’s barely noticeable but you both pick up on it. It’s enough to make her hang up. “I— you should stay in my room tonight. W-With me.”

“Are you scared?” you ask her, earnestly. She doesn’t respond, but the fact that she’s packing away her drug paraphernalia is answer enough. “Thank you.” you smile, though you leave the room as you do.

You start scrolling through your contacts on instinct, tossing your phone onto your bed as you find the number you’re searching for and put it on loudspeaker as it dials. It rings and rings, and you start to worry you won’t get through. You undress, taking off your clothes from the day to change into your pyjamas.

“Hey you,” he starts. “S’pretty late, baby. Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oliver…” you start, legs buckling at the sound of his voice as you feel a combination of relief and guilt surge through you. You sniff, the pressure of your fear and other underlying emotions doing their best to overwhelm you. “My— The stalker called. Again.” you tell him, and you’re instantly met with a sympathetic coo.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asks. “Or do you wanna come here? I’ll pick you up, princess, s’not a problem.” he continues. You shake your head despite him not being able to see.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Sorry, I was just freaking out. Nice to hear your voice, though…” you smile a little, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Alright. Only if you’re sure.” he speaks, clearing his throat. “I miss you, though. You better let me see that pretty face of yours soon.”

“Okay,” your smile widens. Once again nodding knowing he can’t actually see you right now. “Goodnight Oli.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

Sharing a bed with your roommate helped. You didn’t even mind her snoring, it’s not like you’d expected to get much sleep anyway. You got enough to get you through the day, though. Classes went by without incident, and you didn’t feel yourself wavering at lunchtime like you have been recently.

The calls are unpredictable, you’re always on edge. There’s no specific times or days or even how many times he’ll call.

You walk back to your apartment alone. The winter sucks. It’s not particularly cold, but it’s dark when you get to your classes and then it’s dark again when you leave for the day. You feel like you’re going crazy, and you can’t pretend you aren’t scared of being outside alone when it’s so dark out.

A text notification frightens you enough to almost drop your phone. You don’t even remember turning your phone off silent. Though you can’t help but grin when you see who it’s from.

Oli: Wanna hang out tonight?

You: I’m too behind on my coursework ☹

You: Another time? x

Oli: Okay princess x

You take a deep breath, pocketing your phone as you continue your journey to your apartment. The elevator isn’t empty, but you don’t mind. If anything, you feel a little better to be around people. Your music plays softly through your earphones the whole time, and your anxiety finally begins to dissipate.

Although, it comes flooding back when you get to the door of your apartment.

It’s locked.

And, normally, that would be fine. But Lacey always finishes early on Monday’s. And she’s always home before you get here. Your mind instantly flickers to the phone calls. The stalker.

The news report last night.

Little hands tremble as you search pathetically through your tote bag until you find your keys. The metal clings and clangs as you search for the right one; you jump as they fall from your hands. Eventually, though, the right one is in your grasp and you open the door quickly.

There’s no sign of her. She isn’t smoking in the front room like you expect. You open her bedroom door without knocking, only to discover she isn’t there either. Deep breaths are taken in vain. You try to call her, but there’s no answer.

You: Are you okay?? Call me ASAP

Lacey: I’m fine! I’m at the frat hanging out with Eita 😇

“Oh thank God.” you sigh, all but falling to your knees when you read her reply. Instantly, you can’t help but think about what a slut she is when you think about her failing to tell you her plans because she’s decided to sneak off to ‘hang out’ with her toxic friend with benefits.

Your mind is clear, though your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Oli: You’re really just gonna study all night? X

You: Thinking about ordering a pizza :P x

Oli: I like pizza you know 🙄x

You: Next time! Promise x

It’s crazy. It’s embarrassing, actually, how quickly he can put you at ease. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. You sigh, dreamily, as you recall how he had introduced himself to you and Lacey during welcome week. He had to squeeze in the fact he was the president of the most popular frat on campus.

Even then, he made you blush. Though you couldn’t act on it; you’d had a boyfriend at the time. But you’ve been single for almost as long as you’ve known Oli, since you dumped him a week or two after; when you realised you didn’t love him anymore. And, still, nothing has happened between you and Oliver.

You’re scared, truthfully.

You’re scared because you know he’s experienced and he’s confident. You know girls throw themselves at him and he knows he’s popular. You’re not a virgin, but compared to him you may as well be.

After clearing your throat and shaking your head to dismiss your train of thought, you start looking for food to add to your basket from your favourite pizza place. It’s so hard to choose, as much as you’d love to get everything, you’re basically broke.

Incoming call.

“Please, no.” your voice breaks as you speak out loud.

You shouldn’t answer. The number is private and you already know what’s going to happen. But you’ve tried that before. You’ve tried ignoring them, but they just keep calling until you answer.

You’re frozen, paralysed with fear as you contemplate what to do. Lacey isn’t here to support you this time. She won’t be coming back, either. So, do you really want to answer? Do you really want to deal with how many calls you’ll receive if you don’t?

The burden of dealing with this alone is too much to bear.

But you’ve been left with no other choice.

“H-Hello?” you whimper, eager to get it over with. The breathing starts, and you’re surprised that this time it’s enough to make you cry. And it’s not just a few tears falling. Whoever is on the other end of the call will undoubtedly know what you’ve been reduced to. “Please stop doing this. W-What do you want from me?” you cry.

It's useless, though, the breathing just continues.

“I can’t t-take it anymore, please, p-please…”

“Mmmmpf,” you hear, it’s cracked and strained and it makes you feel sick. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining things, or if this sicko is actually getting off to the sound of your anguish and desperate pleas. “Thank you.�� they say, the voice is deep and distorted but it’s clear as day.

Your breath is trapped in your lungs. And for the first time, they hang up.

You just can’t anymore.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t function.

Can’t think.

You can think enough to call Oli, though. Tremoring digits manage to navigate away from the takeout website to bring up your text thread with Oliver once more. And you don’t hesitate to press the call button.

Your eyes are soaked, vision blurry like a smudged camera lens as you look around your barren apartment while you wait for him to pick up.

“Hi gorgeous,” he answers, a seductive lilt in his tone. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d be flustered. You can picture the smirk on his face as he talks, though you aren’t really listening. “What’s up, baby? Calling to brag about that pizza?”

“O-li.” you sniff, voice cracking after each vowel. He’s silent, but you hear him move. Like he’s sitting upright suddenly, ready to spring into action to rescue you. “He c-called. Again, Oli… again—”

“Shit.” he sighs. “Do you want me to—”

“Please… come get me. ‘m so scared, don’t wanna be here a-alone.” you whine.

“I’m on my way.” he tells you. “I won’t be long, baby. I promise. See ya soon, princess.” he finishes, cutting off the line as he rushes to his car.

Your body stiffens as the silence of your apartment hits you once more. You can’t waste time, though. So, you pack. You’re quick about it, too. You fill your biggest bag with toiletries, a change of clothes and sleepwear… and your coursework.

There’s no way you’ll be doing any work tonight, but you can at least pretend you’re functioning like normal. You can’t let this creep dictate your entire life, right? Maybe being with Oliver will actually keep you calm enough to actually get some of your work started.

Oli: I’m outside x

The black night sky makes your heart race as you walk out of your apartment. The winter cold is harsher in the bleak evenings. Your thin sweater isn’t enough to protect you from the air nipping at your skin.

It’s the least of your worries; all you can think about is the fact this stalker of yours could be watching you right now. It could be anyone. Someone from your class, someone you shared the elevator with, your next-door neighbour. The very thought makes your steps quicken. You’re hurrying to the elevator and bashing the button until it arrives. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe since you left your apartment, because you’re alone. But even then, your skin breaks into goosebumps as you look up at the CCTV camera in the corner.

You’ll never feel safe, not really.

You rush down the road when you see Oliver’s car in the distance. He honks, and it’s all you need to run to him. You’re running like an athlete, and it feels more humiliating than it should. You’re sure Oliver understands why you’re frightened; and you’re sure he won’t judge you for sprinting to the car. But, still, it feels pathetic.

You open the door roughly before you practically dive into the passenger seat. He moves out of the way a little as you throw your overnight bag into the back seat.

“Hey, you’re alright now. Yeah? I’ve got you.” he speaks softly, doing what he can to relax you. You almost melt into his touch as he tucks a hair behind your ear. You do, a little, your body almost melds to the plush leather seat. Your head falls backwards onto the head rest, and your lip begins to wobble. “Poor thing…” he sighs.

“D-Drive, please…” you say, voice weak and strained.

He nods, driving off towards the frat house.

“I wouldn’t worry, you know.” he tells you, putting his hand on your thigh as he drives slow and carefully. You don’t object to his advances, in fact, it’s a comfort to feel his warm hand on your bitter flesh. Even his rough thumb stroking your skin is a welcome feeling. “It’s probably your ex, princess.”

“You think so?” you wonder. “I don’t know… he didn’t take the breakup well, but—”

“You never know what people will resort to when they’re heartbroken, baby.” he tells you, uneven eyes focus on you even as he drives. It makes you nervous, but his calm demeanour forces you to ignore it. You trust him, wholly. “Plus, he knows he lost the best thing that’ll happen to him in his pathetic life.”

“… Oli.” you smile, looking down at your knees as you try to avoid his cocksure stare.

He doesn’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

You come face to face with Lacey as you walk through the grandiose double doors. You feel like a guest of honour as you enter the castle that Oliver Aiku reigns over. Everyone is filled with warm smiles and happy faces as you see them. But your expression in return is feeble. You try to smile, but you’re so downtrodden, and Lacey immediately knows why.

She doesn’t even care that you don’t say hello when you run by her on the stairs and hurry to Oliver’s room. Oliver remains at the bottom while he watches you flee.

“She got another call.” he informs your roommate.

“Fuck.” she hisses through her teeth as she looks back up the stairs. Her voice is filled with remorse as she thinks things through. “I shouldn’t have left her alone; I knew she was—”

“S’alright, Lace,” Oliver smiles, his pristine pearly whites instantly put her at ease. “You can’t be with her every second, don’t blame yourself.” his eyes are so warm and full of love, she sees it every time he talks about you. He’s good for you, she thinks. He’s so sweet about you and he’s crazy about you.

“Give her our best.” Eita tells him, putting a hand on Lacey’s shoulder as they descend the stairs. “We’re going to smoke in the garden.”

“Enjoy yourselves, kids.” Oliver smirks, winking at them before chasing after you.

He sees you making yourself comfortable in his room. You’re already undressed, and you don’t care that he can see you. He doesn’t dare look away, either. But you don’t mind. He watches as you put on the mismatched pyjamas you threw into your bag, and he sits beside you on the bed after you collapse backwards onto the mattress.

“I’m gonna change my number,” you whisper. “I should have done that in the first place…”

“Good idea.” he agrees. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his hand rest atop your head, his thumb delicately stroking your forehead again and again. He swears he sees you fall asleep for a second before you scare yourself awake with a too heavy breath. “Should we get you that pizza?”

You nod, lightly.

“I’d like that.”

He’s the perfect gentleman. You’re lucky to know Oli, you think. That’s how you feel anyway, as he watches you in silence while simultaneously encouraging your efforts in getting your schoolwork done.

He was kind, and he was helpful. Telling you that you could take a break or stop all together for the evening when your food arrived. And so, you spent a good while making notes and studying textbooks.

“Atta girl.” he winks at you, teasingly, when you begin to scribble down words onto pages. “I’m proud of you, baby, don’t let that idiot get under your skin.”

“Thanks Oli, I—” you’re cut off by the sound of your phone vibrating. You look over your shoulder and back to the desk you’ve been sitting at for the last 35 minutes. “O-Oli…” you whimper, showing him your phone.

He sets his own phone down on his bedside cabinet as he focuses on yours. It’s them. Oliver takes your phone, eyes furrowed as he debates whether to answer or not - choosing to answer brazenly. He puts it on loudspeaker, if only so you can confirm it is indeed the man who’s been harassing you endlessly.

The breaths are heavy but also stifled. It’s like he’s trying to control himself. He’s trying to be quiet. Oliver looks at you for answers, but you don’t have any for him. You haven’t got a single solitary clue on how to deal with these calls anymore.

Nothing works.

“Keep messing with her, I’ll fuck you up.” he says sternly. He eyes you up to make sure you’re listening to him. He wants you, needs you, to know he’s going to protect you at any cost. “We know who you are, so knock it the fuck off.”

He presses the big red disconnect button and puts your phone down beside you on the desk. He’s a little taken aback when you rush into his arms, your head resting on his firm chest while your arms wrap tightly around his torso. His hand comes down gently on the crown of your head and hear him emit a soft chuckle. You can’t see the small smile etching its way across his face, but you know it’s there.

“I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” he assures you. You feel like a different person, with him. It’s like you’re having an out of body experience when you find yourself lunging forward on your tippy toes to place your lips against his. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Not right away, at least. He holds your shoulders after a few seconds go by. “Where did that come from?” he smirks.

“I don’t know, sorry… I just—” you’re interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You back away a little, smiling. “Saved by the bell.” you joke.

“I’ll go,” he closes the gap between you again, bending down to capture your lips in a soft, chaste kiss once again. “Find a movie or something, anything you want.” he whispers against your skin before parting from you.

You shiver, slightly, after he closes the door behind himself. The rational side of you knows that you’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen right now. But you can’t help feeling safer with Oli around.

Maybe that’s why you kissed him.

You’re just so grateful to him.

“We should prob’ly go to sleep.”

You nod, agreeing when you see the time tick tick ticking on the plain black clock above his desk. A few hours had passed since the most recent call. You didn’t even pick a movie, you ended up watching some silly gaming videos on YouTube while you ate together.

It was divine.

And you can’t deny the possibility that it tasted better with a smile on your face and good company.

You get under the covers, your body feeling warmer as you watch Oliver circle the bed to turn off the light. He’d decided to forgo wearing anything to cover his chiselled body, and you suspect he did it on purpose.

The room is plunged into darkness until he uses the flashlight on his phone to guide his way back to bed. The mattress sinks behind you as he gets under the covers, and you only just manage to suppress a yelp when he presses his body against yours. You could quite literally dissolve under the pressure.

He smirks against the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he kisses you there, a desperate mewl escaping you in an instant. His hand rests on the curve of your hip, though his thick fingers begin to sink into your malleable flesh. You can’t even bring yourself to protest as you feel him not so subtly nudge his hips into you. And you can feel him.

“Oli… w-we shouldn’t.” you say, softly, the desperation clinging to your tongue gives away your true feelings instantly. You shouldn’t? That’s your opinion, clearly, as a rough hand winds its way around your body and up the baggy unflattering t-shirt you’d decided to wear.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against the hairs standing on end on the back of your neck. Words formulating in your mouth crumble to pieces when he squeezes the supple flesh of your breasts, alternating between them like he’s deciding which is his favourite. He experimentally rolls one of your nipples between his finger and thumb, and he’s mesmerised by the sound you release and the way you back your ass up against his aching length. He offers his own breathy sound in response. It’s almost a gasp. “You like this?” he wonders aloud despite knowing.

And you could cry as you nod.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. Since you’ve been loved.

And why should you put your needs on hold just because you’re a little scared?

“What about just the tip, princess?” he mutters, you feel your panties soak through as gravelly words enter your ear canal. He’s that desperate. He needs you that badly that he’s prepared to settle for just the tip. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand how much I need you, baby?”

“We r-really shouldn’t…” you tell him.

Even through the material of the top you’re wearing, you feel his rock hard body pressed heavily into your back. His hard-on makes you dizzy, you may as well be drunk from how much the room is spinning as you do all you can to resist.

“But you want to.” he tells you. He moves you onto your back and cages you in. He brushes his bulging sweats into your heat, his head drooping as he feels so close but so far to what he’s always wanted. Since the very moment he set his sights on you, he wanted this. “I can feel you, princess. You can feel me too, yeah?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, Oli… I feel you.”

“So stop fightin’ it.” he commands, though there’s a level of desperation interlaced with his words. He pulls down his sweats and his cock springs free, slapping against his abs and leaving a sticky smear against his tensing muscles. You whimper when he repeatedly taps his cockhead against your clit, even through the layers you’re wearing to cover it. Your toes curl. “Just the tip, sweetheart. C’mon, for me… been waiting so long for this.”

You don’t even answer before he hooks deft fingers into the waistline of your shorts. He leaves your panties, though. And you yelp as his fingers tease the pretty lace covering your drippy folds. He hums, he moans as his fingers run along the clothed length of your slit.

“You’re fucking soaking, baby. You need this cock, please. Let me fuck you. Why are you tryna deny yourself of a good time?”

And with that, you find yourself nodding dumbly.

He growls at your muted answer. It’s all he needs. It’s all he fucking needs and he’s happy his odd coloured eyes even manage to pick up on the gesture even in the dark. Could he have imagined it? He doesn’t know, nor does he care when your legs spread open for him like a flower once he moves your panties aside. The dewiness is cold against the crease of your thigh, but it’s barely noticeable as Oli spits down on your pulsing clit.

“Just the tip, o-okay?” you stutter.

“Mmm,” he answers. He hisses as your tight cunt swallows him, practically sucking in the head of his cock as soon as your entrance feels him. His eyes lose focus for a second and his breathing is erratic.

It’s happening.

It’s really happening.

He almost loses balance, hands settling on your bent knees so he can stabilise himself. You’ve been playing so hard to get for so long. And even you aren’t sure why.

He cups your face as he lowers his body on top of yours. His lips slot against your own as he kisses you passionately, though he breaks it soon enough.

“’m sorry.” he apologises. And you’re confused, only for a moment, before you feel his full-length plunge into your unprepped walls. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging and scratching over beautiful musculature and marking him like he’s yours “You’re fucking tight, baby.” he chuckles, kissing you again as his hips begin to gyrate.

“Oli, I said—”

“Don’t care.” he argues, already knowing what you’re about to say. “You feel too good. So tight f’me, princess. ‘n I’m making you feel good, yeah? Let me fuck you, stop thinking and take it.” he tells you, hips snapping harder to accentuate his point.

“Nngh—!” you moan, your nails still claw and mark at his back. He chuckles, darkly, as you draw blood. He doesn’t care, not in the least. He hadn’t expected you to be like this, but he can’t say he isn’t enjoying it. He kisses your neck as his thrusts get deeper and harsher. You feel his lips curve as you clench around him tighter.

He’s found your spot.

That perfect spot deep inside of your perfect cunt.

Your tight walls that now he’s certain were made for him to fuck. He pulls out, and it’s so brief. But the way you’re whimpering tells him how much of a good girl you are. You’re trained without even needing to cum. You’ve never been fucked so good.

After all of the sex you had with your ex, you didn’t know missionary could feel like this.

Doggy was always your favourite because it was the only time you could really feel anything with him. But this… you can feel him in your fucking throat. Your mind is blank as he pounds into you again and again at an unrelenting pace.

“Who’s making you feel good?” he mumbles into your ear. You feel close to passing out when he nibbles on your earlobe right after. Your cunt clenches and he laughs because he swears if you do that again you might actually break his cock. “Who’s fucking you so good, hm? Tell me who’s making your pretty pussy purr.”

“Y-You!” you gasp. “Oli, please! Please don’t stop.” you wail.

You can’t even feel embarrassed at the thought of anyone hearing you. Not when he’s dangling your first penetrative orgasm right in front of your face like a donkey with a hanging carrot. You mumble his name like it’s a prayer as he batters into your g-spot as if it were his soul reason for living.

“Waited too fuckin’ long for this,” he admits, the scruff of his facial hair scratches your skin as he gives you a filthy, sordid tongue kiss whilst continuing to assault the button deep within that will lead to your eventual ruin. And it’s close. It’s so fucking close and the two of you can feel it. “First time you’ve been fucked properly. That pathetic ex of yours—”

“D-Don’t,” you warn him, having no desire talking about your potential stalker when you’re so close to reaching your peak.

He grabs your face and squeezes until your lips pucker for him. Your eyes widen as he stares into them. You will listen to what he has to say, he’s making damn sure of it.

“Had a perfect pussy right in his face ‘n he didn’t know what to do with her.” he smirks. “No wonder you didn’t want him anymore.”

“Oli,” you sob. “Oli, please.”

“But I can make you cum.” he tells you. He frees your face and holds his hands under the bends of your knees. You feel every breath in your lungs escape as he folds you in half. He can’t help but laugh, not quite at your expense but it feels like that regardless. Only because he’s shocked. He can’t believe such a simple change could have you cumming so quickly for him. “Good girl, that’s it, baby.” he praises you.

“Haah, hah, aaaah! O-Oli! Mmmpf—!” you gasp, creaming around him pathetically as he drills his length in and out of you.

“I’ll make you cum t-that hard. Every fucking time, princess.” he stutters as he nears his own end. He isn’t sure, but he’s almost certain he sees your eyes cross as you cum for him. God you’re such a slut. He can’t believe you’ve been acting so coy and hard to get for so long. You’ll be addicted, now. You won’t be able to get enough now that you’ve experienced what a good fuck can really do for you. “Fuck. Fuuuuu-ck…” he finishes, still thrusting into you.

The warmth you feel coat your insides has your self esteem at an all time high. And you hate how much of a simple-minded girl you really are. As if guys won’t cum in anything they stick their dicks in if given the chance. And, still, you feel so special that Oliver Aiku chose you to be his own personal cum dump for the night.

His sweet words and ability to make you unravel make you feel more meaningful to him than you really are. He kisses you repeatedly before collapsing by your side. His seed dribbles out of your spent cunt and, now, you feel disgusting. But it doesn’t take long for him to catch his breath and move to spoon you again. He puts his softening length back inside, intent on keeping you plugged up with the goal of falling asleep like this.

“T-Thank you… Oli…” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak.

But a sweet kiss on your shoulder is all you needed from him.

“Oliver.” you whisper.

He grunts in response, and that’s all. You consider saying his name again. You consider saying it a little louder this time so he’ll hear you. But instead, you drop it. If anything, it’s probably a blessing. You raise your head a little to check where all of your belongings are. If he’s so out of it that he can’t even respond to his name, you should take the chance to sneak out before anyone can tease you about your antics.

You’re expecting an earful from Lacey. She’ll want to talk about every sordid detail. And, truthfully, you’d rather die. You’re embarrassed. You’re ashamed of yourself for even having sex on your mind when you’re dealing with a stalker.

The thought of the other guys seeing you is filling you with embarrassment, too. You know already without even seeing them that everyone knows what you did. You were so loud, both of you were. And in the moment, you didn’t care. Oliver didn’t either, but he’ll wake up not caring too.

Guys that hadn’t heard you fucking will have definitely been told by now. You’ll be greeted by smirks and torment on your way out of the frat. You should have known this would end up happening. It’s been obvious how much Oliver wanted this for a long time, and you held off, but last night you were weak.

So weak, and now you want to runaway from the scene of the crime.

You’re taken aback as you try and get out of bed but you’re pulled straight back into Oliver’s arms.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” he asks.

Fuck.

As if he couldn’t get any sexier, of course his morning voice is hot. It’s coarse and rugged and you instinctively melt back into his arms. You’ll tell him. You will tell him that you’re leaving. Right after you grind on him a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“I h-have to go,” you lie. “I’ve got things to do, Oli.”

“Mmm, don’t care. Got morning wood, feel it?” he asks. His arm snakes around your body and his palm flattens against your stomach so that your ass is pressed against his erection once again. “Can’t go ‘til you do something about it.”

“Oli I, aah, fu—! N-Not fair…” you mewl as his fingers dip into your panties and his fingers begin to play with your silky clit.

“Suck me off.” he commands, his touches on your clit become lighter and lighter until he stops completely. “I’ll finger you ‘til you’re droolin’ if you suck this cock f’me, princess.” he stuffs his wet fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself. It catches you off guard, and you sputter around them. But as he continues to finger fuck your face, you begin to mewl around his thick digits. “Good girl, just suck my cock like that.”

He reaches behind his head and throws a pillow to the ground for you. He lifts you so you’re facing him, and can’t quite believe how seamlessly he manages to carry and move you exactly where he wants.

And then you remember, he’s experienced.

He sits on the edge of the bed whilst your legs are wrapped around his waist as you make out. He bites your lip and encourages you to drop to the ground. You nod, reluctantly, worried that you won’t be able to give the performance he’s hoping for.

But regardless, he watches as you move the pillow across the floor and between his feet so you can kneel on it.

You whimper a little as your legs widen as you kneel, feeling last nights ejaculate slowly drip out of you and onto his fresh, pristine pillow. He doesn’t care, though. His dick is soaked from your cunt and his pre. And it’s all you can think about as he lightly slaps it against your nose and lips.

Your jaw loosens and your mouth is a perfect ‘O’ shape for him to slot into. His fingers lace through your hair as he slowly lowers you onto his cock. You hadn’t noticed in the dark, but he’s uncircumcised. You’ve never seen a dick like his before.

Your hand wraps around his length as you take him into your mouth, but you soon pull away again. You can’t believe how much easier it is to work someone with foreskin.

He smirks, seeing the thoughts go through your head. He’s so sensitive and receptive and you’re clueless. He’s practically putty in your hands and yet you think he’s the one in control. You’re so cute and naïve.

He loves girls like you.

“Suck it, princess.” he commands. “S’not a toy, y’know. Suck my dick clean.”

You clear your throat before sinking down onto his length once again, finding a steady rhythm to suck and lick and take him down your throat. He’s average length, but he’s girthy. It’s hard to take, honestly. Compared to your pencil-dicked ex, your eyes are watering and you’re doing anything and everything not to choke or gag.

He sees it, too, he’s got a perfect view as he tugs at your hair to make sure you’re keeping eye contact with him as you suck him dry.

“That’s a good slut,” he smirks through a heavy breath. “Take this dick, jus’ like that…” he continues.

Your thighs squeeze together as he degrades you. You don’t like it, you don’t like that you’ve become a slut after being his princess. But at the same time, you love it. You want to hear it again. So you take him deeper. And deeper.

“Such a dumb girl letting that loser ex of yours stick his dick in you.” he says, licking his lips as he pushes your head lightly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as the pressure of his hand intensifies until your nose brushes against brunette curls, and then squishes against his pubis. “And now he’s stalking you… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were sucking this cock?” he asks, his voice breathy and desperate as his hips start to buck.

You try to pull away, but the barely trying effort of his hand keeping you in place is somehow stronger. He coos as you stutter, struggling to breathe through the desperation.

“Breathe through your nose, stupid.” he tells you. “Good cock makes pretty girls like you real dumb.” he smiles.

He yanks at your hair until you’re fully removed from his cock. Pre and dribble pools from your mouth as you gasp desperately. You want to be mad at him, you want to tell him not to speak to you like that.

But you can’t.

Not when his lips are on yours and you feel yourself getting off from the idea of him tasting himself on your tongue. You’re breathless and out of words when he breaks it momentarily, and the sound of tacky masturbation is like a tidal wave in your ears.

“My pretty little slut, aren’t you?” he asks, kissing you again before you can answer. You can’t answer when your head is so empty. Is that really what you are? It doesn’t matter, you suppose. He’s already decided for you. “God, don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you think you deserve better than being a stupid slut for me?”

His face contorts as he jerks himself harder and faster. You’re too busy thinking about his question to notice, though. You suck his tip into your mouth before he forces you away. His intimidating glare telling you that he’s looking for an answer this time.

“M-Maybe…” you pout, eyes wet and wide as you wonder aloud. Do you deserve better? Isn’t this all your good for? He’ll keep you safe, at least. He seems to like you more than any other girl on campus. He’s the best fuck you’ve ever had and you’re way more into him than you’d ever let on.

And just the as word leaves your lips, he’s moaning boisterously. Your face painted in white, pearly cum. A showing of just how much worth you have in his eyes. It feels almost endless as he gives you a full facial, hissing as it drips from your eyelash and into your eye.

He scrapes some of it from your face and force feeds it into your mouth.

You’re disgusting, too, because you suck without question.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” he laughs. He lifts you up from the ground and tosses you onto the bed with little care. You almost want to cry from the stinging sensation you feel in your eye. You should have left when you had the chance. Instead you’re starting off the morning and Oliver Aiku’s cum rag. You don’t feel much better when he throws your shorts at you. “Clean yourself up.”

You try your best, focusing the material around your eye area as you try to do some sort of damage control. You see him tuck his dick into his sweats with your unaffected eye, and he swaggers towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’ll get you a towel, wait here.” he tells you.

He hastens down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. The frat is bare, he suspects most of the guys must still be in bed. Though as soon as he rounds the corner, he notices Eita sitting at the kitchen table. They share a knowing smirk, silently celebrating the fact that Oliver finally got what he wanted out of you.

Oliver pours himself a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter as he crunches it between his teeth. Eita looks up from his phone after a few moments of silence and finally speaks.

“Did you fuck her, then? Or—”

“Fucked her stupid. ‘n she sucked me off this morning.” he smirks, slurping the milk on his spoon as he thinks about your pretty face covered in his seed. “All thanks to you, my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eita laughs, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and igniting it with a lighter from his pocket.

“No no, really, thank you.” he laughs, “I got to be her knight in shining armour when you called her last night. She was so easy to fuck after that.” he grins, holding a fist out for him to bump. Eita chuckles, trading which hand holds his cigarette before returning the gesture.

“You’re such a sick fuck.” Eita laughs, scrolling through his phone. “Look,” he shows his screen to Oliver. He can only laugh when he sees yet another article about the psycho serial killer that has made your anxiety worse than it already would be with a stalker on the loose.

“I’m not the one killing girls, am I?” Oliver comments, “Just scaring one girl with some heavy breathing.” he shrugs.

Even he isn’t twisted enough to think whoever this local serial killer is isn’t completely fucked up. But he can’t deny that it started happening at the perfect time. After he set his plan in motion to be your stalker. After he planted a seed in your mind that he’d always be there for you if you needed him. He’d always protect you no matter what happened, and he wasn’t about to let this stalker get to you.

You fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. You’re even starting to suspect your stupid limp dick ex because he told you to suspect him. Oliver Aiku, the guy who’s always around when you need him most. The guy who’s always just a phone call or text message away. The guy who’s always offered to be by your side and jump in harms way to protect you.

Oliver wasn’t even on your radar.

Perfect Oliver.

Sweet Oliver.

© 2024 rinhaler

[mandy-asimp]

Shut up and Dance!

Aaron Hotchner x fem! Reader.

No warnings (shocker I feel)

Just something slight

Hailey and Jack don't exsist for this

Heavily influenced by this songs

"Nah, listen. I want me a man who's going to give me everything. I want to be worshipped. I want to be adored. I want to be his every waking thought. Like I want him to think of cheating and then knowing how dumb that would be," Y/n sat at the dinner table.

"So you want a fictional man?" Emily came to the table, sitting on the same side as Y/n. The two blondes across sharing a look.

"Listen, finding the right man takes time. I didn't meet will till our late twenties. You still have time. Plus me and Will aren't even married." The blonde sighed. "I mean honestly, I get it's about finding the time, but I don't know if he's planning to propose ever."

"Kevin hasn't even asked me to be his girlfriend." Penelope huffed. "It's so obvious I want to be dating, but every time we go out and there's an opening, he misses it."

Emily took a sip of her drink with a smile, "told you, you're looking for a fictional man."

Y/n gave a head shake and let her head hang in defeat. "One day, there will be a man. But until then I'll be your single gal."

"Cheers to that!" Emily raised her glass. Listening as the others laughed and met her glass. Everyone downing the small fruity drinks. "And hey think about it, if you don't find someone, I'm sure Hotch would humor you!"

The joke made a small smile appear, "that's just wrong." Was all Y/n said. Thankful for when their phones dinged with a case. "So much for a break. This is what, the fifth case with no real break?"

"Serial killers never respect our time." Penelope frowned.

Each three down a twenty and got into their cars. Driving back to the bureau in a line, following Emily.

Once they got there, they started the debrief. "Sorry to call you all back. I know we haven't gotten a chance to breathe yet but let's keep focus." Hotch had walked in, the folders in hand before passing them around and taking his seat next to Y/n.

"Right so, this is Delilah Pence. She and three other woman were found with several stab wounds to their torsos. They have bruises from being physically abused." He began covering what he had memorized.

Reid furrowed his brows, "what makes this were we need to cover it?"

That's when the photos were revealed. "Oh...is that..." JJ and Emily were closely examining the pictures together.

Y/n looked over to Hotch, personally finding the M.O to be a bit obvious. "I'd say it's a woman or an insecure man."

"Either or, wheels up in thirty." He dismissed, hoping that would give everyone time to get their go-bags together.

~~~

The case was over within a week, but it was still tiring. Everyone was helping pack up the files and papers.

"I don't know about you guys, but I could use a night out. Really just release all of the work that's been building up." Y/n put the box on the table, watching as Penelope scribbled a name onto the cardboard.

The sheriff had walked in, "There's a good club in town. They're usually packed on Friday nights but I'm sure I could make some arrangements. A thank you. They're know for dancing though." She offered, taking it as a yes as everyone's face lit up. She nodded and left, making her phone call.

"Let's run back to the hotel rooms and change before, get a fresh feeling." Derek smirked while grabbing his coat and leading everyone out.

By ten, the team was at a nice table and on their fifth round.

"Oh this is such a good song!" Penelope geeked before dragging everyone to the floor. Hotch and Rossi somehow managing to stay behind.

Hotch hadn't really drank much, knowing she only would drink half of her drinks, he finished the rest. "So when are you gonna propose to her?" Rossi peaked interest in the two's relationship.

"We've been busy for a few weeks. We also always wanted to make sure we were stable before making any big commitments." He explained, his eyes never leaving her.

Rossi smiled slightly, "and now? What's the excuse? You're both stable financially, you're both still young. What if she wants kids? You're at the perfect age you two."

"Maybe soon. I have a ring, she sketched it in high school. It's crazy to think we went to same high school but met in college." He began to think of how Y/n and him met.

Rossi bobbed his head, "yes I've heard very lightly of this story. From both perspectives."

Hotch cracked a smile. "She loves telling it. She tells it better as well. She'd be a great mother with how she can tell a story." He felt a tug at his heart at the thought.

Y/n, the mother of his kids. A little family. He knew she wanted kids, she talked about it for years. Her eyes always sparkling with how she planned her future.

"She's good for you Aaron." Rossi finalized before going to order a few shots of whiskey. Not taking more than ten minutes to get back.

He had ordered a few for whoever came back to the table. Not being surprised when it was Y/n and Reid who came back.

"Genius, you're definitely taking a shot. It'll help warm up your body." Y/n giggled in her tipsy state. "I'll take one with you."

Reid was going to pass the deal, but he figured...one can't hurt right? "Fine."

And they both shot back the dark liquor and both made a face. Earning laughs from the other four as they came back to the table as well.

"Tired already?" Hotch joked as they all took their seats again.

The song had switched over, and Y/n concealed her excitement. Wanting to wait for the perfect moment before whisking Aaron away to the dance floor. Pleased when he hadn't noticed the song.

"No, we just saw a party of shots and wanted to get in on it." Emily pointed to the shots that were empty.

"Plus when someone couldn't keep up with us on the floor," Derek pointed towards Y/n. Making fun of how she was the first one to walk off.

Aaron smiled a bit more, "you're holding back?" He glanced over to Y/n who was already looking at him. Mischief in her eyes as she grabbed his arm and rushed him to the floor.

"Shut up and dance with me," she laughed as they easily fell into the song. Dancing like they did when they were young.

Meanwhile the team was abso-fucking-lutely baffled. "For how long?" Penelope almost screamed to Rossi. Growing a bit more upset when the man just took a sip of his drink.

And for the song they watched as the two danced around as if they weren't being watched. Watching as their boss laughed once the song ended.

"When they come back, you ask no questions. Let them just be open tonight on their terms." Rossi pointed to the children. "Especially you," he looked to Garcia.

"Oh, come on Rossi! They kept a little secret and we wanna know more, what's the harm?" Derek tried to reason, only getting a disapproving head shake in return. "Well drop it for now! But they better know they have a long list of questions, she's never even posted anything to give us a hint. And she post a lot."

"Maybe it's new?" Reid shrugged the idea out. The conversation dropped as they watched you both leave hand in hand. "Maybe it's not. Where do you think they're going?"

"I bet we'll find out in the morning." Emily wiggled her eyebrows and shimmied her shoulders. "I can't believe it still. Just before the case she was taking about being single!"

JJ stared at the table as she thought. Realizing there was only one glass between the two the entire night and nobody noticed. "They shared drinks all night..." she pointed out. Making everyone count the drinks.

"So we know they're sneaky, that means this could've been happening." Penelope frowned, desperate for more information.

Derek suddenly thought. "Do they live together?"

"Are you serious?!" Penelope shot her head over to Rossi, praying he'd let this one detail up.

He shook his head again, "if I buy the another round will you all drop it?"

They agreed and their night went on. While Aaron and Y/n walked through the city and took in the light.

She held on his arm, stealing his warmth as they moved. Her mind thinking of how this is what she waited for. To be walking with the love of her life at night. The violin player in the park leading them to an even beautifuler sight.

Aaron couldn't help how she made him feel. It was almost instinct to spin her around and slowly dance around.

Y/n let out a few laughs at the actions. "Let me record so I can show our kids one day." She had smiled through the sentence. Propping the phone up against her bag and hitting record.

And they continued to dance. Aaron could tell she wanted to kiss him right there, but she was fighting against it. She had to pick between kissing him or enjoying the dance a little longer. "You're holding back." Would bring her back to the reality of it all.

Her smile would grow instantly at him. "Shut up and dance with me," she would respond and they would dance. Moving together with each note and laughing.

Once the player ended, Y/n moved to get cash for them. Dropping a ten into the case and turning back to...Aaron?

He was on one knee and fidgeting with a black box. "I love you beyond words." He started.

"Yes." Y/n choked out. Feeling to euphoric to even let him get everything out. Listening as he let out that carefree laugh. The one that speaks nothing bad could happen.

"I want you to be the mother of our kids, my forever. Since the dance in college. You grabbed my arm and I could only think about you being my destiny. I didn't let you go from there on out. Marry me?" He grinned as she bobbed her head. Accepting the ring and pulling him into a long, tearful, kiss.

She sniffled, "does this mean I get my big wedding? And we can also tell the team? And we can have the dream nursery?" She looked up at him. Feeling so love and happy.

Aaron nodded, "all our dreams are in our hands now. And I think they're waiting for a post of where we went." He reminded her of the bar, watching as her eyes went wide.

"I love you," she sighed. Feeling so content with life.

"I love you too," he leaned down to place a peck to her lips. "Penelope is going to be furious."

She chuckled, then thought about it, then full belly laughed. Even while grabbing her purse and phone, she was laughing. "I'll send her the video before posting it," she planned. "Let's just enjoy what time we have."

~~~

Awhile had passed, and the two had sent out their invitations to family, but wanted to give the team their invites in creative ways. Especially with the wedding only a week away.

The two had managed to plan everything else out and still keep their relationship quiet. Had played it like they were only a month dating when the team found out.

They first started with Rossi. Y/n had went into his office first. "Hey you know how to tell if jewelry's real or not right? I mean I can I just want a second opinion." She held out her hand to Rossi. Showing the ring off and he just laughed.

"It was the night at the bar wasn't it?" He sat up to really take in the ring. Just then Aaron came in. "You did well; so when's the wedding?" The invite got slid over, both smiling. "I think I can get something together by then. Does Strauss know?"

"We got the entire day covered. If any case appears, it's redirected for a short time." Aaron informed. "You just have to show up."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, congrats." He stood up. Exchanging kisses to both their cheeks.

Their next person was Reid. Who was with JJ at the time. They figured giving them both theirs wouldn't hurt.

Only Y/n did this one. "Someone looks happy." JJ felt her own smile form. That looks was familiar, and before y/n could even get it out, JJ already knew. She began to geek before the invitation was placed down.

"Wait, but didn't you two just start dating like six months ago?" Reid read over the paper. Enjoying how well put together it was.

Y/n bit her lip. "Listen. We met in college, and by my second year and his graduating year, we started dating." She confessed, trying to not laugh at how the jaws hit the floor. "Shhh! We haven't told Derek, Penelope, or Emily yet. But just know the day is already covered for us."

And they agreed to be there, talking about it even after she left them to continue the spread the invite.

It wasn't until the late lunch she went out with the two. Sitting across from them in the booth she could only smile. The entire time, she just had this smile they couldn't decipher.

"Alright listen, you've been smiling all lunch. So what is it? You and boss man finally said 'I love you'?" He made kissy noises. Gaining a laugh from Emily.

Y/n said nothing, instead she slid two even lips over with a straight face. It was hard as the two became mildly confused. They asked a few times what this was but once realizing they had to open it, they were shocked.

"But..." Emily looked up, eyes widening at the sight of the engend ring. "Holy shit! Boss man must really love you!"

Y/n was back to smiling again, "since college" was all she whispered. Her eyes shinning while looking at the ring. She couldn't help the scream of excitement, "I'm getting married!" She cried out. The restaurant laughing at her excitement.

Derek furrowed his brows while looking at the ring. "So you've been keeping him a secret?" He scoffed, really not knowing how they pulled it off. "How were you that sneaky?"

She winked and went back to eating. "We already have the day converted for everyone. It's gonna be good, promise."

The three talked a little more about the topic before heading back. Being greeted by an unhappy tech analysis.

"I would've liked an invite!" She stomped off. Feeling left out from the fun. She mumbled things to herself as Y/n followed. Letting it all out once the door closed. "I mean honestly! You guys are on cases together and I only get so much time with you all-"

"Penelope, I have something for you." Y/n cut her off. The pink envelop in hand now. "It's just something slight, nothing too extreme."

The blonde turned, almost glaring at the envelop. "It better be good. Not inviting me to lunch..." she shook her head as she opened it. There was a silence as she read over the car. "What?"

"Surprise!" Y/n shook her hands. The ring catching the attention. Her hand was yanked, "and another thing since we're laying out everything, it hasn't been six months. It's been seven years."

"Are you serious?" Penelope felt her mouth just hang open. "This is less than a week away, what about taking time off? What am I supposed to wear? Who's your bridesmaid?!"

"All of that is covered. We talked to Strauss awhile back when we had a date planned. And as for you, I was hoping as my best friend, you would be my bridesmaid? I have a dress picked and it's been tailored, but all you have to do-"

"Yes!" She screamed. Giving a home crushing hug. "But I swear to it if you get pregnant and don't tell me, we will be having issues." Her threat was serious and you knew it. But she pulled back and looked you in the eyes. "You're getting married."

"I'm getting married." Y/n repeated, a wide grin on her face as they jumped up and down.

~

Y/n stood behind the door. This was it. She couldn't help but beam. Glowing with severe happiness and an overwhelming sense of joy.

The music began and the doors opened. And she let one foot lead one after the other. She could hear gasps as she came down but she only saw one man. Her Aaron. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes before she even made it down.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." the wedding officiants voice faded out as she and Aaron held a silent conversation.

Both coming back once it was time for the vows. "Aaron?" He handed over the floor.

She watched the tall man unfold his paper. "I knew from the first day we met you were going to be the one. You had saw me sitting there at the dance and a song had come on. It was fairly new at the time, but I could tell you knew that it would never get old. You ran over, grabbed my arms and pulled me to the dance floor and just started dancing around me. I was confused at first, shocked a bit more. How could someone be so care free in this world? You then stopped dancing and I made the joke you were holding back, and your response was something I never would forget." His voice wavered a bit as he looked up into her eyes. Knowing this was right. "You had said, shut up and dance with me. I swore in that moment that I would do anything to make you happy. I'm lucky it was you who kissed me first otherwise I would've dodged around it forever."

She laughed at this, "you missed every opportunity," her laugh was soggy. Tears snuck down her face the entire time.

Aaron shook his head with a smile, "even if I did, we got to where we wanted to be. I stand here today, with you, my best friend, the love of my life, the mother to my children one day, and mostly, my wife."

"Now Y/n," the mic was handed over.

She unfolded the paper, "The day I pictured finding my forever actually happened in the workplace. Where I would've found someone whose schedule lines with mine. And we would have all the time together. But then I met you in college. And I remember when you had said I was holding back, and I couldn't contain the adrenaline and just hopped you wouldn't think I was weird. Also because I was watching you for the entire night praying no girl would walk up to you before I could get the courage. After that night, we had seen each other almost everywhere. We got to talking and I thought, man. This man. You weren't like anyone I ever met."

"It was the beginning of college," he reminded. Laughing a little at the scoff and mumble.

"Yeah, but still. My freshman year I went quiet to focus on the basics, but by the second year I found you. My motivation, the one that kept pushing through to be a lawyer. We build each other up in the best ways. We kept each other going when we needed it the most and by the time we made it to the FBI , our life was set together for the best. Then it took you longer to still propose, but besides all that. You did. My love. My heart. My man. My husband. The father of my kids, I love you beyond what I can write. Also because I ran out of space, quite literally squeezing this, but I'm overwhelmed with love for you." She finished, wiping away tears carefully. Mumbling a thank you once Aaron handed her his handkerchief.

~

"Do you Aaron Hotchner, take Y/n L/n, in sickness and in health, to be you lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Y/n L/n, take Aaron Hotchner, in sickness and in health, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Them by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Cheers erupted as he did so. The two officially becoming Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner.

~

Everyone was on the dance floor now. Enjoying the company of each other and celebrating the newly weds. That's when the song came on again.

Aaron was over with his family as Y/n was talking with the team. But she was quick to leave them and run to find her husband.

Spotting him from the crowd already looking for her. Her toothy smile showed as she ran and grabbed his arm. Suddenly the room was just them.

They danced around each other as the music played. Getting closer once it slowed a bit more. "You're holding back," he looked lovingly down to her.

Her eyes twinkled with the same love. Tears came to her eyes, "shut up and dance with me," she whispered to him.

They shared one more kiss before the room came back to join them in dancing. Laughter filled the room almost instantly.

It was everything the couple had hoped for.

[moonlightspencie]

takes one to know one

Part 7 of ‘the sweetest con’

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: hotch gets a little owie in this one

<- LAST PART

We sat on the jet, nothing else to be said about the case that we hadn’t already discussed. 

We were traveling across the country to Wyoming on account of a hunter wreaking havoc on a small town. I decided to take a seat away from the crowd after we’d finished talking and divvying up assignments for when we landed. I looked over our case files again, but was distracted a few minutes into it by her laughter. 

I glanced up, an involuntary twitch of my lips almost giving way to a smile. She hit Morgan on the arm playfully, shaking her head. He looked at the others sitting with them, hoping they’d back up whatever claim he’d leveled at her. 

I looked away again, trying hard to not to show that everything she did made me want to smile. Until I heard my name. 

I quirked a brow as I looked up again, seeing Morgan and Emily looking away from me just as quickly. She kept her eyes on me the whole time, however, only smirking when I looked back with questioning eyes. 

“Something I should know?” I asked in their general direction. 

“Nothing you want to know,” JJ said with a laugh, popping her head over the seat to see me. 

“You four aren’t allowed to sit together anymore,” I noted, looking back at the files with my mind elsewhere. 

Reid snorted at the comment, silently continuing to read his book across from Dave. 

“That rule should have been established a long time ago,” Dave noted, pulling a smile from me. 

Emily turned around. “Can’t help if we’re curious. Why was your car at the building all night last week?” 

JJ tried quietly reprimanding her for the question, but she didn’t back down. 

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying not to let on that it was a question that made me very nervous. 

“Your car didn’t move the night after the last case. It was in the same spot the next morning, and you came into work with Y/N,” she said matter-of-factly.

I glared at Dave for a moment. He raised his hands in surrender. 

“They pulled it out of me,” he said, a smirk on his face. 

“Plus,” Emily continued, “She won’t tell us what happened and it is making the whole situation way more suspicious.”

I sighed. “This is not an appropriate conversation to be having when we’re supposed to be focused on chasing down a serial killer.”

Everyone looked at me with blank faces. All but the woman who still wore that smirk. Luckily for me, nobody else seemed to notice that she seemed almost proud of herself. 

I followed behind as Reid, JJ, and Y/N walked into the precinct. The others had already gone off to interview the few families of victims who were available at the time. 

Usually I had a relatively easy time separating my work life and personal life, but I couldn’t get the possibility of being found out from my head. 

I greeted the police chief and let him lead us to the room set aside for the team. 

I hadn’t thought I was being obvious about the crush I had on her, but it seemed the others were beginning to pick up on it. I hoped she would remain blissfully ignorant. 

JJ prepped to handle a very nosey reporter. She was committed to her favorite phrase: “no comment”. 

If she was aware, it certainly didn’t seem to worry her. She was all smiles when the team was trying to get information out of her. I knew I shouldn’t look into that too much. 

“Hotch.”

She had a sweet voice. I’d hate her to stop speaking to me if my secret got out. I couldn’t handle it. 

“Hotch?”

I snapped out of it as I stood at the table, staring blankly at the map Reid had set up. She was looking at me like I’d grown a second head. She was much closer than I’d realized, too. Close enough to reach a hand out to touch my arm. 

“Are you feeling alright?” She looked so cute when she was concerned. “You seem pretty clocked out right now.”

I cleared my throat. “I might just need a glass of water. I’ll be alright.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” she said, guiding me into a chair. I felt completely brainless. “I’ll go get you that water.”

I nodded, partially aware of what she was saying, and painfully aware that I needed to get a grip. I took a few deep breaths, coming back to myself. I had to get it under control, and I was determined that I’d do it immediately. I straightened in my chair, putting on my work face again. 

She came back, handing me the water, watching as I quickly downed it. 

“Thank you,” I nodded curtly.

She nodded back. “You’re okay?”

“I am. I was just feeling a little out of it,” I said, standing back up. 

She didn’t move. I took the initiative to put space between us, getting a brow raise from her. 

“Okay,” she said, suspicious. “If you need anything, I’ll be here, you know?”

“I know,” I accepted her offer. 

She watched me for another moment, then nodded to herself and walked back to Reid. I huffed out a hard breath, then got to work. 

We got a call a few hours later from Dave. 

“What’s up, Rossi,” she greeted, putting the phone on speaker. 

“A lot, kid. We think we have a lead, but we’ve got to move it quickly.”

I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re right, he’s on the way to his next victim right now.”

I sighed hard. “Okay. Go ahead and start over with the others. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I’ll have Garcia send you the address.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

She hung up the phone, standing straight. 

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, beginning to walk out of the room. 

I quickly moved towards her, catching her arm. 

“You’re staying here with Reid.” 

“Why?” she questioned, annoyance already lacing her voice. 

I raised a brow in surprise. “Because I am your unit chief and I gave you an order. I don’t need to explain myself.”

She scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re staying.”

I pushed past her to step into the hallway. 

“Being friends doesn’t mean you treat me differently,” she said after a beat. 

I stopped in my tracks. I turned slowly, jaw clenched. 

“This is not the time, nor the place. We’ll talk later,” I said, my tone indicative of a final warning. 

I drove fast towards the destination, the vest on me already feeling suffocating. The last thing I needed to be thinking about was a minor argument when I was supposed to be making it to my team. I had too much going on in my life in general. A divorce. Not being able to see my kid. The stress of the job. I didn’t need to be worried about her being annoyed at me. That wasn’t important in that moment. 

I tried to shake it off, pulling next to the cars that were now empty in front of the cabin. I unholstered my gun, following after where the team had said they were going. A minute before I arrived, they called to say they were heading into the house before they checked out the barn.

I walked up the old steps, going in through the open door. I checked my surroundings every time I stepped into a new space. I heard the creak of a floorboard in the kitchen, slowly turning into the room on high alert. 

I stiffened as a saw a figure, though I quickly let out a breath when it was a figure I recognized. 

Morgan visibly relaxed when he saw that it was me, nodding at me when I gestured towards the door next to me. I turned to open the door, but felt a hard shove. I fell to the ground, immediately fighting against the man on top of me. I got one good hit to his face before I heard a gunshot ring out. 

He fell limp on top of me, and Morgan ran over to push him off. I moved to get up, letting out a groan at a hot pain in my side. My hand flew to the area that caused the pain, and I looked down in horror when I realized it was wet. 

“You’re hurt,” Morgan commented quickly, dropping to his knees next to me. 

He helped me to lay back down, taking off his jacket to prop up my head. 

“He stabbed me,” I muttered out in shock. “I didn’t see a knife.”

Rossi, Prentiss, and one local officer ran in, freezing for a moment before starting to call orders for another ambulance. I heard something about the victim being found in an upstairs bedroom, but my focus was shot even more than it had been earlier. The next several hours were a blur. I got a ride to the hospital, hearing murmurs about the amount of blood I’d lost. I stayed awake until they put me under for surgery, worried that the knife had hit internal organs. 

When I finally woke up in an unfamiliar bed wearing a gown, my first reaction was annoyance. 

“What am I doing here?” I said, voice hoarse. 

I heard a rustling, looking over to whoever was in the room with me. She lifted her head from the side of the bed, eyes wide. 

“You’re an idiot,” she breathed out, standing to hug me. 

I accepted, wrapping an arm around her. I breathed in deeply, annoyance fading into a thankful feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, sighing softly. 

She didn’t let go, quietly holding me for a while longer. The smell of her shampoo was a comfort, and I let my eyes close until she sat back down. 

“He was like a centimeter away from causing some serious internal bleeding. If you had died I would have brought you back just to kill you myself,” she said, trying hard to be mad at me. 

I was too tired to not smile at her. Her face betrayed her, a small smile pulling at her lips as she watched me. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said quietly. 

“You’re lucky. I just switched with Derek an hour ago,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her. Her eyes were a little glassy still. “What happened?”

“He caught me off guard—��

“Hotch.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why didn’t you let me go with you?”

“You couldn’t have stopped this from happening. It could’ve been you.”

She sighed hard. “If it was, that’s the job. It’s what I signed up for. Not sitting at the precinct when you could have used backup.”

“Morgan was there when it happened. I wasn’t alone.”

“I still would’ve had your back.”

“Y/N—“

“No,” she stopped me. “Why did you make me stay?”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s not how this works, Aaron,” she said, trying to stop her voice from raising any higher. 

I paused, unsure what to say next. She huffed out another breath. 

“You can’t treat me differently. It’s not fair to me or anyone else. You wouldn’t have made anyone else stay behind like that. I always come with in those situations.”

“I know.”

“Every time something like that has happened in the past, I went. Why did it change this time? That’s not fair.”

“It isn’t, you’re right.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t explain that.”

“Yes, you can,” she said, desperation in her voice. “You can. You just don’t want to.”

“I have too much going on right now for this,” I said, my eyes closing tightly. 

“For me, you mean?”

“No.”

“For what, then?” she asked, scooting in closer. “Because it seems a whole lot like you’re trying to convince yourself to stay away from me and I don’t get why. If it was because of the job, that’d be one thing. But I know it isn’t. You could have died today and you still won’t be honest with me.”

I kept my eyes firmly squeezed shut. I knew I couldn’t run from this anymore, but I wished I had more time. I couldn’t explain my feelings to myself, let alone to anybody else. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally got out in a small voice. “I don’t want things to change.”

“You don’t?”

I opened my eyes, seeing her looking back at me with a questioning gaze. She almost looked hurt, and I felt immediately guilty. 

“There’s been so much changing.”

“I know.”

“You’re always there for me. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You think I’d stop?”

“I’m worried you would.”

She swallowed, not taking her eyes off me. I felt her take my hand in hers. 

“Why would I do that?”

I paused. “I don’t know. I’m just—“

“You don’t have to be afraid of me going anywhere,” she said, brushing her thumb over my knuckles. “I’m not the one who runs around getting stabbed.”

I laughed lightly, but quickly stopped, feeling the pain in my side. 

“Oh,” she cooed, a small smile on her face as she watched me put a hand to my side. “Do you need more meds?”

“I’ll be okay. You’re just now allowed to make me laugh anymore.”

She chuckled. “Maybe I should’ve kept Derek in here, then.”

I smiled. “Maybe.”

She was quiet for a minute, reaching her hand up meet the other as it caressed my own. 

“We have to talk about this, you know?” she said softly. 

“Can I just have a little more time?”

She nodded. “Only if you promise me two things.”

“Anything,” I said quickly. 

She smiled again, looking away from our hands and back at me. I sighed, somehow feeling perfectly content with her, even in circumstances like these. 

“That you’ll stop treating me differently, for one.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“And,” she added, “That we’ll have a real, sit-down conversation about this. Soon.”

I let out a breath, taking a moment to appreciate her still tracing patterns on my hand with her own. She felt soft and real and wonderful. I admired her for a moment, letting my eyes linger on her face. She seemed to already know what I needed to say, so there was no use in hiding it anymore. Not when we were alone. 

“I promise.”

NEXT PART ->

—————

the sweetest con taglist:

@evee87 @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @rousethemouse @lalalove-56

aaron hotchner taglist:

@mrs-ssa-hotch @hyunjaebaby @ssamorganhotchner @criminalskies @simp4olderm3n

[scaredcacticle]

Flowers For Men

Bo Sinclair x F!Reader 🔥

Bo’s date makes an unforgettable first impression

“Dammit, sir can you help me,” you ask the man in the same aisle as you.

“Wh-Oh hey pretty girl what can I go for you,” he replies looking you up and down.

“That’s cute, can you please help me out,” you laugh.

“Hey you don’t even know my name,” he replies, an expectant look on his face.

“Fine what’s your name, mines Y/N,” you giggle.

“Names Bo. Now what is a pretty girl like you doing in a dirty shop like this?” he asks as he walks closer.

“Broken fan belt sadly, anyway you can help?”

“Heh… Yeah I can help you get one but only if I get a date in return”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah really”

With a smile you can’t help but ask him for a pen and paper. He wasn’t bad looking either, quite the opposite actually. Nice chocolate hair, strong arms visible underneath his mechanics suit, and very strong looking hands.

As you walked with him and got your things you couldn’t help but stare at his body. The sweltering heat had his clothes sticking to him showing every muscle in his back.

“Thank you for helping me”

“No problem doll. This a real number ain’t it”

“Of course it is but don’t open it until I leave. No questions just do it”

“Alright”

As you both part ways Bo opens the paper. It’s your number with a time and date at a diner in town. He smiles to himself and heads home, trying to convince himself he won’t be counting down the days until he sees you again.

________

“Hey,” Bo hears from behind him, that all to familiar sweet voice hitting his ears once again. As he turns he has to all but catch his jaw.

He’s a simple man with simple tastes. The simple jean shorts that hug your thighs ever so tightly and your low cut top has his all of his blood going south.

“Hey doll you look real good,” he says , eyes tracing your breasts over and over again.

“Glad you like my top but I also have a gift for you,” you laugh, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind you.

As you set them down Bo stays sitting in silence, mouth open in disbelief.

“Aww cmon now darlin’ men don’t get flowers,” he says covering his face to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey when we talked on the phone you said yourself ‘men never get flowers until they’re dead’ and I plan on giving you a lot more than flowers before you’re dead,” you say leaning over the table between the two of you, making sure your chest is on full display for him.

For the first time in a long time Bo was absolutely stunned. The woman in front of him had him enamored and he needed her. All of her.

As the date continued you and Bo laughed and laughed until the diner closed. Time passing by the both of you in the blink of an eye.

“Can I come back to your place?” You ask as soon as you both leave the diner making Bo stop.

“What?” he laughs ,” I thought I would be the one to ask”

“But you’re not asking fast enough,” all smiles gone from your face, you step up to him. Your face inches from his.

“Y-yeah I mean I was just making sure you wanted to”

“Of course I am”

“Let’s go then”

————

“So where’s your house?” You ask, taking your jacket off.

“Really? That’s all I get after all that teasing at the diner,” Bo laughs , sitting a not so sly hand on your thigh.

“Hey I gotta make sure you’re not a serial killer or something,” you giggle crossing your legs over his hand.

“Well I own my own shop in Ambrose and a wax museum run by my brother and I”

“Nice”

And with that you give him shorter and shorter replies. At some point he’d wondered if you’d fallen asleep, sometimes not answering him at all. Until he pulled up into Ambrose.

“You alrig-“ he starts to ask before your lips are on his and for the first time he has to push a woman off.

“Woah doll that’s what you’ve been planning huh. Let’s go inside”

“Nope. Let’s do it right here in the open who’s gonna see?”

He thinks you’re a woman after his own heart and before he can even think about it he’s on you.

Hands and lips wandering and rubbing all over you. His hands come under your top and in one swift motion he rips it off of you. Breasts now exposed to the cool air of Ambrose.

Like a man starved his mouth is all over your chest. Squeezing and licking your nipples with a hand to your throat. After making quick work of his pants his hands travel to yours and he does the same.

And right before he can do anything you whip around and fall to your knees. It felt like pure ecstasy to Bo, the warm cavern of your mouth feeling like our ecstasy on his member. But Bo isn’t one to lose control so easily, swiftly grabbing your head forcing you down on him over and over again and right before his climax he pulls you off.

Dragging you to the back of his truck he open the bed and throws you over it stuffing himself inside of you. Wasting no time he rams into you hitting every spot you never could.

“That’s right you’re my little slut aren’t you?” He grunts into your ear, hands tightening around your throat.

“Yes, yes I’m your little fucking slut!” You scream, waves and waves of pleasure rushing over you. But Bo keeps going ramming himself into you harder and harder until he unloads inside of you. Using you like his fuckdoll he keeps going until he’s completely empty.

As he pulls always he looks at the beauty of what he’d done. You’re a mess with his cum dripping down your legs and hair a mess.

“You wanna stay the night doll?” He laughs, wiping the remnants of himself off of you.”

And with your nod he picks you up and carries you to his bedroom.

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Ella - Pt. 1

In which Spencer meets a pretty school teacher named Ella

Spencer Reid x fem!Oc

Overall warnings: swearing, you probably getting second-hand embarrassed, children (4th and 5th graders lol), some mentions of sex in later parts, some mentions of molestation and rape (not the on oc), lmk if anything was missed :)

P.S. I know I have way too many fics abt Spencer but... he's just so fun to write about and to make fics for and I also had this sitting in my drafts so... yep :)

Emma Watson and Matthew Gray Gubler as Ella Thomas and Spencer Reid

An SUV pulled up in front of the house. The next victim's house.

Spencer and Luke hopped out of the car hoping that they weren't too late. They both pulled their guns from their holsters and rushed up to the house. The team was hunting a serial killer who was murdering young teachers. As a boy, his teacher would hit and molest him after school when she was "helping" him. Chuck Jared was his name.

Reid moved out of the way to let Luke test the door knob tos ee if the front door to the house was open. It was so he quietly pushed it open. They heard faint sniffles followed by words.

"No. That's not right. Remember you have to carry the five." It was a feminine voice. The woman was calm yet scared at the same time.

Luke looked at Spencer with furrowed eyebrows before they followed the voice into the kitchen. A woman with shoulder length brown hair that was half pinned and a man with a blue t-shirt on sat at a table across from each other. She had a small gash on her forehead. The man's face was red and tears spilled down his cheeks. He had a gun in one hand a pencil in the other. The gun was pointed at the young woman who was very calmly writing math problems down on a piece of paper. Her hands shook just slightly.

"Are you going to hit me like she did? Touch me?" The man asked.

The woman looked up. "No. I'm just going to help you get it right. Okay? I wouldn't hurt you. We can do this together."

Luke and Spencer nodded at each other. "Chuck Jared, FBI." The woman looked up and shot up from her seat. She walked slowly with her hands up and stood in front of Chuck.

"Don't shoot him. You don't know what he's been through." She told them.

Spencer stepped forward and holstered his gun. "We actually do Ella. You are Ella right?"

The woman nodded. "Please don't hurt him. You have to let me explain what's happening." Before either of them could protest, Ella turned to Chuck. "We can trust each other, right?"

Spencer watched as Ella's hand inched closer to Chuck's. The man nodded. "I really enjoyed helping you, Chuck. But you have to go away."

"Go away? Where?" Chuck asked.

"With these nice guys." She told him with a smile. He hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun he was holding. "Can you go with them without hurting anyone else?"

Spencer and Luke looked at each other with confused faces. They'd never seen a victim talk down and unsub. "To a place where you can't hurt anyone."

"Will you come visit me? Help me do math problems?" He asked as he loosened his grip on the gun, letting her slide it away across the table and on to the floor.

"Of course I will." Chuck stood up and wrapped his arms around Ella. She returned the hug and looked at the two agents who have put their guns away by now and walked towards them. Luke took Chuck's arms from around Ella.

He cried and sobbed as he was escorted out of the house. "Are you alright, Ella?" She looked up and saw the agent with shaggy hair.

"He just wanted help with math." She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. "How many others has he killed?"

Spencer looked at her with sorrow. "Do you really want to know that?"

"It'll make it easier to feel less bad for him." She shrugged.

"I uh... I don't think it'll make anything easier. But... there's a medic outside. He could take a look at your head."

Ella wordlessly walked out of her open front door and to where a medic was standing. Spencer went to pick up the gun that Chuck used.

It fascinated him how she was able to talk down someone who was obviously mentally ill and who had a gun. He knew that toher people would've been scared out of their minds.

Sure she as scared but she definitely didn't show it. After clearing up the scene, he went outside to see Ella sitting in the back of an ambulance finishing getting stitches. There wasn't any reason to take her to the hospital since she didn't have any other wounds.

She smiled at the paramedic and hopped off of the back of the truck, stumbling a little causing the paramedic to catch her by the waist. She giggled and stood up straight. She said a few words to him and then walked away towards her house.

She stopped in front of Spencer. "Hi."

"Hello. Um I'm Doctor Spencer Reid." He introduced.

The woman smiled. "And I'm Ella Thomas but you already knew that I guess." She laughed a little and stood on her tippy toes to look over his shoulder at her house.

"Uh... if I may ask, how did you know to handle Chuck?" It seemed that the question brought a smile to her face.

She brushed her hair behind her ear and then wrapped her arms around herself. "Um after my normal classes I actually teach special education classes on Thursdays and Fridays. Y'know, one of my kids are bound to have a melt down one day." Her smile faded. "I just feel so bad for him. He didn't even have a chance. It's that pervy teacher's fault."

Spencer nodded. Of course he agreed. People turn out the way they turn out because of how they were once treated. They either threat others like that or they seek revenge. Or... sometimes they just live life feeling guilty.

Ella's voice snapped Spencer put of his thoughts. "Uh.. I have a question. And you can totally say no but i was wondering if you'd want to-"

"Oh. Um I'm not really into dating right now and it wouldn't be very professional to go out with a victim. Sorry."

Ella scoffed. "Wow." She shook her head. "Ok um I wasn't asking you out." Spencer's eyes almost popped out of his head. "I was just gonna ask if you'd come into my classroom tomorrow and talk to my fourth and fifth graders about what you do."

"Oh-"

"But since I see that you're a cocky jerk, that won't be necessary. Thanks doctor Reid." Ella moved past him and walked into her house. He knew that there was an officer in there to take her statement.

"What the hell was that, Reid?" The doctor turned around to see Luke with a smirk on his face.

Reid sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm an idiot. I- I thought she was asking me out and I completely embarrassed myself."

Luke placed his hands on his hips. "You think she's cute."

"What? No! I n-never said that!"

The man shook his head. "You didn't have to. I'm a profiler too, Reid. You're blushing, you jumped to the conclusion that she was asking you out, I saw your face when she was talking to Jared."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "You are just like Morgan." He walked past Luke and headed to the SUV.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎●▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

The next day, Spencer walked up to the elementary school with a coffee in hand. It wasn't for him though.

He walked up to the front desk. "Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid with the FBI. I'm here to see Ella Thomas." He said to an older lady who was typing at the computer.

"You can wait outside her classroom until the first bell rings. She's down this hall in room 205." She gestured to a long hallway on the other side of the desk.

Spencer nodded and smiled at the woman before walking into the hallway. He noticed all of the walls were covered in paper that had scribbled drawings on them, scratchy handwriting and smiley faces. He admired how kids were so innocent.

They were really the only other things besides animals that were pure. They thought the world was like one of their drawings where the sun always shined and people always got along.

"Okay, fourth graders! Time's almost up so I want you to show me your drawings!" He heard her voice. It was just like when she was helping Chuck the day before. "That's a beautiful giraffe, lizzy!"

Spencer smiled as he peered through the glass that covered almost the whole door. A little girl with pigtails waved her paper proudly in front of Ella. She had a bandage over her stitches that she had gotten. "What about you, Jordan? What did you draw?"

"I drew an airplane. It's really bad so I'm not gonna show you guys." The boy mumbled.

Ella smiled. "If you just want to show me, that's alright. You don't have to show the whole class." The boy nodded slowly and got put of his seat, walking to the front of the room where Ella stood.

She took his paper in her hands. "I really like your airplane, Jordan. You did a great job."

Spencer admired how she spoke to the kids. He admired how kind she was and how she didn't force the boy to show his drawing. And Reid had to admit that she was a very attractive woman.

Before, Jordan could say anything back, a little girl stood and pointed at the door. "Ms. T! There's a man standing at the door!"

Ella snapped her head towards the door and surely enough, Dr. Spencer Reid stood there with a petrified look. Her smile faded and she looked angry for just a second. Then she remembered that she was standing in a room full of kids. "Alright, um everyone sit down and I'll be right outside."

She smoothed out her skirt and walked towards the door. She opened it, stepped out, and shut the door quietly. "What are you doing here!?" She whisper shouted.

Spencer stuttered for a moment before finding his words. "I-i wanted to come and apologize for how rude I was yesterday. And I brought you coffee." He handed her the cup and she looked at the side to see what it was.

"How did you know my usual order?" She asked.

"Oh... uh I had our technical analyst go through your receipts and see what you usually got." He said.

Ella raised her eyebrows. "Um. that's creepy." The teacher nodded, folding her hands in front of her, looking from the coffe cup and up to Spencer.

"Yeah... I uh... I see that now. But I really just wanted to say that I'm sorry. And if the offer still stands, I'd love to talk to the kids about my job."

Ella bit the inside of her cheek and studied his hopeful face for a moment. She sighed and took the coffee from him. "Fine. But no gory details. You can talk to them after their break which should be..." She grabbed his wrist and lifted his watch in front of her face. "Now."

Then the bell rang. Spencer watched as small kids started to exit their classrooms and flood the hallway. Ella walked back into the classroom amd Spencer followed behind. "Okay, fourth graders! It's time for your break. Then we'll be joined by our lovely fith graders when you get back." All of the kids got up from their seats and high fived Ella before rushing out of the classroom, not paying any attention to the tall man who stood in the room.

Ella drew in a huge breath and let it go before going and sitting at her desk, taking out a bunch of colorful worksheets that had messy handwriting scribbled all over. "Um I'm just gonna grade these really quick." She looked up and motioned to the chairs that were in front of her desk. "You can take a seat if you want."

Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat and sat in the chair that made him look ridiculous because the chair was made for a smaller child. Ella looked at him and tried not to laugh but failed.

Reid's cheeks turned blush pink and he watched as she stood up. "Here, I have an extra big boy chair in the corner." She giggled. Spencer stood up quickly and pushed the chair away from him as Ella came back dragging a much bigger chair behind her. "Here you go, doctor Reid."

Spencer thanked her quietly and sat down. "Um... You can just call me Spencer if you want."

Ella smiled and sipped her coffee. "Okay then, Spencer. Thanks for the coffee."

"Your welcome. Did you know that coffee actually dates back to about 800 AD?" Spencer asked folding his hands in lap.

The teacher raised her eyebrows. "I didn't, actually. That's interesting." She nodded with a smile. An awkward silence fell over them and Ella cleared her throat again. "How did Chuck do?"

He wasn't expecting that question to come from her mouth. His head snapped up rather quickly. She wasn't looking at him but her lip was caught between her teeth as she wrote different numbers at the top of each page.

"Um. W- he did well. He was a little scared as they usually are but we got him calmed down." Ella nodded along with his words. He spoke after a few minutes of silence. "How do you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Chuck hurt you, he forced himself into your house and hurt you. But you care about him. Ho- how is that?" He asked.

Ella sighed before setting her pen down. "He never had a chance. He went through something when he was younger and it ruined him f- for life." The doctor saw how it brought tears to her eyes. "No one deserves that. No one."

The doctor bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn't need to ask her why she was so passionate about it. He already knew. He also didn't want to make Ella uncomfortable.

A few more minutes of silence and the bell rang. Ella's frown washed away quickly and she stood up from her chair. She walked over to the door and opened it wide. Spencer noticed that she was wearing black Converse. She had on a pink blouse and a black pencil skirt. Half of her hair was pinned back with a light pink butterfly clip. Even though he'd only known her for a day and a half, he could tell it suited her.

Kids started to pour into the room. Some older than other's. Spencer assumed that those were the fifth graders that Ella was talking about. "Hi Ms. T!" One of the kids called out.

Ms. Spencer thought.

Once everyone was settled in and down, Ella closed the door to the classroom. "Alright, everyone! Today, I have something special for you." Ella clapped her hands and leaned on the front of the desk next to Spencer.

"Is it candy!?" Once kid at the back asked loudly. Spencer quietly.

"Nope! Candy is on Wednesday, remember? I have someone here to talk to you guys."

Loud groans and moans were heard throughout the room. Ella shrugged. "Fine... we can do math worksheets instead." She told the, walking back behind her desk and pretending like she was getting papers from inside. Spencer blushed and looked back at the kids who were eyeing him with confusion.

"No! No! No!" They all yelled.

Ella laughed. "Alright, guys! May I introduce to you..." Ella stretched her hands put towards Spencer and wiggled her fingers. "Doctor Spencer Reid with the FBI!"

The room erupted with obnoxious cheers and screams. Spencer stood up and waved shyly. "Hi guys! Hey!" He clapped his hands together and smiled.

"Everyone say 'Hello, doctor Reid!'" Ella smiled.

"Hello, doctor Reid!" The class yelled.

"Hi! So today, Ms. T brought me here to talk to you about my job! you guys wanna hear about my job?" He asked stepping closer to the large group of children.

"Yeah!" They yelled.

Spencer nodded. "Alright but first, I'm gonna show you guys a magic trick!" He clapped. The kids perked up excitedly. "I'm gonna need one special volunteer."

Most if not all of the kids raised their hands, barley able to keep  themselves in their seats. Spencer turned to Ella. "Ms. T, why don't you pick someone?"

Ella smiled and walked back from behind her desk. "Mhm..." She placed her hand on her chin as she rounded the student's desks. They looked up at her with puppy dog eyes. Spencer watched as she walked. Her hips swayed naturally, her hair moved a little with each step. "Molly!"

A little girl in a pink sundress and pigtails hopped out of her seat excitedly and walked up to Spencer. "Alright, Molly." The doctor pulled a quarter out of his pocket. Ella sat in Molly's seat and placed her chin on her fist. "So this is a normal quarter... right?" He placed the quarter in Molly's hands. "You see? It just a normal quarter." He too, it back from the girl and placed it in his palm.

"But, this quarter is able to dissappear!" Molly gasped as he made the coin dissappear before her eyes.

"Where did it go!?" One kid in the front row of seats asked. Spencer shrugged and walked over to him.

"Maybe..." he swiped his hand behind the boy's ear and pulled out a quarter.

The whole class started to cheer and scream. Ella clapped and stood up making her way over to him. "That was a great magic trick, doctor Reid! Now, let's all settle down and let him talk about his job, yeah?"

After a few moments, the class settled down. Spencer insisted on standing because it made him feel more comfortable. And then he talked.

He talked about what being a profiler meant, how he caught the bad guys, and how he did paperwork when he went back to the office. The kids thought that part was boring because... I mean, they're kids.

After forty minutes, he was done, the kids clapped for him. Ella stood up from her chair and walked around to stand next to him. "Alright, does anyone have any questions for doctor Reid?" Most of the class raised their hands. Ella looked around before calling on one kid. "Brady, go ahead."

"Are you Ms. T's boyfriend?" The nasaly kid asked. Ella choked on air while Spencer widened her eyes. The class broke out into a fit of giggles.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Um no. Ms. T and I are..." He looked back at her with a smile. "Friends." Ella nodded.

She turned to the class. "Alright, put your hand down if your question isn't related to doctor Reid's job." All but one hand dropped down. "Yes, Tina?"

"Have you ever had to shoot anybody?" She asked.

Spencer's voice cracked a little before he answered. "Unfortunately I have. But it was only because they were a danger to others. And it's my job to protect others."

Ella nodded at his kid friendly explanation with a smile. "Alright, you guys. That is all the time we have for today." The woman clapped. "Everyone say thank you to doctor Reid!"

And the class did. "I had so much fun talking to you guys today!" Spencer exclaimed. The bell rang before Ella could say anything else.

"Alright, you guys! Have a good lunch!" The kids all hopped up from their seats and rushed out the door to get their lunch boxes from their cubbies out in the hallway.

Once the room was empty, Ella sighed heavily and stuck her hands on her hips, turning to him. "Thank you for doing this, Spencer."

"No problem. I actually had a lot of fun. You're really good with kids." He told her.

Ella nodded and smiled up at him. "Thanks."

The two stood awkwardly for a moment before Spencer spoke. "Well uh... I should get going." Ella nodded and Spencer began to walk towards the door.

"Wait!"

Spencer turned around and Ella rushed towards him. She looked into his eyes before swiping her hand behind his ear and holding a quarter in front of his face. "Here you go, magic man." She smiled.

The doctor's cheeks heated up and he took the quarter from her. He nodded curtly before leaving the room. Ella sighed again before she walked back over to her desk. She stopped when she noticed a small white card.

With Doctor Spencer Reid's number on it.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎●▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

The elevator dinged amd Spencer stepped out only to be pushed back in by the rest of his team. "Reid, where the hell were you? I texted you like... an hour ago." That was the unmistakable voice of Penelope Garcia.

"We have a case, kid." Rossi stated.

"We'll brief you on the plane. Now, where were you?" Emily asked. Spencer looked at Luke who had a smirk on his face.

Spencer cleared his throat. "Um nowhere."

"Wrong answer boy genius." Penelope hummed. "I tracked your phone to the elementary school on Maine." Spencer's hear sped up and his cheeks heated up.

He sighed. "I was just checking up on Ella Thomas."

"The teacher from last night?" Emily asked.

Reid nodded slowly. "Yeah. She also asked me to talk to her class about our job so... I did." He told them.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They walked out. Rossi and Garcia shared the same look with each other.

---------------------------

And here's another one!

I will be writing a longer OC fic about either JJ or Emily.... I've not started it yet but I have been brainstorming *evil laugh* I'm in love with both of them so it's hard to choose... you do it for me!?

Anyway, love y'all 🧡🧡🧡

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

[motherjoel]

hostile (spencer reid x fem!reader)

summary: after months of trying to get pregnant and a miscarriage, you finally succeed. will you get the chance to tell spencer this time?

a/n: this is my first oneshot in a veryyyy long time so im sorry if im a little rusty! trying to get back into it :) also i know very little about pregnancy so forgive me! (i got the hostile uterus part from greys anatomy lmao)

wc: 2.3k

warnings/includes: lotsa fluff, angst if you squint, criminal minds stuff, pregnancy, miscarriage

-

“Spence, were you even listening in there? I have a hostile uterus. Not only am I feeling incredibly hostile right now, but my uterus?” you yelled as Spencer guided you to your car.

“All I’m suggesting is that we keep trying, Y/N. And I’ve already done plenty of research on adoption and surrogacy, did you know that 140,000 children are adopted by American families each year?” he asked, opening the passengers side door for you and running around to hop in the driver's seat. “And there's always in vitro fertilization,” he suggested as he reached to shut his door and start the car. 

“Of course you wanna keep trying Spence, all you have to do is stick it in and thrust,” you huffed as he winced at your harsh wording, grabbing your hand over the center console. “I’m the one taking hormone shots in my ass and drinking less than 5 cups of coffee a day,” you complained about your attempts at increasing fertility. “Who knew a miscarriage would be the thing to get me to cut down on caffeine.”

Spencer was silent as he drove back to your shared apartment, both of your minds on your struggles to get pregnant in the past year. You thought back to your miscarriage and the impact it had on you both- it had only been a few months since you and Spencer became official. It was new, and this pregnancy was unplanned to say the least. Not telling Spencer about it was the only solution you could think of at the time- until it was too late. 

You remembered the feeling in your chest, your entire body running cold after being tackled by an unsub. You hadn’t told anyone of your pregnancy, not even Spencer, but as the blood ran down your legs it was pretty clear what had just happened. Derek dragged the unsub away in handcuffs as you sat in the open back of the ambulance, a paramedic wrapping your wrist. You barely remembered JJ’s look of pity or Rossi’s concerned gaze. The only thing you remembered was the pale face of your boyfriend as you had been lying on the ground moments before trying to hide the blood. He eventually made his way over to sit next to you after a few minutes of stunned silence.

“Hey, Spence,” you whispered as he sat next to you, the paramedic finishing up and walking away.

“How long?” He looked at your stomach, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“Three, um, three months,” you fiddled with the bandage on your wrist.

“And you didn’t… you didn’t think to tell me?” he asked, eyes welling up as he finally made eye contact.

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I just, we never talked about kids before and we haven’t been together for too long… I just needed time. To think.”

He nodded and swallowed thickly before softy taking your hand in his, running his finger over the fabric of your bandage.

“You never have to hide something like this from me, y/n. We’re in this together and... not to be um, too forward, but I love you,” he confessed. You knew you loved him, but neither of you had dared say it. “I love you now and I always will, so you can trust me with this kind of thing.”

Since that day, the two of you had only gotten closer. Now, a year into your marriage, you were actively trying. And after months of trying to no avail, a trip to the obstetrician was called for- the obstetrician who called your uterus hostile, which was likely the reason for your first miscarriage. You could barely fall asleep for a few weeks after your obstetrician appointment, which made this early morning case call all the more difficult. The two of you dragged yourselves out of bed and began your morning routine of getting dressed and making coffee, moving in sync with each other as you prepared for the day. It was a quick drive into the office and before you knew it you were sitting in a room full of your coworkers looking at pictures of human remains. 

“Four men killed in Ohio in the past month, each left with a note written in the same handwriting,” Penelope says as you all look at the case file. You normally had an iron stomach- in the BAU, queasiness wasn’t an option. But for the first time in your career, your face turned green at the pictures of dead bodies.

“It says here that they are all men in long-term relationships?” Emily asks.

“Correction: Were in long-term relationships. Right before they died, it was reported that they left their girlfriends,” Garcia explained.

“That’s important for the victimology, but there has to be something more to set off the unsub,” Spencer commented.

“Yeah, I bet that there was a common reason for them leaving,” you suggested, closing the case file and averting your gaze from the pictures.

“We’ll discuss more on the jet. Wheels up in twenty,” said Hotch.

You all gathered your things and began to leave for the jet, Spencer walking in stride with you.

“You know what, Spence, I’m actually gonna run across the street and grab some tampons before we go, I think i'm gonna need em,” you said. “Go on ahead without me.”

“Are you sure? I can just come with you,” he offered.

“No, no, go brainstorm with the team. I’ll be right there,” you smiled at him as you parted ways. You were going to the convenience store across the street, but it wasn’t for tampons. Your stomach fluttered as the bell jingled at the entrance. The aisle for pregnancy tests was easy to find, and you were on the jet five minutes later.

“Hey, did you find the, um…” Spencer trailed off as you sat down next to him on the jet. He wasn’t one of those men who got weird about menstruation, but you knew he was avoiding the word “tampon” to save you any embarrassment .

“Yup, I’m good,” you smiled and focused on the team who had now gathered around to further discuss the case.

“So, is there any link between the men yet? There has to be a reason that they were all killed soon after leaving their girlfriends,” JJ mused. You thought back to your past fears and your current situation and something suddenly clicked in your brain.

“Wait…” you picked up the case file. “What if… what if they were pregnant?” you asked, looking up to see furrowed brows. “I mean, the handwriting is feminine, so maybe the unsub is a woman who’s getting revenge on men leaving their pregnant girlfriends?” you concluded.

“I’ll call Garcia. We land in 30, keep looking over the files,” Hotch said before you all sat back down in your respective seats, the outside of your thigh pressed against Spencer’s.

You were trying to think of a good time to take the pregnancy test- you couldn’t do it on the jet, it would be really hard to hide on a plane full of profilers. You decided that the best time to take it would be back at the hotel, but after working for hours you found it hard to focus with the pregnancy test in your bag. Excusing yourself to the bathroom in the local precinct, you snuck the test with you. You locked the door behind you and took the test, trying to control your breathing as you waited for the results. As you waited, you got a text from Morgan telling you that there was new information. The moment you finished reading his text, your alarm beeped. Taking a deep breath, you dared a glance at the stick. With shaky hands, you picked up the test and bit your lip to hold back your yelp of joy at the tiny little +. Shoving the test into your bag, you rushed back to the rest of the team to continue working on the case. You would tell Spencer this time, but you decided it would be best to catch a serial killer first.

Garcia confirmed through the phone that all of the girlfriends were pregnant and shared the same obstetrician who was a single mother with a young child. This seemed to be the perfect profile for an unsub killing men who walked out on their families, but something seemed off to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was bugging you about the case. You were on the way to Shelby Meyerson’s, the obstetricians house, with Morgan and Spencer when Garcia called.

“Whats up baby girl,” Morgan answered, one hand on the wheel.

“So I’ve been doing some digging and it turns out that Shelby actually has a boyfriend, Andrew. Recent social media posts show that they started dating a little over a month ago, and it looks like Andrew grew up without a father” she said.

“Right before the killings started,” you looked at Spencer from the back seat.

“Garcia, send his address,” Spencer spoke into the speaker.

“Already on it my loves,” Garcia replied, and you could hear the clacking of her keyboard as she hit send. You looked at the address in your phone.

“Morgan, that's right down the street from where we are right now,” you pointed out. The three of you didn’t waste any time getting there. You hopped out of the car and approached the door, hand instinctively resting on your gun.

“FBI, open up,” you said, rapping on the door. You waited for a moment, but when nobody answered, Derek took matters into his own hands. Within seconds, the door had been kicked down and the three of you spread out around the house, Morgan going upstairs and Spencer going into the basement as you canvassed the ground floor. You took notice of a cup of tea on a coffee table, still warm. Once you cleared the area, you made your way into the basement, gun drawn. Your heart dropped at the sight before you- a man you recognized as missing tied to the radiator in the corner of the room, and your unsub restraining your husband with a gun to his head. You kept your gun pointed at the unsub as you heard Morgan come down the stairs behind you.

“Don’t move!” The unsub, Andrew, yelled. You raised your hands when he pointed his gun at you, dropping your weapon to gain trust.

“Andrew, there’s no way to get out of this, just let him go so we can talk,” you tried to soothe him, his grip on Spencer only tightening.

“No, no, you don’t understand. These men deserve to die for leaving their children, they-they’re terrible people, I’m giving them what they deserve,” he argued, becoming frantic.

“Andrew, if you hurt that agent, you’re just as bad as the men you kill,” you began, taking small steps toward Spencer. “He’s my husband and…” you started, locking eyes with Spencer. “And I’m pregnant with his child,” you confessed. Spencer's eyes went wide, shock overtaking the previous expression of fear. You continued to speak. “If you kill him, you make him leave his child. I know you don’t want that, I know you don’t want someone else to go through what you went through,” you bargained. Thankfully, you seemed to get through to him, as he dropped his gun and collapsed to the ground, his grip on Spencer loosening as Derek moved in to cuff him.

You immediately ran to your husband, throwing your arms around his midsection as he wrapped himself around you, kissing the top of your head and whispering reassurances to you. 

“I was so scared,” you said into his chest, your voice muffled by his kevlar vest. He put his hands on the side of your face and wiped your stray tears, his own falling as he started to smile.

“Were you serious? Are… are we pregnant?” he asked, his hopeful smile spreading wide as ever. You bit your lip and nodded, squealing with joy as he picked you up and twirled you around, not even noticing the rest of the BAU had arrived at the scene.

“Hey, be careful with Y/N! She’s carrying my god child,” Derek smirked as Spencer set you down, his arms still wrapped around your waist. 

“Hold on, why does Morgan get to be the godfather?” Rossi questioned, putting on a mock italian accent, making you all laugh.

“That’s not important, what's important is that we're gonna have a baby genius running around,” JJ smiled as she walked over to hug you both, which turned into a group hug between the entire BAU. You all broke up the hug when Morgan's phone began to ring.

“Yes, baby girl everyone's safe. Actually… Pretty boy and pretty girl have some big news,” he said, putting Garcia on speaker.

“What! Tell me right now, I can't handle this!” she begged. You and Spencer smiled at each other before you began to speak.

“You’re gonna be an aunt,” you said excitedly, receiving the loudest gasp through the phone.

“You mean… you… Spencer… you guys… oh my GOD!” she began to ramble about her excitement as you all laughed, Derek taking the phone off speaker to calm her down.

“Our kid is gonna be so loved,” you smiled, grabbing his hands and standing on your toes to press a kiss on his cheek.

“We got really lucky,” he blushed, pulling you back into another hug, the world around you frozen in that moment.

-

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taglist: @rigatonireid​,  @aworldoffandoms, @moonshinerbynight, @averyhotchner, @s1utformgg

[corie-the-writer]

Come As You Are - Prologue

Prologue ---

Four Years Ago --

Hannah Walker stood behind the bar with her book displayed out in front of her as she was waiting for the beer and liquor to be delivered to the strip club that she had currently worked at. The dark haired woman had never in a million years pictured herself as a stripper or bartender at night while she attended college through the day to get her final credits to earn her bachelor's degree. When her parents had passed away almost two years ago, she had put her college life on hold, not having enough credits to graduate with the rest of her class. She could have blamed anyone under the sun for the circumstances that life had thrown at her, but she knew that it would do no good. She took time to grieve the loss of her family, while working at a small coffee shop to make ends meet while she coped with this new life that was thrown at her. 

That is where she met Tamila, who had told her that her boyfriend managed the strip club, and told her that she would be a good fit because of her dark hair, piercing green eyes and curved but slender body. Hannah had laughed off the compliment but when she had went home she had been curious as to how much a dancer could make in a night. 

She had a few bills that she couldn't catch up on due to the cost of college. She had thought about transferring colleges to finish up her credits, but she would have to spend longer finishing out her work if she had decided to transfer and Hannah did not want to chance losing any of her earned credits. 

The next time she had spoke to Tamila, she had sat the spunky redheaded woman down and told her about her situation, wondering if her boyfriend would be willing to work with her and Tamila had agreed to speak to Tyrone. She was surprised that Tamilia had shot a quick text to her boyfriend, and he had agreed to sit down and talk to the woman later that evening. 

Once Hannah had sat down with Tyrone, she was extremely grateful that the man had agreed to hire her as a bartender at first, knowing that the tips would be hers out right, that she would be paid under the table so it would not effect her chances of becoming a teacher once she was able to graduate from college. Hannah had never been more thankful for the understanding and compassion they had shown to her. 

"Girl...you about done with that college shit?" Hannah heard the familiar voice of Tiffany, a dancer who was a lot to handle majority of the time. 

"I have final exams coming up in about a month. Hopefully then I can graduate." Hannah explained as Tiffany plopped herself in a chair, "Need something to drink?" Hannah questioned politely. 

"Nah sweetie, I'm good." Tiffany answered, "Have you seen Brittany anywhere?" Tiffany questioned as she looked to her nails, "She was suppose to meet early to go over a dance routine." 

"No, I haven't seen her." Hannah glanced to the blonde woman and then turned her attention back to the book in front of her. 

At first, when Hannah had started working, there were a few girls that felt extremely threatened according to Tamilia, so they were incredibly catty towards her, but after a while, most of the women had grown to like the dark haired woman. A couple of the women had even taught Hannah how to dance so she could make a little extra cash a couple of nights a week which had helped her catch up on bills, and was now able to live comfortably without worrying. 

"Are you dancing tonight or bartending?" Tiffany questioned. 

"Just bartending." Hannah replied not taking her eyes off the book as she answered, completely missing Tyrone and two unfamiliar faces walking into the bar room. 

"Tiffany. Hannah." Tyrone spoke. 

Hannah still didn't bother taking her eyes off the book as she greeted her friend, "Hey Ty...still waiting on the delivery." Hannah stated as she flipped the page. 

"She's got final exams coming up..." Tyrone's explanation had the woman lifting her head and noticed the older gentleman with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, noticing the police badge displayed on his hip, and then the other man who was African American and rather tall, with the same badge on display, "These men have some questions for you, don't be a hassle Tiffany." Tyrone explained, "I'm gonna go call everyone in..." Tyrone added and Hannah furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of Tyrone's face noticing that something was extremely wrong. 

"I'm Sargent Hank Voight, this is Detective Kevin Atwater..." The older man introduced himself and his co-worker. 

"I'm Hannah..." Hannah spoke gently, looking down to her book to mark the page before shutting it and looking to the Sargent, "Is everything okay?" Hannah questioned. 

"We were wondering when the last time Brittany Lincoln was seen?" Hank questioned as the Detective took Tiffany a few feet away at a table. 

"Uhm..." Hannah thought for a moment, "I wasn't here last night, but I think she was scheduled to work, so the last time I saw her was Wednesday evening." Hannah explained, "Is she okay?" Hannah questioned quietly.

"Unfortunately no. She was murdered last night." 

"Oh my god..." Hannah frowned deeply. 

"Has there been anyone who has shown particular interest in Brittney while she has been here? Has she mentioned anything about a boyfriend, problems she was having with someone?" Hank questioned. 

Hank Voight had been under a lot of stress with three murdered women who had ties to local strip clubs that had shown up across Chicago within the last week. The bodies had been tortured and assaulted, so Voight realized quickly there was a serial killer on the loose and he needed to get ahead of the person doing this. He had split the team to check all three backgrounds of the women, and when he walked into Links Club, he did not expect to see the dark haired woman behind the bar studying. He especially did not expect to stumble over her beauty and the instant pull he had towards her. 

The man noticed that the woman was wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with her dark hair tied into a messy bun on the top of her head. He had to clear his throat for a moment when Hannah began to speak again. 

"No, I wasn't really that close with her to know details of her personal life. She was sort of private when it came to that stuff, not wanting to mix work with her personal life." Hannah cringed when Tiffany began to sob, feeling like she wasn't close enough with Brittany to have that sort of reaction, "Brittany hung out with Tamila a lot I think and a new girl that just started here, uhm..Candace." Hannah pointed out, "They might know more than I do about any of that." 

Hank gave a nod in understanding, jotting down the names that Hannah had given to him, "Has there been any issues here at work?" Hank questioned. 

"I mean not that I've noticed. Tyrone tries to keep me at the bar as much as he can unless one of the girls doesn't show up, but I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary and no one has really said anything." Hannah explained trying to think back of the past couple of weeks. 

"If you can think of anything else, please, don't hestiate to call." Hank stated, handing her his business card and taking a pen from the bar counter and scribbling down his personal cell phone number on the back. 

Hank wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to write down his personal number, but he had decided to just go with it as he excused himself to speak with Tyrone in his office. 

Hannah looked to the card and slipped the paper into her back pocket. Her mind was replaying every night she had worked, wondering if she had overlooked something. It was hard to tell because the bouncers were extremely good on keeping the women protected from men who had drank too much and got a little too handsy, then she remembered that she had taken the trash out and saw Brittany in an argument with a new bouncer that was around their age. Making her way out from behind the bar, Hannah headed towards Tyrone's office. 

"Look, we have reason to believe that there is a serial killer targeting dancers. We've had three  women's bodies come up within the past week." Hannah frowned at Voight's voice and gently knocked on the door. 

"What is it Hannah?" Tyrone questioned as the woman opened the door a little. 

"I uh...I just remembered I saw Brittany and that new bouncer arguing outside Wednesday night." Hannah explained looking to Voight, "I didn't think anything of it because Brittany gets a little crabby the later it gets, but I just found it odd because he's sort of distant and cold, unlike the other guys." Hannah stated. 

"Can you get me any information you have on file of this guy?" Hank questioned to Tyrone. 

"Yeah, absolutely." Tyrone answered opening his desk drawer, "He is suppose to be at work tonight." Tyrone replied handing Voight the file. 

"Look, we are going to have to people a couple of people undercover here. We have zero leads on what this person's motives are, what their next move is going to be." Hank explained and Tyrone nodded his head in understanding. 

"Whatever you guys need, we are more than willing to help as much as we can." Tyrone stated. 

Hannah stood awkwardly for a moment, realizing the severity of the situation that was happening in Chicago, feeling so badly about the women who lost their lives. What she didn't realize was how much her life would be changing moving forward now that Hank Voight had entered her life.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty In the Blood - Part 5

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part four here! 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

*Please read to the end for another author’s note!*

A/N: Warning, folks! Here be smut! Nothing too dark in this chapter as far as gore or violence goes, though. Which... I suppose is a plus, considering this story. I hope you guys enjoy!

Too good to be true.

That was the thought that kept plaguing you, even four months later. He’s too good to be true. This relationship is too good to be true. What happens when I figure out that this is too good to possibly be true?

And yet, day after day, Loki continued to prove you wrong. It wasn’t all just the big romantic overtures that you found out he loved to make. (Like the time he had a dozen red roses delivered to your door on your one-months anniversary. Or the brand new matching wireless keyboard and mouse he got to make writing easier for you. Or the time he took you to a quaint, tucked away speak-easy to treat you to a night of drinks and slow dancing.)

It was in the little things, too. How he would come over on days where you felt less-than-good to hold you and watch your favorite movies. Or how he would send you texts throughout the day to tell you about an interesting case at work, or to ask you what you wanted for dinner on date night, or just to tell you that he was thinking about you.

In fact, some would even say that he was too attentive, too perfect, and were it anyone else, alarm bells would be going off in your head. But there was something about him that made you keep coming back for more, and even with months now behind you, you still couldn’t get enough.

And maybe that was why you were so nervous right now. Pacing back and forth across the length of your bedroom, you stared down at your stocking-clad feet as you tried frantically to tamp down the butterflies batting around your rib cage. You knew, consciously, that even if tonight were a disaster, Loki would still care about you. He wouldn’t just up and leave, even if Thor ended up despising you.

But you still really hoped he wouldn’t.

A gasp parted your lips when the tell-tale sound of your doorbell echoed throughout your home, and after one more deep breath, you pulled your heels on and made your way down the stairs. With one last glance in the mirror and a quick, silent prayer to whoever might be listening, you threw your purse over your shoulder and opened your front door.

His smile still caught you off guard sometimes. As you stepped out into the darkness of the evening, you felt heat flood your cheeks as Loki grinned up at you. He was dressed impeccably as always, sporting a dark green suit with a crisp white shirt, and if the way his eyes raked over you was anything to go by, he was more than pleased with how you looked, as well.

“And you must be the woman I’ve heard so much about!”

A loud, booming voice took you off guard, and you watched as annoyance flashed over your boyfriend’s face at the outburst. As he turned to shoot a glare over his shoulder, you caught a flash of the other man waiting at the base of your front steps, and though you already knew that Loki was adopted, you were still briefly taken aback by just how different the two brothers were.

Thor was just as large as Loki had described, and although the two stood at about the same height, his shoulders and build were so broad that he would have been quite intimidating, were it not for the large grin on his face. His long hair was pulled up into a loose bun, showing off a pair of blue eyes that seemed to radiate genuine happiness, and despite your still-present nerves, you couldn’t help but let a matching smile come over your features.

“Hi, Thor. Loki’s told me so much about you.”

“And I’m sure all of it is incredibly flattering, right?” He sent a conspiratorial glance back to Loki, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever could I tell her about you that wouldn’t be flattering, brother?”

“Nothing comes to mind, seeing whereas I’ve never done anything wrong or questionable.”

“Thor Odinson? Perish the thought.”

The man in question let out a bark of laughter before turning back to you and extending his arm for a handshake.

“Well, my brother has nothing but glowing remarks about you,” he remarked, all but crushing your hand in his grip. “And I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally meet the woman who’s stolen Loki’s heart.”

Once more, you felt heat rising in your face, and you let out a nervous chuckle as Thor dropped your hand. From your right, you felt an arm slither around your waist, and you leaned into Loki’s warmth.

“Thank you so much! It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“You don’t need to lie for his sake, love,” Loki stage-whispered into your ear. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a nudge with your elbow, though Thor seemed to be used to his brother’s sass. Without a glance in his direction, Thor reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, clicking a button on them until you heard a car beep close by.

“Shall we be off, then?” he asked. “We have about twenty minutes until our reservation.”

“That is if his driving doesn’t kill us along the way,” Loki snarked, guiding you towards the car with a hand on your lower back.

“I didn’t hear you offering to drive earlier, Loki,” Thor commented, sending his brother a look that elicited a scowl in response.

“Only because my car is in the shop. Remember?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You giggled at the pained look your boyfriend sent you, pecking his cheek as Thor made his way around to the driver’s seat. Loki offered to sit in the back, but after a few moments of deliberation, you ended up sitting in the back with Loki on the passenger side next to Thor. Your seating arrangements ended up working out perfectly, though, because you had the perfect vantage point to watch the two brothers bicker over how to get to the restaurant. Loki was doing his best to navigate, but… Well. You quickly learned that it was of no use with Thor behind the wheel.

“I said take a left at Sycamore, Thor.”

“I heard you. But there’s a shortcut between Sycamore and Highland Street.”

“No, there’s not. Have you even driven through this part of New York before?”

“You forget I used to live here, too, brother. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh, just like you did when we were driving through London, yes?”

“That was your fault. If you hadn’t had tried to-“

“WATCH FOR PEDESTRIANS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”

Needless to say, the twenty minute drive was eventful to say the least, and you were only mildly traumatized by the way Thor was bobbing and weaving through the thick New York traffic. Even Loki looked a bit green from it, and you’d never seen your boyfriend shaken by anything. When both of you had your feet once again on solid ground, he wrapped an arm around you once again and whispered against your hair.

“I really do apologize for all of that, darling.”

“No, please don’t. It was funny,” you assured him, pecking his cheek as Thor rounded the vehicle towards you. “Usually you’re so…unperturbed. It was nice to see you a little ruffled.”

He sent you a bemused smile, but it vanished as Thor clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps.

“Well, nothing ruffles Loki’s feathers like me. It took an entire month of convincing for him to even agree to me visiting.”

“A decision I’m regretting more and more as the minutes tick by…”

Soon enough, the three of you were sat at a table in one of the nicest restaurants you’d ever been to. Surprisingly enough, Thor had recommended the place, and after your waiter came by to take your drink orders, you rested your hand on top of Loki’s and turned towards the blonde.

“Thank you for the restaurant suggestion, Thor. How’d you hear about this place?”

“My girlfriend actually told me about it. Usually when I’m in New York on business, I just go to local food trucks or pizza parlors. But Jane said that I should take you two somewhere nice. She apologizes for not being able to make the trip, by the way. She was just as curious about you as I was, but she had an important conference to give a lecture at.”

“That sounds amazing! And no worries; I’d love to meet her next time you’re in town. What do the two of you do for a living?”

“Well, Jane is an astronomer – one of the best in the entire world, actually,” he started, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his partner. “She’s lecturing on a new design she’s invented, some sort of spectrometer. Honestly, it all goes way over my head, but that’s why she’s the genius.”

“To be fair, most things go over your head, brother.”

Thor rolled his eyes at Loki’s quip, and when you turned towards your boyfriend, you saw that he had a small smile on his face to match the mischievous glint in his eyes. You knew better than to take him seriously; anyone would be able to see how close the two were, despite their back-and-forth.

“And what about you, Thor? Loki’s never told me what you do for a living.”

“I work for Stark Industries,” he replied, taking a sip of the large pint of beer he’d ordered. “It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.”

“Not much, indeed,” Loki interjected. “You’re only in charge of the entire marketing department, after all.”

Your eyes widened at that; Stark Industries was one of the biggest, most well-known brand names in the world. From appliances to electronics to clean energy, it was right up there with Google and Disney as far as most were concerned, and to think that Thor was in such a high-ranking position, well… From the things Loki had told you about Thor, you hadn’t expected such a career for him.

“Wow. That’s…incredible. So you know Tony Stark?”

“Oh, me and Tony are great friends. But I don’t ‘run’ the marketing department by any means. Just the UK faction of it.”

“’Just’?”

After that, the waiter stopped by to take your respective orders, after which Thor settled his attention on you once more.

“So, Loki has already told me about your writing. It’s funny to think of him dating the author responsible for those books he’s obsessed over for years.”

“I’m not obse-“

“Has he asked you to sign any of his copies yet?”

He had, jokingly, at one point. But you didn’t tell Thor that.

The rest of the evening passed by without incident, and your nerves quickly evaporated as the three of you laughed and talked through the rest of the meal. Loki liked to joke at Thor’s expense, but it was clear that he held his older brother in high regard, and Thor clearly loved Loki very much. More than a few times, you caught him watching you and Loki closely, a discerning, considering look in his eyes that belayed an intelligence you hadn’t expected. He might not be as book smart or as well-spoken as his younger sibling, but Thor obviously was good when it came to reading people. Whatever he was looking at, though, it didn’t disappoint, because any time your eyes met, he would send you a small, encouraging smile that would immediately dissipate any worries you might have had.

In what felt like no time at all, the three of you were piling out of the car at your house again, and you didn’t hesitate to return Thor’s hug as he said his goodbyes.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” he assured you. “Loki’s never let me meet any of his girlfriends before, but I see now that he was just waiting for the right one to come along first.”

Taken off guard by his genuine compliment, you could only blink up at him for a few moments in surprise before your brain kicked back in.

“That’s…so kind of you to say, Thor. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

After clapping you on the shoulder, Thor said his goodbye and got back into his car, giving you and Loki some privacy. As soon as his blonde head disappeared into the vehicle, you felt two cold hands cup your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a deep, toe-curling kiss, and you let yourself melt into your boyfriend’s embrace as he held you against him.

“That went well, I would say,” he murmured as the two of you finally parted. “He likes you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“I like him, too,” you smiled. “Thank you for letting me meet him.”

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you watched as uncertainty began to creep along his features, and after a few moments of considering, his mouth snapped shut once again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “I forgot what I was going to say, is all. I think driving with Thor still has my brains slightly scrambled.”

“Hm.” You didn’t believe him, not for a second, but whatever it was left your mind as soon as his lips came down onto yours once more. This kiss was slower than before, and lingering; his hands slid up over your hips to settle on your waist, and he let out a soft sigh through his nose before pulling away to set his forehead on yours.

“I should probably head home,” he whispered. “But Thor leaves out tomorrow morning. Would you like to come over tomorrow?”

“For dinner?”

“And dessert.”

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to his lips before taking a step towards your door.

“I love you, Loki. Have a good rest of your evening.”

“I will, darling. But only because I’ll be thinking of you.”

_______________

The two men drove in silence back to Loki’s house, leaving him to think back over the evening. It couldn’t have gone better, in his opinion. Thor liked you, but Thor was a bit like a golden retriever in that way. He loved most of the people he met, whereas Loki had always been more comparable to a cat; he needed to trust someone before deciding whether or not he liked them, typically, and his trust was not easily gained. In fact, there were only two people in the world he truly trusted, and now, they’d both finally made the other’s acquaintance.

The silence was finally broken when Thor parked in front of Loki’s home. As they both sat there, illuminated by the dashboard and streetlights, his elder brother turned to face him fully.

“I like her,” he announced, as though Loki couldn’t already tell that. “Does she know?”

Loki arched an eyebrow before getting out of the car and fishing his keys out of his pocket, striding up to his door as his brother scrambled to catch up with him.

“I have no idea what you could be alluding to,” he replied, opening his front door and bending down to scoop up Lovecraft, who had a habit of swiping at Thor anytime he tried to enter the house.

“Oh, I wonder,” Thor countered, shutting the door behind him before peeling off his winter coat. “I suppose I could be talking about your allergy to dogs. Or perhaps your aversion to the color orange. Or, oh, I don’t know, your habit of murdering innocents. Who knows?”

With a roll of his eyes, Loki hung his coat up beside Thor’s and started striding towards his basement stairs, trusting Thor to follow him.

“How many times must I tell you – there’s no such thing as ‘innocent’. Not in today’s world, at least.”

“Try telling that to a jury.”

“Hopefully it’ll never come to that point,” Loki sighed. He bypassed the first room of his basement, not giving a second glance to the old, miscellaneous pieces of furniture and the stacked boxes of keepsakes from childhood. No, instead he focused on the large, dusty bookshelf that covered the far wall of the room, reaching for the thick compendium of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets that hid the keyhole.

“I’ll never get used to being down here…” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically small in here; usually, his baritone could be heard from several rooms away, but his mood always took a dark turn when he was reminded of Loki’s…’proclivities’.

“You can always wait upstairs, you know,” Loki uttered without a backwards glance, fitting the small key into the lock and twisting until he heard a click.

“I know,” his brother assured him. “But I promised I’d help you, so let’s just get this over with.”

Smirking, Loki pocketed his keys and pulled the hidden door open, watching a section of the bookcase separate from the rest and turn on the hinges he’d installed so long ago. The creaking shriek they elicited made him wince, and he made a mental note to grease them before his next houseguest.

Luckily for Thor, the only beings alive or dead in Loki’s house were the two of them and Lovecraft, who pattered in after them before jumping up onto the chair in the corner. He typically didn’t allow his cat entry to this room, for obvious reasons, but he decided to leave her be as he knelt next to the detached backseat from his car that was sitting in the middle of the room.

“I’ve already replaced the stuffing; you just need to help me reupholster, and then I can do the rest.”

Thor knelt beside him with a grumble, grabbing a staplegun from his wall of power tools and torture instruments as he kept his eyes stubbornly focused on the seat.

“You know, if you used plastic tarps like any self-respecting serial killer would, you wouldn’t have to reupholster anything in the first place,” he groused. Loki knew that he had a point, and he usually did use plastic when transporting his victims.

“…This one was a bit of a last minute decision,” he finally conceded. “But I’m handling it, as you can see.”

Thor’s lips turned white as he pressed them together, pausing in his struggle to roll out more fabric.

“Loki, you can’t afford to make many last minute decisions with this sort of thing,” he muttered, all joking gone from his voice. “You promised me you’d be careful if and when you get these…urges.”

“And I am,” Loki assured his brother. “Truthfully. No one has ever suspected me of anything. Not once, and you know that.”

With a huff, Thor nodded and continued his work, his movements echoing in the concrete chamber. In the back of his mind, Loki knew that his brother was right, though. Five months ago, he never would have been so careless as to get a victim’s blood on his suede car seats. But, now that he had you in his life, all of his passions seemed to be reigniting. For one, he’d never had as much sex in his previous relationships as he was having with you. He also never felt the need to talk to someone as much as he spoke with you; he hadn’t had many girlfriends or boyfriends in the past, but the ones he’d had always complained about him being too distant, too aloof, too ‘unfeeling’. Now, though, he found himself craving you and your company at all times during the day, and his alone time was less and less precious to him as he considered how much better it would be having you by his side.

However, as those passions rose, others did as well. You and your newest novel were a constant source of inspiration to him, and his lust for blood had grown considerably. If he kept up the pace that he was at right now, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he slipped up. But he pushed that thought aside, as he always had. That was a bridge he would cross when he came upon it.

“…Will you ever tell (Y/N)?”

Thor’s question was sudden, and it made his hands still as he reached for the staple gun.

“…Are you suggesting that I do?”

“Of course not.” Thor shook his head, biting back a curse as he tried stretching a length of suede over the car seat’s frame. “At least, not right now. I think both of us know that it wouldn’t end well. But this is a…mammoth secret to keep from a significant other, Loki. And if you weren’t able to hide it from me, there will come a day when you won’t be able to hide it from her, either. Not if you’re going to keep her in your life.”

“You didn’t find out until I was twenty,” he countered. “And you only found out because I got sloppy.”

“I still knew that there was something off. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I suspected the truth for years before I caught you in the act.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t know what was more surprising to him – the truth, or the fact that his brother was still able to take him off guard, even after all of the years spent together.

“…Truthfully?”

“Of course, Loki. I knew you weren’t sneaking out at night to go clubbing.” He chuckled a bit at the thought, though his laughter died the second he saw the look Loki shot him. “I saw you burning your clothes once, in the field behind our house. We were 17 at the time, I think. And I knew you wouldn’t burn them unless it were to hide…well. Bloodstains. It was the only explanation for why you decided to burn them in the middle of the night, at least.

“But I told myself that I was wrong. People do that, you know; when someone you love hurts you, or when they do something wrong, you know it. But you lie to yourself anyways.”

There was a long, heavy silence before the two brothers got back to work, one that was only broken several minutes later, when they were mostly finished.

“Loki?”

“Mm?”

Loki looked up, catching a solemn expression on Thor’s face that immediately didn’t sit right with him. For all of his sociopathic tendencies towards most people, he didn’t like to see his typically jovial sibling so serious.

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be you,” Thor sighed. “I’ve never fully understood how your mind works, but I know that it’s hard for you to let people in. So I’m happy for you and (Y/N). I am. But I also know that, someday, she’s going to find out. It can either be from you slipping up, or from you telling her outright. But, someday, she’s going to find out.

“I meant what I said – when you find out that someone you love is bad, and that they’ve done bad things, you lie to yourself before accepting the truth. Just…promise me that you’ll look out for when she starts lying to herself about you. Alright?”

Loki swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he thought about you, about how your face would twist into an expression of fear, of disgust, of hatred, when you finally found out about him. And his heart sank as he pictured the fragile reality you two had been living in all of a sudden crumpling into ash. He couldn’t even bear the thought of losing you, but what other choice would he have if you found him out?

“What are you suggesting I do when she finds out?” he asked, a slight waver making its way through the syllables despite his best interest.

“I’m asking what you’re prepared to do, brother. Think it over, and please, just be careful.”

____________

You woke up the next day to find a text waiting for you from an unknown number, but as soon as you opened it, a wide smile came over your face.

Loki wouldn’t give me your number, so I had to get it out of his phone while he slept. But I wanted to tell you before I fly back to London that it was lovely meeting you, and I’m very happy my brother finally found someone he loves. -Thor

The text was sent at 6:14am, so you knew that Thor was likely already on his plane, but you still tapped out a message before getting up and starting your day.

It was great to meet you, too! Have a safe trip back.

With that, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and went about your morning routine, sending Loki a quick good morning text as you ate breakfast. You were planning on finishing up the last chapter of your coroner story, and you were excited to let him read it that evening when it was done. He’d been so supportive throughout the entire writing process that you were making record time on it; even your editor was surprised at how productive you’d been lately, and you were anxious for his thoughts on the ending.

As you sat down at your computer to type it up, though, you saw that you had an email from your publisher, and your heartrate skyrocketed as you opened it up. You’d sent them the first five edited chapters a few weeks back, and even though you already had several published books, you still got excited anytime you heard back from them.

Your heart only beat faster as you read through their email, and though you’d only just sat down, you were soon leaping out of your chair once you were done. They were going to publish it! At least, they were going to as soon as you had all of the chapters. You’d been concerned that your main character wouldn’t have as much appeal as others of yours had in the past, but as it turned out, they loved Olivia.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your phone was out of your pocket and you were dialing Loki’s number, your fingers trembling in excitement. You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for him to pick up, and when he finally did, he barely had time to say hello before you were telling him the good news.

“Hello, darling-“

“LOKI I HEARD BACK FROM MY PUBLISHER!” you cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Also hello! Good morning, my love.”

Loki’s velvety laugh only added to your elation, and you quickly ran up to your bedroom to start getting dressed.

“Good morning to you, too. I take it the news was good?”

“It was amazing news! Fantastic news, actually. I was going to finish the final chapter today, but now I’m too excited to focus!”

“Well, love, I’m sure that if you want to just take today to celebrate, it won’t put you too far behind schedule.”

“Speaking of celebrating, can I bring lunch by today on your break? If work isn’t too busy for you, that is.”

“That should be fine, darling; work is actually quite slow.”

“Perfect! I’m going to start getting dressed, but text me which restaurant you’d like, and I’ll pick it up. My treat!”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you around noon, then.”

After you two said your goodbyes, you flew through getting ready and ran a few errands before lunch time came around. Loki, as usually, had told you that he was fine with anything and that you should pick the restaurant, so you swung by your favorite bistro before taking a cab to Bellevue Hospital, waving at the front desk staff as you passed by. They all recognized you at this point from your previous visits to see Loki on his break, and they all smiled and waved back as you made your way to the elevators.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned to see one of the receptionists calling you over, and so you shifted the food boxes in your hands and approached the desk.

“Dr. Odinson asked me to tell you that he’s in his office – it’s on the same floor as the morgue, but take a left instead of a right when you get out of the elevators. His is the third office on the left.”

After thanking her for letting you know, you headed down that way, shivering as you stepped out into the cold basement floor. His office had a bronze name placard on it that had Loki’s name on it, and so, after a quiet knock, you walked in to find him sitting behind a tidy desk, tapping away at his laptop furiously.

“I come bearing gifts!” you announced, causing his head to pop up from staring at his screen.

“Come in, love,” he smiled, standing up to help you with the food. “Thank you so much for lunch.”

“Don’t mention it! I wanted to celebrate the latest book, and I can think of no way I’d like to celebrate more than to spend time with the man I love. …And that was incredibly cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Loki laughed, pulling the chair in front of his desk out for you. “But it was also very sweet, and I appreciate it more than you realize.”

After setting your food down on the desk, you sat down, not realizing that Loki wasn’t going back to his side of the desk until you heard the click of a lock sliding shut behind you. Turning around, you watched as Loki stepped away from the door, approaching you with a conniving glint in his eyes.

“Did…you just lock the door?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I did,” he confirmed. He didn’t elaborate further before sinking down onto his knees in front of you, and you only caught on to his intent after he gently took the to-go cup out of your hands to rest it on his desk.

“…Am I stuck in here with you, or are you stuck in here with me?” you joked, starting to squirm in your chair as Loki’s hands came down onto your knees.

The only answer you got was a wink before his lips were on yours, and all other thoughts fizzled out as his palms started creeping up your thighs, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your jeans. His tongue tasted like coffee as it glided over your own, and a small moan escaped your lips when his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Are you sure about this?” you whispered as he started unbuttoning your pants. “I mean… What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, love,” he assured you, slowly dragging your zipper down before beginning to slide your jeans off. “No one can stop us from having a little celebration. As long as you can keep quiet, that is.”

You lifted your hips as he tugged your trousers down your legs, taking your panties with them, and you shivered when you felt the cold leather chair against your exposed skin. Biting your lip, you slowly nodded your head, spreading your legs wider as Loki stooped down to place open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. It was wrong; you knew that there were other doctors in the offices right next to his, and you had no idea how thick or thin the walls were. Could they hear how hard you were suddenly breathing? Would someone passing by be able to hear the low, muffled groans Loki was making as he nipped and sucked hickeys into your skin?

As if sensing your thoughts, Loki glanced upwards as he spread your thighs even further apart, his lips twitching up into a smirk before he suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass closer to the edge of the chair. In the same instance, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his nose just barely brushing against your clit as his tongue started lapping at your entrance. Your eyes rolled back he slipped it inside of you, the vibrations from his voice like bolts of lightning as he let out a guttural growl. He’d commented before on how much he loved eating you out, and you had no reason to doubt him as he thrust his tongue deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Loki…” You kept your voice at a soft whisper, gripping his hair as his tongue started alternating between thrusting into you and tracing patterns into your clit. Your hips jolted every time he swirled his tongue over your swollen bud, and it wasn’t long until they started rocking up against his face of their own accord. If you were at home, you’d already be begging for more or moaning his name over and over again, but now you were acutely conscious of every sound the two of you were making.

The panting of your breath and the obscene, slick noise of his tongue moving against you seemed to echo in the small room. With every shift of your hips, the chair you were in creaked, and you were soon fighting not to move too much for fear that it would be too loud. You were biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly tasted blood, but the pleasure Loki was bringing you overshadowed any pain or discomfort.

Just as you felt the edge of your orgasm starting to approach, though, he was pulling away, licking his lips and watching your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to guide him back with the hands you had locked in his hair.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck, I was getting close-“

“Don’t worry, love,” he interrupted, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m far from through with you.”

And that was all the warning you got before he scooped you up, setting you down onto his desk before you could do anything but let out a surprised gasp. At some point while he was eating you out, he must have taken his cock out of his pants, and now he was pushing you to lay on your back as he lined up with your entrance.

You gripped the edge of his desk so hard that your knuckles turned pale, but you still weren’t fully prepared for him to abruptly shove his cock inside of you, so hard that it pushed the air out of your lungs and pried a sharp moan from your lips. His hand came down over your mouth at its sound, and he leaned over you until your face was only inches from his.

“You have to stay quiet,” he panted, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back into you. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You hurriedly shook your head no, and he nodded before pulling his hand away and sliding it between your bodies. You nearly moaned again once his fingertips found your clit, though, and you pressed your own hand to your mouth as he began playing with it in time with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he purred, his own voice fighting back a moan as he started a fast rhythm. “Of course… Maybe you do want us to get caught.”

He punctuated his statement with a hard buck of his hips, and you pressed the back of your hand even harder to your lips as it startled another cry out you. The desk was beginning to creak in time with his movements, and you knew that anyone who walked by outside would be able to hear it. You just hoped that they couldn’t also hear Loki’s raspy breathing, or the way his balls were smacking against your ass with every thrust forward.

“Maybe you do want someone to hear me fucking you. Is that it?” he continued, his voice not once rising above a low growl. “Do you want them all to know that you’re mine? That you’re letting me use you, fuck you, right here in my office? Anyone with a key could get in, love. A janitor, another doctor… Anyone could come in and see what a good little slut you’re being for me. And you love that, don’t you?”

His thumb was moving faster and faster against your clit, and you were rapidly approaching your orgasm; you couldn’t remember the last time a partner had brought you so close so quickly. This was so different from how Loki usually was; typically, he was gentle with you, treating you like you would shatter if he were to grip you too tightly or kiss you too hard. But there were times, you’d found, when something else would peak through the cracks; some nights, his hand found its way around your throat, or his voice dropped into something predatory, threatening.

This was one of those times, evidently. And it always made something else rise up within you – the desire to submit, to bend to him completely, to let him have you and use you however he wanted. And so you did.

With a long, loud moan, you felt yourself cumming around his cock, so hard that it made your eyes roll back and your back arch up off of the desk, bending at an almost unnatural angle as your cunt clenched around him. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard him let out a muffled curse, and his thrusts began getting even harder, even faster, and through it all you laid back and took it. Your body was limp and pliable from your orgasm, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he took what he wanted from it.

It wasn’t long, though, until he pulled out, stroking his cock a few more times before you felt his cum against your thighs and belly, staining your shirt with his release as he leaned heavily over you, catching his breath. After letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he leaned over, kissing you gently before resting his head on your chest.

“…Wow,” you breathed, settling one of your hands on the back of his head as your other arm drew him closer.

“I agree with that assessment,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over your heart before lazily turning towards you. “You did say you wanted to celebrate, though.”

A giggle escaped your lips at that, and he smiled softly before kissing you once again and slowly drawing himself up to full height.

“I’m…sorry, if I was too rough,” he began, but you sat up and pressed a finger to his lips, shaking your head.

“I liked it. Loki, I know you’d never hurt me,” you assured him. “And I know you don’t really mean it when you do things like call me a slut.”

“Good,” he nodded, his eyes skating over your face. “Because I don’t. And I would never, ever, hurt you.”

“Then don’t apologize for getting a little rough,” you countered, pecking his cheek before starting to stand on wobbly legs. “Because you better believe I enjoyed it.”

“Mm. I could tell.”

You swatted playfully at his arm before straightening your jeans and grabbing a tissue from his desk, dabbing at the cum he’d left on your shirt before giving up on the task entirely and deciding to just keep your coat buttoned up on the ride home.

“…(Y/N)?”

You turned to find Loki staring at you, having already smoothed his appearance back to its usual unrumpled state. The look in his eyes gave you pause, though – it was the same look that he’d had the night before, when he’d looked like he had something to tell you before deciding against it. Unbidden, fear suddenly swept over you, and you had the worst feeling that he was going to break things off, that he was going to tell you that he’d rushed into things and that he didn’t feel the same way as you.

Gulping, you stepped closer, fighting against the trembling in your hands as he took them between his, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before looking up at you once more.

“I’ve…been doing a lot of thinking, and Thor’s visit yesterday made me realize something,” he began.

“I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before. And, if I’m being honest, sometimes it terrifies me. There are… There are things about me that I haven’t told anyone besides Thor, and even then, there are things he still doesn’t know.

“I came to the realization last night, though, that I want you to know everything about me. I want you to accept me, fully, as I’ve accepted you. And even if I’m not ready to share it all with you, I know that I want us to grow to that point together. I want you to be mine, yes, but I want to be yours, too. Wholly and completely.”

He took a deep breath, then, and your eyes grew wide as he reached into his pocket, taking out a small box and handing it to you.

“I had this made earlier today, after I dropped Thor off at the airport. And I realize that, yes, this is rushing things a bit, and I want you to know that it’s alright if you need to say no or if you need to think it over. But I’m ready to take the next step, whenever you are.”

Feeling as if time was suddenly moving in slow motion, you opened the box, tearing your eyes away from Loki just long enough to look down…

…and see a key waiting for you.

Immediately, your heart soared, and you looked up to see a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Will you move in with me, my love?”

And even though, yes, it was probably too soon, even though you’d only known Loki for four months, even though all of the logic inside of you was screaming against it, you didn’t hesitate before answering him.

“Yes!”  

____________

A/N: WOW it took forever to write this. I am so sorry! 2020 has really had its way with me, as it has with all of us, and I can’t apologize enough for letting my writing get so far behind. THANK YOU to anyone and everyone reading this, though. I hope you all are having a safe holiday season, and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever wanna talk! You guys are the best readers in the world, and I appreciate every single one of you! 

[winterscaptain]

a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone. 

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork. 

You snort. “So are you.” 

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.” 

“Get out of my office.” 

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile. 

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file. 

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes. 

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.  

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.” 

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work. 

“Jayje?” 

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?” 

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.” 

She squints. “Why d’you say that?” 

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.” 

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested. 

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.” 

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds. 

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today. 

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.” 

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?” 

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.” 

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself. 

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.” 

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.” 

Emily snorts. 

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.” 

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?” 

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.” 

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.” 

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.” 

There we go. 

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?” 

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers. 

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.” 

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch. 

He sounds weird without it. 

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.” 

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.” 

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’” 

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker. 

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.” 

“Good luck.” 

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell. 

“Hey, Hotch.” 

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.” 

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” 

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene. 

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again. 

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers. 

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.” 

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?” 

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.” 

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God. 

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch. 

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?” 

Ugh. Good. 

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs. 

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.” 

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries. 

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.” 

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass. 

That’s a good bumper sticker. 

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side. 

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.” 

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh. 

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.  

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme. 

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?” 

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible. 

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes. 

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder. 

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.” 

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle. 

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks. 

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says. 

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.” 

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.” 

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice. 

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?” 

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh. 

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”  

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?” 

“Affirmative.” 

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...” 

It really takes everything in you not to laugh. 

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.” 

Emily pulls a face. 

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.  

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.” 

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?” 

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?” 

She nods in the affirmative. 

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.” 

Tell me about it, Pen. 

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?” 

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.” 

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one. 

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.” 

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.  

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?” 

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.” 

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer. 

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.” 

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing. 

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron. 

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?” 

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds. 

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.” 

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.” 

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.” 

“Why would they go for that?” You ask. 

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you. 

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.” 

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.” 

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside. 

“What’s up?” 

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.” 

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.” 

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns. 

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.” 

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers. 

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.” 

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender. 

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.” 

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs. 

“Yeah, right.” 

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling. 

 Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.” 

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work. 

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.” 

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?” 

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?” 

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?” 

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.” 

Just then, the apartment phone rings. 

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.” 

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.” 

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?” 

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.” 

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.” 

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone. 

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep. 

“...Aaron.” 

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice. 

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening. 

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button. 

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?” 

Nice start. 

The game has begun. 

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What? 

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?” 

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.  

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.” 

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...” 

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation. 

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.” 

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.” 

“Did you walk out on your family?” 

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.” 

“Do you have kids?” 

“I have a son.” 

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son. 

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time. 

“How often do you see him?” She asks. 

 “I try to see him every week.” 

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.  

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.” 

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side. 

She is a profiler. 

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours. 

Same skillset, very different application. 

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.” 

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically. 

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope. 

“How am I a whore?” He asks. 

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.” 

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.” 

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.” 

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going. 

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?” 

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.” 

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.” 

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.” 

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.” 

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending. 

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?” 

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.” 

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.” 

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon. 

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team. 

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father. 

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say. 

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.” 

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.” 

“What’s next?” 

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.” 

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.” 

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage. 

Focus. 

“No,” he says. “Think about it.” 

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.” 

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.” 

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough. 

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case. 

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door. 

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon. 

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.” 

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.” 

There’s a question in your eyes. 

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.” 

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it. 

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.  

Stay here. It says. Stay close. 

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm. 

You feel for her. 

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay. 

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask. 

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now. 

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.” 

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her. 

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?” 

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.  

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer. 

It’s because he is good.

A good man. 

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace. 

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes. 

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever. 

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card. 

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. 

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe. 

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body. 

“I’m sorry, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.” 

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him. 

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away. 

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.” 

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder. 

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.” 

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television. 

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work. 

+++

tagging:  @aaronhotchnerr @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 1)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you’d probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on the prologue!! like WOW i couldn't have expected that big of a response so THANK YOU!!! As a reminder: I already have the first 17 chapters out on ao3, so I will be updating on here pretty quickly! This takes place two years after the prologue, and this is where the actual storyline starts!

masterlist || read on ao3

Anything you say can and will be held against you

So only say my name

It will be held against you

-Fall Out Boy, “Just One Yesterday”

Present Day- Two Years Later

You tugged at the handcuff that was attaching you to the interrogation table, hoping that if you glared at it enough, it would just go away. One minute, you were at your apartment and getting ready to go out with some of your friends, and the next minute Metro D.C. police were banging on your door, ordering you to go with them, no charges and no explanation.

So now you were just stuck, sitting and waiting for somebody to tell you what the hell this all was about. Law school had taught you enough about interrogation tactics, and they were pulling out all of the stops- turning down the room temperature, forcing you to sit in the most uncomfortable chair you’ve ever been in, and just making you be by yourself in the metal room. A small part of you was nervous, but mostly you were just confused. You couldn’t think of anything you’d done that would warrant your arrest.

Just as the isolation of the room was about to get to you, the door swung open and in walked two people. The first one was a petite blonde woman and following her was a younger looking man in a cardigan. You narrowed your eyes slightly at the site of them. You had expected the usual “good cop/bad cop” technique, but neither of these cops looked very intimidating.

“Hi there,” the woman spoke, sliding into the chair across from you. “My name is Agent Jareau and this is Dr. Reid. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

Her name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you knew it from. You raised an eyebrow and jutted your head towards Dr. Reid. “Is the handsome one not an agent?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

Dr. Reid seemed unphased by your question, as if he was used to that question. “I am an agent. But I also have three doctorates,” he answered.

You just smirked at him before looking back at Agent Jareau. She had placed a file on the table, the seal of the FBI practically staring you in the face. Whatever they brought you in for was an FBI matter? Oh, you were definitely screwed. You tried to keep your cool. “So are you guys going to actually charge me with anything, or are you just going to hold me for 72 hours until you find something to stick?” you accused.

Agent Jareau shook her head, and you were still desperately trying to remember how you knew that name. “The faster you cooperate, the faster we can let you go.” It didn’t go unnoticed to you that she refused to answer your question. She leaned over the table slightly to slide the file towards you and you caught a glimpse of her ID. Everything came back to you at once.

Jennifer Jareau. FBI. Business cards. “You can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU…” Holy shit, you did know that name.

You laughed softly to yourself and crossed your legs as the memories came flooding back. “Okay, I’ll cooperate,” you agreed, but you were looking directly at the two way mirror. “But only if I can speak to your unit chief. It still is Aaron Hotchner, correct?” Your voice was innocent enough to not be too suspicious, but you knew it would drive Aaron crazy. It was the same voice you would use when he had a fistfull of your hair and you were promising to be his good girl.

You could only imagine what was going on behind that two way mirror; Aaron’s team looking at him with complete and utter confusion, trying to figure out how you knew him, all while Aaron was probably clenching his teeth, red with anger. Maybe if you made him mad enough, he would bend you over the interrogation table once everybody else had left.

Jennifer and Dr. Reid shared a quick glance before looking back at you. Dr. Reid spoke first. “It would be best if we could go over our questions with you first.”

You bopped your head, pretending to think it over. “I get it, the two of you have a job to do and you have a strategy to stay in control, so I’ll give you guys a choice. You can let me speak to Agent Hotchner or I lawyer up and invoke the 5th.”

Like clockwork, the door swung open violently and Aaron stormed in. “I’ll take it from here,” he ordered, and the other two agents quickly shuffled out of the room.

He sat down in the seat across from you and you just raised the hand that was handcuffed to the table, wiggling your fingers. He was pissed, you could tell, and you loved every second of it. You leaned over the table, signalling for him to move closer to you. He hesitated, which earned him a roll of your eyes, but he eventually leaned over the table too.

“If you wanted me in handcuffs again for you, you didn’t have to go through all this effort. My phone number hasn’t changed,” you whispered, low enough so that the group watching on the other side of the mirror couldn’t hear. He refused to answer and instead just pulled back to his normal seated position. Ever the good agent, Aaron’s face went back to it’s normal, stoic look, and it made you pout. You wanted to get more of a rise out of him.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he said cooly. “Why don’t we get started?” You realized with a sinking feeling that he was already starting to lose interest in you flirting, his attention focused back on the task at hand, attention that you selfishly wanted all to yourself.

You slipped off the heels you were wearing and stretched your leg out so that your foot could brush against his leg. If you couldn’t touch him with your hands right now, you were going to make sure he could feel you in some way. His eyes shot up to yours, giving you a warning look, as if to say “Stop right now or I’m going to make you.”

You knew that look too well, craved for it even. You just responded with a smirk and dropped your foot, relishing in the fact that he actually looked slightly disappointed that you stopped.

“How are Haley and Jack doing, Aaron?” you asked lazily, leaning back in your chair. “Visiting them more often?”

Aaron cleared his throat and ran his hand down his tie to flatten it, as if it had come out of place. He was always so put together at work. “Jack is fine. Haley passed away a while ago,” he said quickly, and guilt immediately engulfed you.

You lowered your gaze so that you were staring at the interrogation table. “Oh,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry.” And you really were sorry. Sure, your relationship, or lack of relationship, with Haley was weird. You were sleeping with her ex before the divorce papers had time to be fully submitted, and even though Aaron was well in his right to be with whoever he wanted, the two of you still found yourselves sneaking around with each other. But you never had anything against her personally- she seemed like a great mother and obviously made Aaron happy for however long they were married.

Besides, you could take a guess as to what happened to Haley. Your fling with Aaron lasted for a fun few months, neither of you ever expecting anything other than sex whenever you met up, so when you and Aaron had decided to stop seeing each other, it was completely amicable. He had explained that the BAU was closing in on a serial killer who was going after him and his family, and you did not want to be involved in that mess. The fact that Haley died right as a serial killer was chasing her… that definitely wasn’t just a coincidence.

The tension was thick in the room as the two of you desperately searched for how to continue the conversation. What were you supposed to say after finding out your fuck buddy’s ex wife was murdered?

You started talking before your brain could even process what you were saying. “Well, like told you, if you ever need somebody to help you pick up those broken pieces...”

He ignored you, electing to direct the conversation in his own direction. “You know, I read the paper you were working on,” he said casually, and that sure caught you by surprise.

“You did?” you asked.

“You piqued my interest,” he admitted. “Your professor and I worked on a few cases together, so he gave me a copy. It was good. You are much more professional on paper.”

“I could say the same about you,” you countered, and he gave you a hint of a genuine smile.

“Although I did notice that you didn’t mention The People vs. Michaelson anywhere in it.” There was something in his voice that put you on edge. You could feel yourself walking into his trap, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know more.

You shrugged. “Well, I got some shit information about the case.”

For a split second, you thought you saw a flash of the old Aaron, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and he was business as usual. “What intrigued me even more, however,” he continued, completely ignoring your previous comment. “Was that you didn’t mention recidivism at all, which is what that case is all about. Your thesis was on jury selection. Why ask me about the case if you weren’t going to use the information for school?”

You glared at him and clenched your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms. What a dick. He knew why you were interested in the case- it mirrored your father’s situation almost perfectly. You were 12 the first time your father was arrested. When your mom realized that your dad was involved with some shady people, she immediately turned him into the cops to protect you. The prosecutor barely even tried during the case and your dad was in and out of prison within two years. The day he was released, he came right back to your home and killed your mom out of revenge. He’s now rotting in a max security prison for life, but you were still angry that he even had the opportunity to come after your mom. It’s why you wanted to become a prosecutor in the first place, so that you could ensure these criminals were actually brought to justice.

Aaron knew all that. You realized as he began to inch the case file closer to you that he was just trying to knock you off balance. The actual interrogation hadn’t even started yet. “And you say that I’m the one who gets under people’s skin,” you snapped at him.

Aaron humed to himself, arrogance oozing off of him. If you weren’t so angry at him, you would have thought it was hot. “You’re currently interning at DuPont and Associates?” You nodded, annoyed at him brushing off your last comment. “What do you know about the recent string of murders in the area?” Aaron asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his question. “Um… Just what they’re saying on the news? Somebody has been killing a bunch of people whose cases were dismissed because of technicalities- their Miranda rights were read incorrectly and that kind of stuff. I haven’t really been keeping up,” you admitted, still unsure of why you were there.

Aaron flipped open the case files, and instead of gruesome crime scene photos, you just saw legal briefs. More shocking, however, was that they were all legal briefs you had helped write. “Each of these victims had their initial cases through duPont and Associates, and we found that you were the only person who assisted on every case. What did you think about those dismissals? Some of these people really should have been locked up, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried desperately to find the words to say. Unconsciously, you started to tug at the handcuff again, as if they would suddenly just release you if you fought it enough. “Maybe, but that’s not really my decision,” you said disdainfully. Then the fear and realization slowly creeped into you. “Wait you don’t… you guys don’t think I did this, do you?” Your voice was rough and panicky.

Aaron placed his hands on the cold metal of the interrogation table, his fingers interlocked. His FBI Unit Chief exterior melted away ever so slightly. “No, I don’t,” he said softly, and his use of “I” instead of “We” did not go unnoticed by you. You weren’t sure if you were comforted by that or not. “But you are our best lead right now, and I think you know more than you realize. We have reason to believe that the unsub works for the law firm you’re interning at and is playing out a vigilante fantasy and considering you are the only one who actually worked on every single case, we need to use you and your position at the firm to get more intel.”

We need to use you. He realized his slip before he even finished his sentence. It was innocuous enough that his team probably didn’t even notice it; He was just letting a potential witness know that they were going to be an important part of the investigation. But you knew Aaron better than that, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to figure out how to go back on what he just said.

You gave him a smirk and brought your elbows up on the table, steepling your fingers. Of course you were going to help them, whatever they needed. You’d do that even if Aaron wasn’t involved. But after being forcibly brought to the interrogation room, you figured you could make him sweat a little. “Oh Aaron, I’m flattered that you think I could be an asset to the BAU’s investigation. But if you want something from me, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

You got him right where you wanted him. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy with the roll reversal, using his own words against him. But you missed the playful banter between you and Aaron, and nobody knew how to get you off the way he did. Aaron had quite literally ruined sex for you, much to your disappointment. The other people you had slept with since meeting Aaron all lacked the confidence and intelligence that Aaron brought to every meeting, and they could never walk that fine line of fucking you like they adored you and hated you at the same time.

The way that Aaron would demand you to ask and use your words was more than just a way for him to remain in control, although you knew that was definitely part of it. And it was more than just checking for consent- that always came earlier and you had your safeword. No, it was more than all of that. He wanted to hear you beg for the things you wanted, as if he wanted to be validated; He always wanted to know that you still wanted him, which you did. So you just kept asking him for things, and he happily kept giving them to you.

Aaron looked downright murderous, his eyebrows scrunched together and his breathing getting heavier. He stood up and slammed the case file shut. “I’m not going to ask for anything, because where I’m standing, I have the control here. In case you forgot, you’re in handcuffs and I can walk out of here whenever I want.” But even as he said it, he stayed exactly where he was, his hands on the table and leaning down so that he was closer to you.

In return, you just arched your eyebrow at him, waiting for his question. He had to ask you for the sake of his job and the case and you both knew it, and you got a strange satisfaction from watching him have to ask you for something for once. He stared at you for a few moments, jaw clenching, until he realized the entire BAU team was behind the two way mirror watching this situation go down. “Will you please help us with the case?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You gave him a smug smile, which only served to irritate him further. “I would love to,” you told him, your voice too sweet and too innocent. “Now can you please take my handcuffs off?”

Aaron walked towards you wordlessly, taking the keys out of his pockets. “You’ll still have to wait here for a few minutes so that you can sign some papers,” he told you, keeping his voice even, but it all changed as he kneeled next to you, slowly unlocking the handcuffs. His fingers lingered on your skin for far too long to be considered appropriate. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he whispered in your ear, voice low enough so that nobody could hear what he was saying. “You’re going to be in handcuffs for the rest of night while I punish you for that little show you decided to give everybody. Did you already forget how to not be a brat? Do I have to teach you again?”

His words made your arousal shoot straight to your core. You were released with a soft click! and you rubbed your irritated wrist lightly. “Yes,” you practically moaned, and you were sure that your face was flushed. And just like that, it was as if only a few days had passed since you and Aaron had last seen each other, instead of two years. The two of you fell back into an easy rhythm. “I still live in the same apartment. Five minutes from here.”

With that, Aaron stormed out of the interrogation room, already barking orders at the cops. “Get her processed and out of here quickly, I don’t want to spend anymore time on this,” he demanded, making a beeline to grab his stuff. Unfortunately for him, Rossi was standing right in front of Aaron’s bag, a knowing smirk on his face. Aaron stopped mid step and groaned in annoyance. “Dave, don’t.”

Rossi just ignored him. “Old friend?” he asked, stepping aside just enough to let Aaron grab his bag.

Aaron looked around quickly and was relieved to see that there were no other BAU members near them. “You could say that,” Aaron mumbled and started to walk to the doors.

To his dismay, Rossi just followed him. “She’s pretty,” Rossi hummed, and Aaron hated how easily Rossi was able to keep this conversation so casual. “Not your usual type, though.” It didn’t take a profiler to get the underlying comment: She’s young.

Aaron took an audible breath, keeping his eyes on the exit sign that seemed to be getting further and further away. “Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off, unable to find a good response.

“When did you meet her?”

Aaron paused, deciding how honest he was going to be. He figured that if anybody was going to find out, it would be Rossi, and if he was honest with Rossi now, they would be able to keep it a secret from the rest of the team. He cleared his throat. “An alumni event at George Washington. Before Foyet but after the divorce.” Another pause. “Right after the divorce,” he clarified.

Rossi just nodded understandably, a soft “Ah” coming from his lips. He would push the full story out of Aaron later, but it was obvious that Aaron was just desperate to get out of the police station. “Okay, well... I will let the team know about your emergency meeting with Strauss that she just called, which is why you’re leaving so quickly. And if they ask, from what you’re telling me, Y/N is just one of Sean’s old friends from before he dropped out of law school. I’m pretty sure you never got along with his friends, am I correct?” Sometimes, Rossi was too good at thinking on his feet.

Aaron turned to face Rossi, his mouth open and ready to argue, but he knew there was no point. With Rossi’s lie, it would keep the team from asking too many questions, at least until Aaron got his need for you out of his system. Just one night, he promised himself. That’s all I’ll need. So instead of arguing, Hotch just nodded at Rossi, a hint of a smile on his face. It made it all worth it, in Rossi’s eyes. Aaron hadn’t been this excited about a girl since Haley’s death. He deserved a night of fun. “Thank you,” Aaron breathed before swiftly stepping out of the police station.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 27, Post #2 by @booksforevermore13

Author: @booksforevermore13

Summary:

"Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough."

Ginny’s spent the last two hours alone in a coffee shop. Luckily, a handsome stranger steps in

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Prompt:

Meet-cute

Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

...

“Sorry I’m so late love, traffic is crazy right now,” he said loudly, overly loud to be called normal. Ginny looked around, sure the entire cafe could hear him from where he was standing. Not to mention he was an unnaturally handsome man, and men like that tend to grab a lot of attention in a coffee shop.

Did she mention she had never seen him before? 

Ginny watched him glance around and glare at a man staring at them, then bend down towards her. She almost automatically leaned away from him, and in all likelihood, she supposed he could see that she was uncomfortable, for he made sure to keep a safe distance between them.

Somehow, she felt that he was going to do that anyway.

“I’m Harry, just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn’t bother to show up is a git.”

Ginny frowned, dawning on her that this man she’d never seen in her life, who could essentially be a serial killer for all she cared, was trying to save her from the embarrassment that would follow when she got up after her two hour long wait in solitude.

Okay, fine. 

She lied.

Her boyfriend, no, she’d not considered him one for months now, but anyway, the git stood her up. Technically, he’d always been a git, but she’d thought he’d have the least decency to at least call. 

 Not that she hadn’t suffered the quiet glances enough, but she particularly didn’t want to see the pity that followed her when she got up to leave.

The self-respecting part of her wouldn’t have waited after the fifteen-minute mark, but she’d stuck around for the sole purpose of being miserable, because there really wasn’t anything else to do. And of course, for the hope that when and if he finally showed up, she’d enjoy giving him a piece of her mind. In the middle of the damn shop.

So, Ginny couldn’t help but smile for the first time that evening, because whoever this stranger was, he was doing a damn good job at turning her evening around.

She watched as he looked around the cafe, and pulled out the chair opposite her, stumbling while trying to sit. He didn’t make eye contact, but when he did, Ginny very nearly was taken aback by the dark green of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t have sat here hadn’t it been for the - “

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

 This close, she could see a lighter green coronary around his iris and try as she did, Ginny couldn’t help the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him, and though she was glad he did, she was slightly embarrassed he had had to.

“Sure I did,” he replied while grinning, and it was one of those grins which were infectious enough to make even the likes of her smile. With one hand, she watched as he brushed his hair back, a few strands still over his eyes and Ginny struggled to keep the red away as their eyes met.

“I’m Ginny,” she said. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, and Ginny, for a second there, was overcome with how much of a gentleman he was. Surprisingly enough, she found herself knowing the meaning behind the word, the first time she’d happened to do so, for Michael had been everything but.

“You know,” she shrugged, “if you want, you can walk out right now, right now, and you don’t need to—”

“Why do you assume I want to leave?”

Ginny blinked, taken aback by the interruption. “I just thought,” she stuttered, “you’d, I’d- I just thought you did this out of pity, which is what is expected but —”

“I didn’t...”

“I don’t need it,”she continued, “trust me, I am well aware the person who left me hanging was a git but — hang on, what?”

And Harry laughed, ducking his head, and Ginny felt like she was eleven all over again, blushing at the slightest laugh, riling up at the smallest comment, her hormones all over the place.

“I’m not doing this out of pity,” Harry said, and then he blushed, much to her surprise, red spreading down his neck, and cheeks. “I did this because, I, uhh,” he fumbled for words, and became even more flustered as Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s nothing actually.”

“But?”

“You’re beautiful.”

She laughed at that, relaxing into her seat, enjoying how he’d riled up at that, his face completely red. 

For the first time that day, let herself relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. Was it relief or all of her pent up emotions at once? She didn’t know, but all she’d felt for the last few hours had been anger, annoyance, hurt, though the latter she refused to admit. She could only feel so much at once, she knew that, yet Michael had only added to her troubles and Ginny had let him.

She hated herself for that.

A moment later, she spoke up again, leaning towards Harry, still enjoying how he got all flustered by her words. Clearly, he wasn’t as smooth as she thought he had been.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Who’s that girl sitting back there,” she gestured, “the one who’s been looking at us for the last few minutes from over her menu?

Harry whirled around, and then started chuckling. The girl in question dropped down again, and Harry turned back.

“That’s Hermione,” he said. “She’s my sister, friend,” he rubbed his neck again, “best friend.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

Ginny had sat through Luna’s entire date with Rolf, she really couldn’t comment on it. 

A moment later, Harry spoke up again, as if he’d thought of something important and wanted to get it out of the system. “Can I ask you something?” he said, repeating her words from before.

She smiled, sitting back in her seat. “Fire on.”

“I think now would be a good time to order something,” he said quietly. “That waitress over there has been giving us the stink-eye since before I sat here.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Harry nodded.

“She’s been doing that since the last two hours.”

He started laughing again, ducking his head again, and Ginny joined him, shaking her head in disbelief. She was still having a hard time believing that she was this relaxed around a complete stranger when she couldn’t even be this close with her family.

Nevertheless, she called the woman over here, who introduced herself yet again as Alicia, and then proceeded to rip their orders down in her notepad, stalking away afterwards. When she disappeared behind the counter again, Harry looked at her again, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What’d you do to rile her up like that?”

Ginny grinned, returning his look. “I don’t blame her, really,” she said and chuckled, “if I was the one with a customer sitting for two hours straight without even drinking one measly coffee, I would have done more than glare.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

Ginny looked at him, an eyebrow arched. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she teased and Harry scoffed.

“Not even close. I’m trying to, though I don’t think I ever will.” 

“Good that.”

Behind him she saw the girl, Hermione, get up, and as Harry followed her gaze and turned, the girl looked at him, and smiled in reassurance, leaving a dollar note on the table and leaving. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s the one, now you be honest, she’s the one who pushed you to meet me, isn’t she?”

He had a sheepish look on his face as he shrugged, and Ginny threw her head back in laughter.

“How did you figure that one out?”

“You’re not as smooth as you think,” she teased, and Harry winced again, ducking his head as he smiled, and Ginny was glad she wasn’t the only one in their interaction behaving like a complete tween.

She took her time, observing him as the silence came after. It felt….comfortable, sitting with him, joking with him. There was a particular ease between them, one she hadn’t failed to notice, one she hadn’t shared with Michael or anyone she’d dated before.

He was handsome, Harry, with his lopsided glasses, and his green eyes sparkling behind them. If she could be so poetic herself, she’d have described it as a storm brewing in his eyes, the green of the forest across her house.

But she hadn’t failed to notice how it was slightly odd that he’d been here at the same time as she, and it was weird because it was a Monday, the busiest day of the week. He wasn’t an athlete, no athlete could be this charming and this flustered at the same time, and she didn’t know any other professions where they had a day off on Monday. 

“What were you doing here?” she asked suddenly, and then winced, wondering if her question had been a bit too forward. 

But Harry only shrugged. “Nothing of importance, really. I had a day off, so I decided to get out of the house for a change.” 

“Sounds reasonable,” she replied. It was quite a mundane reason, nothing like she’d imagined. Nevertheless, she didn’t push him, didn’t ask for details, though that was partly because she knew it wasn’t her place. But over the years, with Michael and Dean and every other bloke she’d been with, constantly nagging her for details, where she’d been, whom she’d been with, why she’d been there with whomever she’d been with, that she knew better.

And she had a strong feeling that Harry appreciated it too.

When their eyes met again, she couldn’t help but smile. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again, and then leaned forward slightly.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, and it was, if she could be so honest (a trait she didn’t possess) concerning that the very first thing Ginny thought was how much of a damn charmer he was and the second: she couldn’t wait to tell Luna.

Not for the first time, she found herself thinking she needed to get a life.

Ginny shrugged. “You’re the one with the plan. I do whatever seems fun at the moment.”

“And what exactly seems fun here right now?”

She looked around, giving a once-over of the place before shaking her head, shrugging.

“Nothing, nada. This is a most literal garbage dump.”

“Then how about we just talk?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, as if contemplating the great mysteries of the universe, before they burst out laughing, her eyes glinting with anticipation. It had been long since she’d felt this, this ridiculous fluttering in her stomach, this tingling she felt every time their fingers brushed together.

God, they were like two giggling teenagers. No wonder everyone was looking at them.

When she checked her watch under the table, it was six in the evening, and night was setting fast, their surroundings already a dusky blue. The door of the coffee shop was open, and every other minute, a huge gust of wind blew in, cool against the summer sun. Other than the two of them, there were only three other people in the shop, and one was just about to leave.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ginny smiled.

“You play for the London Dragons?” 

She frowned, slightly taken aback by how he knew that piece of information before he pointed out her jacket.

“Oh,” she chuckled drily. “Yeah, I do. It’s my last year in college.”

“I see.” 

Consciously, she tugged her sleeves down, clearing her throat in earnest. One minute she wanted to twirl around the cafe twice, giddy with excitement, and the other she wanted to jump twice in her chair in fear and anticipation.

Michael hadn’t been good for her emotions.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “My turn.” She cleared her throat, and Harry raised an eyebrow, to which she wiggled hers.

“Wh…. do you, um, do that?” She asked.

He looked at her in confusion, a slight smile playing on his face. He was adorable, and Ginny was having a hard time keeping herself from smiling too much.

“Do what?”

“This, when you laugh, you duck your head. Why do you do that?”

“I…..uh, I have no idea. It’s habit, I guess.”

“I see.”

They both solemnly looked at each, and then shared a smile, Ginny still feeling quite tingly in her fingers when they touched his. The couple sitting a few chairs away from them shot them a look, after which they had to shut down their sneaky-glancing contest, but that didn’t last long.

“So,” Harry shot her a mirthful smile, “tell me something about yourself.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You save me from a dateless evening and now, you’re letting me talk about myself? Seems like I should be glad I was abandoned.”

“I think you should be more impressed by the fact that I know nothing about you.”

“And why is that?”

“So the chances of me mansplaining are next to none.”

Ginny laughed, sitting up straight in her chair. She folded her hands and looked at him. “Okay, one,” she started, “I, uhh...have six brothers, older, mind you and all of them are dolts of the highest calibre. Two, I have a dog, named Daisy, she’s a Husky, and the one being I love most in the world, and three, I am currently…. single.”

“Three things?”

“It’s your turn now.”

Harry laughed, and then copied her as he too, sat himself in the same position, his hands on the table, fingers drumming to a noiseless tune. “One, I have no siblings,” he clicked his tongue, and then continued. “Two, I….uh, I am an officer in Scotland Yard, under training though,” he said hurriedly as she looked at him in surprise, “and three, I’m twenty three, and single.”

She smirked, sitting back, satisfied, and trying to ignore the fact that he was single too (and failing miserably). “I didn’t know we had an officer in our midst,” she said.

“Under training.”

“Ah, well, potato, potahto.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation, and they sat up as Alicia, the waitress came to their table, holding their order, which she, by all accounts, slammed onto the table.

“Oh well, she’s a pleasant one,” Harry muttered and Ginny smiled into her coffee.

She blew on it and took a sip, before blatantly making a face. “Oh,” she put her coffee down. “That-that’s not good at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s bitter. It’s very bitter.”

“Oh,” Harry passed her a sugar packet, one which she graciously ripped open, dumping it’s contents into her coffee, stirring it, as she looked up at him.

“Can I ask you something?” Ginny gestured at his hair, and consciously, he ran his hand over it, as if he knew what she was talking about.

“What’s,” she hesitated, “that scar under your…your hair?”

She knew she’d messed up at that, for his eyes hardened, and he looked down at his plate. It was clearly a painful subject for him, one he wished to keep private and Ginny felt herself thinking she should have kept herself shut.

“I was in an accident,” he explained as their eyes met and Ginny nodded hurriedly, not asking more. She looked away, though she could feel his gaze on her long after she had turned. 

“I have a feeling you want to ask something,” she smiled, and Harry nodded as he shifted in his seat.

“He, the person who didn’t show up,” he started, “he didn’t call?”

“No,” she replied sharply, before sighing. It was an awfully personal question, but she felt he deserved at least an explanation for why he had had to step in as her faux. “Michael, the boy, the git, and I,” she clicked her tongue, “well, we are too far gone to do something like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry said quietly and Ginny shrugged. She’d never broached the subject before, her and Michael’s relationship, if she could even call it one, partly because she hadn’t bothered, and partly because she didn’t know what to feel about it. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I overstepped, I’m sorry” 

“No that’s alright,” she said, and waved her hands haphazardly around as if they could prove her point. “I mean we were broken up long before this. Four months, actually. This was basically grasping at needles in a haystack.” 

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Why didn’t you break up then?” Harry asked and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. If she had figured that one out, she’d have put an end to this long since.

“I’m a bad girlfriend,” she chuckled drily. “He’s a bad boyfriend. We deserved each other.”

Harry didn’t ask more.

 It was a few long minutes before either of them spoke. Her brain was completely blank, one of those times where she didn’t say anything, didn’t think anything, just stared aimlessly at the sugar dissolving in her coffee.

“You know that gets me thinking,” she started, “why the hell did I date that jackass  in the first place?” Ginny looked at him, a smile playing on her lips, and a need to make the conversation lighter. “The answer to that question— well, I don’t exactly know— but, well, maybe because we were attracted to each other,” she said, nodding mockingly.

“But then that gets you thinking. I am, for example and this is completely hypothetical, attracted to pie,” Harry raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile, “or this coffee for example, but that doesn’t mean I feel the need to date it.”

She looked at him, and he looked at her, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond, and just like that, they burst out laughing again, as if they hadn’t been talking about her sorry excuse for a love life the very other second.

“I think that neither of us are drunk enough for this conversation,” Harry said between chuckles and Ginny laughed harder.

They paused as Alicia, the waitress shushed them from behind the counter, and looked at each other, both of them struggling to keep the chuckles in.

In a fit, she sipped on her coffee, immediately regretting it as she coughed, spitting the coffee back in the mug again.

“This is worse,” she coughed, gulping the water in. “This is like mud. Like bitter mud and sugar.”

Harry looked at her, slightly concerned before he pushed his chair out and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “That’s it.”

Ginny frowned in confusion, as he pushed the chair back in, slightly disheartened by what he was doing, but he only smiled, holding out his hand for her.

“Care to join me?”

Ginny tilted her head, trying out those words in her head and then laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, and Harry looked at her, she was yet once again, captured breathless by his eyes on her.

“Anywhere but here,” he said, and Ginny felt her cheeks heating up.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me out on a date.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I literally just met you!” she exclaimed, chuckling in disbelief. Harry was still looking at her, and she found herself pausing, hesitating and then asking.

“How about, as two people who just met?”

“How about as friends?” Harry countered. 

She shrugged, and then smirked. “Fair enough.” 

So, when he offered his hand again, Ginny took it, and let him pull her up and as Harry smiled back at her with that grin of his, she couldn’t help but grin like that. In a moment of irony, she realised that had Michael not been a bad boyfriend and her, not the essential definition of the Mad Hatter, they would have never been standing here.

He let go of her hand as she stood up, though it lingered near hers long after he’d left it. Ginny didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, smiling, and both of them, completely ignorant of the fact that Alicia was now staring pointedly at them.

“Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you just turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough.”

...

[farrawayfromthere]

Let’s Not Let A Year Pass By This Time

Pairing: Jordan Todd/Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 2k

Summary: After the family annihilator case that had been the last straw for Jordan at the BAU, they don’t see each other for a year.

A/N: for Day 4 of CM Fanfiction Week (Underrated character/pairing); tagging @simmonsmilf and @starry-eyed-spence (gif credit to @j3mily)

Jordan’s in line at a coffee shop in DC, eyeing a chocolate chip muffin in the display case with her name on it.

She fidgets with the zipper on her wallet then wonders with a small sigh if she’d be better off ordering an egg sandwich for the protein.

Today, her team’ll be flying up to a small city in New Hampshire who’s two post offices have both received bomb threats in the last couple days. She knows she’ll be interviewing postal workers all day; she’s gonna need the energy.

“Jordan? Agent Todd? Is that you?”

It’s a voice she hasn’t heard in what feels like a lifetime.

Jordan looks over her shoulder and finds herself face to face with a woman she hasn’t seen in over a year, just a couple customers behind her.

Emily’s face splits into that same huge, brilliant smile Jordan remembers.

“It is you! My god!”

She looks.... really good.

“Agent Prentiss,” Jordan says, eyes growing wide, mouth dropping open slightly.

Emily’s grown her bangs out, pushed them to the sides.

Her dark, dark brown hair falls smoothly, elegantly just past her shoulders.

She’s wearing a black pantsuit, well-tailored. A black, silky looking blouse underneath and black, thick heeled boots that make her feel even taller than Jordan remembers.

She looks, really, really good.

The guy behind her clears his throat and Jordan realizes the line has moved along.

She gestures for him and the lady behind him to go ahead, and reaches for Emily’s sleeve.

“It’s great to see you,” Emily says.

Jordan’s laugh is a disbelieving exhale.

The other woman extends a hand to shake and Jordan feels a strange, subtle swoop in her stomach when their palms press against one another’s.

Emily’s is still cool; Jordan’s, still warm.

Jordan wonders if Emily’s one of those people who always feels cold, just like she’s one of those people who always feels warm.

Suddenly, all the turtlenecks and sweaters she’d seen her wear around the BAU make a little more sense.

Emily’s hand squeezes hers back, and Jordan blinks up at her.

Emily’s eyes are bright, and even through their automatic, habitual coolness, suddenly, a little shy.

“Um, hi,” Jordan says, the words a little breathless.

“Long time no see,” Emily says.

“You’re telling me.”

Emily blinks and gives her a rueful little half-grin.

“I never called.”

“Well, I didn’t either,” Jordan says, keeping humor in her voice, “I meant to, in that first month, but—.”

“We just got so busy after you left. I didn’t realize how much time was passing, I’m so sorry,” Emily says.

They’d told each other they would stay in touch, but the days and weeks and months had just—slipped by.

By the time Jordan realized that an unacceptable amount of time had passed and she’d yet to make good on her promise to grab lunch or dinner with the older agent, the mere idea of picking up the phone and dialing her number made Jordan feel antsy with unease.

It would’ve been too weird; too awkward.

“It’s okay,” Jordan says, “Neither did I.”

Emily blows air out of her cheeks, expression full of relief.

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, Prentiss. We’re good.”

She allows herself to take in Emily’s new hair for a moment.

She gestures lazily at it with her index finger.

“I gotta say. I like the no bangs look on you. Very elegant. Very mysterious FBI woman.”

Twin patches of pink appear high in her cheeks.

“Thanks.”

Jordan smiles.

“You still look like you could kill a man with one stomp of those boots though.”

A grin breaks through Emily’s blush.

“Oh, so they’re giving off the energy I’d hoped they would when I bought them?”

“If the energy you had in mind was ‘don’t mess with me’, then yeah, I’d say so.”

“Next,” the young man at the cashier calls.

Jordan winks at Emily, then steps forward to order her sandwich and coffee. She’s surprised when she finishes and the cashier looks over her shoulder to speak to Emily.

Quickly and efficiently, the taller woman orders herself a medium coffee and an old-fashioned donut from the display case. She pays for both of their orders without a moment’s hesitation, before Jordan can even open her mouth to protest.

“Thanks,” Emily tells the cashier, while Jordan, stomach swirling with a deep warmth that’s startling in its suddenness, places a couple bills in the tip jar.

They sit at a small table for two by the window.

When Jordan looks up from skim milk and raw sugar into her coffee, Emily’s eyes are already cautiously on her.

“So how have you been,” the taller woman asks.

“Uh, good,” Jordan says, then after a moment, ”I’m where I belong.”

“I’m glad,” Emily says, grinning as she mixed cream and a Splenda into her own coffee, “You didn’t seem to like working at the BAU very much.”

“I didn’t,” Jordan says honestly, “But some parts of the experience were better than others. Plus, JJ and I have been friends since our time at the Academy so....”

Emily pushes her hair behind her shoulders, revealing small silver disk shaped earrings that glimmer as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Jordan hesitates just a moment before saying it.

“I’ve gotta say: You look good, Emily.”

Emily’s eyes twinkle; a pleased smile spreads across her face, so genuine that Jordan realizes, for the first time, that Emily Prentiss has a perfect pair of tiny dimples.

Her eyes take in Jordan’s pristine navy blazer, her well styled ponytail. They linger briefly on her mouth, today a deep plum.

“Well, you look better.”

Jordan almost spits out her first sip of coffee; She’s acutely aware that her cheeks have just gone very hot.

Emily‘s smile is a bit too smug for Jordan’s liking. She rolls her eyes.

“I know I do.”

“Oh, really,” Emily exclaims with a grin.

Jordan looks down at her egg sandwich for a moment, appetite suddenly non-existent.

The fluttering in her stomach, the smell of Emily’s perfume is making it hard to think.

She smiles a small, tentative smile.

“How’s life?”

Emily takes a sip from her coffee.

“You know. Chasing down serial killers most days of the week, coming home, watching re-runs of The Sopranos, passing out. Rinse... and repeat.”

Jordan tilts her head.

“No special someone or someones’ to keep things interesting?”

Emily meets her eyes.

“Well I don’t know about special.... Distractions? Sure... but... uh... nobody I care very much about, and definitely nobody who cares very much about me. What about you?”

Jordan snorts.

“I don’t know about special,” she says, repeating Emily’s earlier words before half-smiling and shaking her head, “No. Nobody.”

“That’s good.”

Jordan raises a brow.

Emily winces at herself.

“I mean.... hey, that’s... it’s tough out here?”

Jordan laughs, the sound loud and genuine.

Emily hums, taking a sip of her coffee.

“How’s JJ,” Jordan asks, “The rest of the team?”

Emily sets her coffee down and smiles a soft smile.

“Good. She’s good. We all are,” Emily says, then after a pause, “She loves Will and Henry very much. I think they’re what keep her going now... but... I also think they make everything much harder than it used to be for her. She sees them in every case, and it scares her so much, even though she’ll never admit it.”

Jordan nods, understanding.

“I bet it helps though,” she muses, “To have someone to come home to. People to hold you at the end of those long-ass days you all have over at the BAU.”

Emily’s smile grows more faint.

“I wouldn’t know,” she says quietly.

“Well,” Jordan says, just as quiet, “Neither would I. But that’s what I imagine.”

“Yeah, well... it didn’t work out very well for Hotch,” Emily says.

Jordan fixes her gaze on her coffee.

She’d been overseas during Haley Hotchner’s funeral; she’d wondered how her murder had affected the team at the BAU, how it had affected Emily.

They all already had trust issues... she wondered just how much more they all feared intimacy now....

Emily seems to return to her senses, eyes darting up to meet Jordan’s and startling a little when she recognizes the compassion Jordan can’t help but feel for her.

Emily had been the best part of her time at the BAU.

And okay, maybe Jordan had developed a little, truly tiny, irrelevant crush on her in that time, and maybe.... maybe it had been a little devastating that they’d never gotten in touch again after she’d left the BAU—

Regardless, Jordan wants the woman sitting across from her to be happy.

She smiles faintly at her, then her eyes catch sight of the clock hanging over the cafe’s entrance and she starts.

“Shit,” she says, standing up, “I’m gonna be late.”

Emily looks up at her, for a second panicked, then she’s scrambling in her bag for something.

“Uh—please wait.”

She pulls out a pen and takes the cafe receipt Jordan’s crumbled up and forgotten on the table.

“We’ve gotta catch up properly, Agent Todd,” she says, scribbling her number on the back of it, “New number.”

Jordan tugs her phone from her purse.

“Just read it out to me, I’ll add you in right now,” she says.

Emily does.

Jordan smiles at it, then hesitates.

“Can I snap a quick photo of you for your contact? I‘m actively working with four women named Emily on three different continents.”

Emily’s eyes flash with a hint of something Jordan can’t decipher, then she nods.

“Sure—uh—how do I look? You’re gonna have to deal with this picture of me forever.”

“You know you look good,” Jordan says, holding up the phone, “But I’ll allow you one retake if you don’t like it.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Emily straightens her back. She gives a small, close mouthed smile for the picture, dark eyes looking deeply into the camera.

“One... two... okay, got it.”

Jordan shows the picture to her and Emily grimaces.

“Ugh.”

Jordan scoffs.

“Oh, come on. You look like an English rose or whatever. It’s a good picture.”

“An English rose,” Emily repeats, laughing.

Jordan glances down at her still open camera and, lips quirking, snaps another photo.

This time, she catches Emily, eyebrows drawn up in amusement, grinning. She’s looking warmly out at Jordan over the lens of the camera rather than looking into it head on.

“Oh, I’m keeping this one.”

“What? Hey. Wait, let me see.”

Jordan shows her and Emily groans.

“No.... no, no, no.”

“Too bad it’s your one retake, huh?”

“But I didn’t even know you were taking it!”

“My phone, my rules,” Jordan says, putting her phone away and looking down at her with a grin, “I guess I’ll talk to ya later.”

Emily’s still grumbling under her breath.

Jordan lets a hand fall on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before making for the doors.

“Hey Jordan,” she hears behind her.

And Jordan remembers in that moment that she likes the sound of her first name in Emily’s mouth.

She looks over her shoulder.

“Let’s not let a year pass by this time, alright,” Emily calls.

Jordan laughs, “Let’s make it two!”

“Please don’t,” Emily calls back.

“Or three!”

On the train, she tugs out her phone again, smiling a little at Emily’s contact photo.

She dials her number and Emily picks up on the second ring.

“Well this is nice. You gave me your real number,” Jordan says.

Emily snorts.

“I see you have a very high opinion of me.”

Jordan hesitates.

“Well, I’ll be honest... I don’t know you very well. All I know....”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a gentle whoosh.

“All I know was that you were the only thing that made my time at the BAU bearable, Emily. You stood up for me when nobody else did. You cared enough to check up on me when I was having a bad day. Even when I just acted like a jerk in return. And I’ll never forget that.“

She stops to let the honesty of her words hang in the air, then:

“I honestly was a little bummed out that we never hung out outside of work like we said we would.”

Emily seems stunned into silence by Jordan’s honesty.

Jordan doesn’t care.

She’s happy she’s said it.

Happy Emily knows that she brought good into someone’s life, at least for a little while.

“I don’t know what to say,” Emily murmurs.

“You’re one of those people who can’t handle intense sincerity, huh,” Jordan jokes.

Silence again; she must be walking.

Jordan can hear the click of her thick heels even over the phone.

“Not on a daily basis, no,” Emily says at last, but there’s a happy edge to her voice, “Confession from me?”

“Go for it.”

“It bummed me out a little too, that we never got together like we’d planned. You were excellent company, Jordan Todd. And I... I guess I didn’t realize until now how much I’ve really missed you.”

Jordan finds herself smiling.

“Sap.”

Emily laughs and Jordan chuckles in response.

For a second there’s silence on the line, then:

“Let’s get lunch this week,” Emily says, “Someplace good.”

Jordan bites the inside of her lower lip, trying to fight her own smile, knowing it’s a fight she’s going to be having with herself all day.

She knows today will be the day she’ll be called out for asking about bomb threat details with a glimmer of a smile on her face.

She doesn’t care.

“How do you feel about sushi?”

“Name the place and I’m there.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part III

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.9

Author’s Note: Here's Part 3!! This was super difficult for me to get out, but I think I'm happy with it. I rewrote it like 3 or 4 times

It's Delicate: Part III

Spencer notices everything. He’s been trained to notice the slightest change in his environment. He supposes that his profiler training has helped him be more comfortable in social situations. But still, Spencer feels like a fish out of water as he pushes the door to the bookstore open. He knows he should feel at home when he’s in a bookstore, but his heart seems to be racing. Spencer tries to quiet his nerves before he can feel himself running away.

Thinking that it might be a good idea to distract himself, Spencer walks over to the bookshelf filled with books from the floor to the ceiling. He runs his fingers along the spine of the books. Some are old and used, and others are well cared for with their enabled and embossed writing on the spines. He recognizes some titles, but others aren’t too familiar. There’s a whole world of books out there that Spencer has yet to explore. There’s a couple other patrons in the store, an older woman who sits on the soft rocking chair in the back corner and a young woman who already has a pile of books tucked under her arms.

Looking around, Spencer walks towards the back of the store where a glowing sign directs him to the restroom. He goes into the Men’s Room and locks the door behind him. Spencer looks at his reflection in the mirror. He wouldn’t consider himself a vain man, nor would he consider himself aloof about his appearance. He’s very much aware of the deep lines that collect around his eyes and the dark bags underneath. Spencer runs his fingers through his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. He likes the way his longer hair looks. It took so long after getting released from prison to get his curls back. His hair is the one part of his physical appearance that Spencer can say he likes; the rest he’s a little less than indifferent about on a good day.

Spencer shuts the light off in the bathroom and heads back to the front of the store. He approaches the store clerk, who sits behind the counter. She’s talking with the young woman who had the pile of books tucked under her arms. Spencer looks around the store, trying to find a sign for where the book club meets. He realizes that he doesn’t even know what Y/N looks like. He decides to take out his phone to text Y/N that he’s here. Spencer walks to the short stories section of the store and looks for the “P”s. Once he finds the book he’s looking for he takes a photo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: How have I not discovered this place sooner??

He doesn’t expect for Y/N to text him back right away, so he tucks his phone back into his pocket. Spencer walks to the front of the store. The display highlights the books of the month with different authors, genres, and themes. It’s a quaint little store and Spencer wonders why he put off visiting so long. The young woman finishes with the clerk and brushes past Spencer, her face buried in her phone. Spencer walks towards the shelves of True Crime books. He sees Rossi’s latest release about the Golden State Killer. Before Spencer can pick up the book, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Ooooh a man after my own heart :) I’m guessing you’re here too

Spencer: Yes...I just realized I don’t know what you look like?

Y/N: Well, I guess that means you have to find me

Spencer looks around at the patrons in the store. The older woman and the younger woman seem like the only logical candidates. The young woman doesn’t look up when Spencer brushes past, her attention is intently focused on the book across her lap, while the older woman swipes on her e-reader.

Spencer: You know I could just call you and your phone would ring

Y/N: That’s like cheating

Y/N: Turn around

Spencer turns around and is greeted by the young woman who brushed past him before. She smiles up at him and Spencer can’t help but grin back at her. He didn’t really give much thought to what Y/N looks like, and he can only hope that she didn’t think too much about him in that way. Spencer has to stop himself from that spiral, and remind himself that it’s not a date.

“You’re Y/N?” Spencer asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too nervous.

“Yes, and I really hope you’re Spencer,” she says, “you’re nothing like I pictured,”

Spencer’s face must have shown his shock because Y/N’s hand comes up to gently touch his upper arm in an attempt to quell his worry.

“No, nothing bad, Spencer. You just text like a grandpa so I figured you were a lonely old man. I’m just surprised that you’re pretty...young is all,” Y/N finishes her voice climbing up a couple of scales making her nerves evident.

Spencer nods in agreement, used to people thinking he’s older than he actually is his entire life. He supposes that’s because of his intelligence coupled with his social ineptitude.

“Well, judging by your texting, I predicted that you would be around my age, or younger,” Spencer says he’s always had difficulties keeping conversations going, yet right now his mind is swimming of different things he can tell Y/N.

“So you ready for your first Book Buddy meeting?” Y/N asks. The corners of her mouth turn upwards in a playful smile. Spencer likes her smile and grows disappointed that the only time he’ll be able to see it is when they meet together. As much as he is technology adverse, he wouldn’t mind being able to see her smile through her emojis and snarky messages.

“I’m still not too sure what we’re supposed to do, but at least I’ve got you to show me,”

“Come on Book Buddy virgin,” Y/N says winking at Spencer as she walks past him to the staircase that leads to the store’s basement.

Spencer tries to ignore her comment, but even with his brain power he can’t stop his ears from turning pink. He’s always blushing around people who listen to him, especially when those people are so enthralling to watch.

In the basement, there’s shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. A couple of couches and sofas are tucked in the corner with a table and lamp. The soft light is warm and inviting. Spencer’s eyes can’t help but to scan the various titles in the collection. Y/N flops down on the couch and taps the seat, signalling for Spencer to sit next to her.

Sitting down next to her, Spencer wonders how much space he should put between them. He doesn’t want to sit so close and have her think he’s only here to make a pass at her. Nor does he want to sit so far away, because the scent of her peppermint and eucalyptus perfume threatens to mesmerize him.

Y/N brushes her hair from her face with her right hand, that’s adorned with a ring and a couple gold bracelets. She looks over at Spencer apprehensively and he tries to give her a comforting smile back, but he’s afraid that he just looks awkward. He suddenly is very aware that his breath tastes like stale coffee and his hair is wild, pointing out in several directions.

“So Spencer,” Y/N says, “usually we meet in a big group to do these Book Clubs, but this year the store decided to do this Book Buddy thing. Reading and picking out books for someone can be a very personal thing, so I’d like to get to know you a little bit better if that’s alright?”

Spencer’s eyes steady the woman before him. She looks over at him, her eyes never breaking from his. Psychology shows that holding eye contact is a sign of confidence, for a litany of reasons, Spencer has always had difficulties maintaining eye contact. He sighs loudly. It’s almost a mix between exasperation and confusion. Even though Spencer has spent a good portion of his adult life surrounded by very forward people, he still feels slightly nervous when he comes across those types recreationally. Especially when those types seem to have smiles so contagious that they throw every scientific study on germs out the window.

“You want to know about me?” Spencer repeats. He can feel his ears flush, and is thoroughly reminded that he hardly knows who he is.

“Yes, I want to know all your salacious stories Spencer,” Y/N says with a sly smile.

Spencer chokes out a strained laugh before he tries to think of an answer. He can’t remember the last time someone wanted to get to know him. Or maybe he does, and just wants to pretend that those memories died with her. But he can’t, because they are painful and real.

“I’m an FBI Agent, uh the Behavioral Analysis Unit specifically. We track down serial killers and other time sensitive cases,” Spencer says, used to giving the speech about his job on the rare occasion he does talk to another lonely soul at a random bar in a city.

He looks over at Y/N, ready for the reaction he usually gets. Sometimes it’s pity, other times it’s awe. But it all tastes the same with a shot of whiskey.

“That must be an incredibly exhausting job, Spencer. It takes a special kind of person to do that,”

That’s strange, Spencer thinks. Her words aren’t full of pity or awe, but almost understanding. It’s strange, but Spencer likes strange things, after all.

“It is,” Spencer says. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with useless words that he knows are stale and meaningless. Somehow the silence doesn’t feel awkward.

“How long have you been in the FBI?” Y/N asks. She’s curious, but cautious to proceed and Spencer appreciates that.

“Since I was 22. I’m 34. I’ll be 35 soon,” Spencer says, still not fully believing that he’s spent nearly 13 years at the BAU.

“22, that’s a baby. I didn’t think that the FBI would recruit that young,”

Spencer grimaces, realizing that sooner or later this conversation would arise. He figured it would have come up when he got through the books in an hour or two. Spencer hates having to tell people about his intelligence. He never wants to make someone feel inferior about themselves because of his brain chemistry and genetic lottery.

“I’m kinda smart. Technically I’m a genius but I really hate that term. The idea behind intelligence testing has a very sexist and racist background. Besides, I don’t think true intelligence is accurately quantifiable,” Spencer tells her, repeating his speech usually reserved for arrogant detectives.

“That sounds like something a genius would say. You’re a humble genius. That’s a rare breed, Spencer” Y/N says, that contagious smile turning up the corners of her mouth and threatening to take over Spencer’s.

“I think that’s a compliment,” Spencer says “what about you? Tell me about yourself?” Spencer says, trying to remember the points of the conversation books he used to read as a kid in hopes of making a friend.

“Let’s see, you already know the boys. I don’t have any siblings and my mom lives in Florida, so we don’t see each other too often. I’m a Funeral Director in Alexandria, took it over after my dad passed a couple years,” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer responds. Y/N smiles again, clearly a little tense to be talking about a sensitive topic.

“So Second Cat, I take it you’re a Poe fan,” Spencer says, holding to help ease into a more pleasant conversation.

“I like his short stories the best, but Emily Dickinson poetry will always have my heart. There’s something so ordinarily beautiful about the way she writes. She was so brilliant. And her and Susan, that’s a tragic love story,” Y/N finishes. She plays with the hem of her jacket absentmindedly almost like she wants to say something more.

“I first read “The Tell Tale Heart” when I was around 5,” Spencer starts, he rests his elbows on his knees to tell a story and he can’t help but feel a little excited when Y/N leans in a little closer to listen in, “I checked it out from the library and brought it home to read. Now it just so happened that I got a chemistry set. I will not incriminate myself but I may or may not have used the set as the directions intended,” Spencer says, holding up his hands in innocence.

Y/N scams him with a calculated stare, it’s not mean or judgmental, but cautious and careful. It’s like she’s deciding if she can trust him or not. He supposes she does when she winks back and says, “I’m sure that’s true Agent Reid,”

“It’s actually Dr Reid, but I’ll get there another day,” Spencer says quickly, eager to get back to his story, “so the chemistry set had some chemicals, the kind that won’t hurt kids. But I stole some sodium chlorate from the local gardening store and a pack of gummy worms from the Mini-Mart. Then I got back home and took out the chemistry set. I drop some of the sodium chlorate and gummy bears into the test tube and it starts to glow!” Spencer says, his voice gets excited when he remembers the experiment. There’s very few happy moments of his childhood, and this is one.

Y/N, listening to him eagerly, wears an excited expression as Spencer continues with the story. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone so interested in what you have to say.

“How does Poe fit in?” Y/N asks. Spencer’s fingers make a “1” as if to tell her to be patient.

“So I do the experiment and there’s pieces of molten gummy worms in my hair and on my clothes, but then I hear my mother walking up the stairs so I panic,” Spencer says, he’s an animated storyteller and Y/N is a captivated audience. He tries to not pay close attention to how her eyes hardly leave his or how they seem to be looking at him with wonder. But it’s hard to ignore that when you’ve never been looked at like that before.

“I scramble into my bed and shove the experiment under the bed, and it’s still smelling like burnt chemicals and gummy worms, mind you. And I pretend to read, but I’m reading The Tell Tale Heart, which you know is about a man who’s trying to cover up a terrible deed but literally shoving it under the floor. You know I think my 5 year old mind exploded that day,” Spencer says, he leans back so his head rests against the wall.

“It must have made quite an impression on you at what 5? How on Earth did you read Edgar Allen Poe at 5 years old? I didn’t read that until like Freshman year of high school,”

“I told you I was kind of smart,” Spencer replies, hoping that it would suffice.

“Yeah, but like a child prodigy that must have been very lonely,” Y/N says in a voice that tells Spencer she knows a thing or two about being intensely lonely.

“No one ever says that,” Spencer says in a hushed tone, “no one ever gets that it’s a lonely thing being a genius,” he finishes, putting air quotes around genius to show his discomfort with the term.

Y/N nods, “I’m not a genius by any means, Spencer, but I was an only kid. Part of me thinks it’s my fate to lonely,”

“I’m an only kid too,” Spencer says, “when I asked my mom why they didn’t have anymore kids she just told me why mess with perfection. I know it was meant to make me feel better, but part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a built in friend,”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, I tend to do that, but do you want kids?” Y/N asks, she twists a ring that’s wrapped around her finger over and over like it’s a bad habit. She looks at him, expecting an answer, from the corner of her eye.

“I did,” Spencer says in a quiet voice, terrified that he’ll reveal too much to this enticing woman with eyes that never seem to want to look anywhere, but his.

“So did I,” Y/N tells him. Her voice mirrors his in it’s guarded, yet scared to reveal too much tone. Spencer is too busy hiding his own worry to recognize Y/N’s.

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts, determined to end the stale silence that settled between them, “of what book I thought you’d like. It’s actually a personal copy of mine. I had know clue how these things work, but I thought we could write notes in the margins. You know our thoughts and ideas about the book,”

Y/N gazes over at Spencer intently, as if she’s trying to think of how she’ll respond. Spencer notices the way Y/N pauses to think before she speaks, he tries to subdue the profiler training that ebbs to the surface, but he can’t control what his instincts tell him. He knows that Y/N is holding something back, but then again, so is he and who is he to judge.

“You’re okay with writing in a book?” Y/N asks, “I know that could be touchy for some,”

“Most of my books have little writings in the margins. I always thought that a book is a love letter from the author to the reader. You get to see inside their mind and to me that’s incredibly personal,” Spencer says, rubbing his palms that grew sweaty on his pants. It’s useless, because they just slide off.

“Well, you’ve convinced me, I brought a book too, but it doesn’t have notes,” Y/N says, “but if this works out, I’ll do it next time?” Y/N asks him, the hope in her voice apparent.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Y/N,” Spencer says, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingertips against Y/N’s. Her hand keeps on creeping closer to Spencer’s, he thinks that she’s trying to send him a signal, but Spencer feels too wounded, too raw to take that first big leap.

“So,” Spencer starts, he decides to clasp his hands together to avoid this new predicament, “what book did you decide on?”

“Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, it’s one of the few books that is perfect,” Y/N says, putting emphasis on the “perfect,”. Spencer thinks that he can grow to be eager to wait each week for the hour or so he’s able to watch Y/N speak with such passion and love.

“I’ve heard about, but I generally read technically books and other that it’s mainly just books that aren’t in English,” Spencer tells her, he rummages through his bag, looking for his book for Y/N.

“Close your eyes please,” Spencer says, he hides the book behind his back, he smiles as Y/N’s absurdly contagious smile grows.

“Come on Spencer, I don’t like being teased,” Y/N whines, faux pout and all.

Spencer grabs her hand and guides it to the cover of the book, The Goldfinch. He lets go of her hand; his practically stinging from the way her fingertips pressed up against the back of his hand, even though it was only for a couple of seconds.

“The Goldfinch” Y/N says, “ooh how on Earth did you know I love Donna Tartt?”

“Lucky guess, I suppose,” Spencer says, a surge of confidence bolstering him enough to wink at Y/N.

Spencer watches as Y/N flips through the pages of her book. Spencer read it a couple of weeks ago and loved the way the author intertwined the mystery to create a riveting story. Spencer checks his watch, realizing that nearly two hours have passed since he and Y/N sat on the couch.

Just as Y/N goes to say something, Spencer’s phone rings, ripping him from his modest paradise. He gives Y/N an apologetic look and mouths “work” as he steps away from Y/N.

“Reid,” he says, he forgot to check the caller ID, a little too excited to finish this call and get back to Y/N.

“Is that seriously how you greet your favorite person in the world?” the voice, presumably Garcia asks.

“Garcia,” Spencer says, unable to hold back his slight annoyance.

“I know it’s time off, but I guess like male serial killers don’t respect women, they don’t respect our time off either,” Garcia quips.

“I’ll be there in 20, I’m out and I’ll need to get my go bag,” Spencer tells her, preparing for the inevitable.

“I know exactly where you are, Spencer. A little birdie told me you’d called him in panic. I really hope your lady friend appreciated your lavender shirt,” Garcia says. Spencer can hear the click of keys as she talks.

He rolls his eyes, but knew that this was to be expected, “Later, Garcia,” he says, hanging up the phone call. Spencer walks back over to Y/N, whose face is buried in the book. She twirls a pen in her right hand, like she’s thinking about what she’ll write in the margins.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I have to cut this short, work emergency,” he explains to an Y/N understanding Y/N, who nods her head.

“Don’t worry, text me that you got home safe, please,” Y/N tells him, looking up at him with genuine worry in her eyes.

“I promise, Y/N. I’ll see you soon,” Spencer says, grabbing his book and making his way up the stairs. He reaches the top flight when his phone buzzes.

Y/N: I mean it :)

Y/N: It was nice meeting you officially….

Spencer reads over the messages as he walks, replaying the interaction in his head. It’s strange to have someone care if you make it home say. The only people on Earth, besides Spencer’s mother, that care if Spencer makes it home are the people that risk their lives with him as well.

Spencer shoots a quick message back.

Spencer: I promise and I hope you like the book, it’s very special to me.

Y/N: I’m sure I’ll love it! Now go save the world :) :)

Spencer smiles to himself as he reads the message, amazed that her contagious smile can make its way through the string of code from his smartphone. As he drives off, Spencer thinks about the way Y/N actually listens to him or the way her hair sees fall perfectly into place. He thinks about her laugh and the way she almost makes him feel safe in the short time he’s known her.

But all those good thoughts amount to nothing, when the biggest thought on Spencer’s mind revolves around the shiny ring that sits on her left hand on the finger between her pinky and pointer finger.

A wedding ring.

-TAGLIST- (Comment to be added or if I forgot to add you)

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Thank You For Reading

[myelocin]

iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer.

synopsis: maybe sometimes getting locked out of your own apartment at two in the morning and being too kind to slam on the door and wake up your neighbors might have advantages of its own. the advantage being? iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer. 

characters: iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer, you

genre: fluff n a little banter also iwaizumi is hot tq very much

wc: 1200+

a/n: this serves as req #21 for stories in passing, for 💛 anon

-

Today was not your day, you decide.

It’s 2:18 AM, and you’re standing outside your apartment door where you and your roommate just moved into and you find out that she accidentally bolted the lock from the inside, effectively locking you out of your own place.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” you could practically hear her voice chide you already, but at the same time, you’re ready to show her the thirty unanswered calls all from your phone to hers registered in your call log.

You know she’d probably just smile at you all sheepish, like she does when she forgets to pick up the one thing you ask for her to when it was her turn to get the groceries and that would be enough for you to forgive her just like that.

“Because you looove me,” you hear her voice chime out to you once again, and you groan, running your face over your hands as you will yourself to not kick and pound at the door to force her awake.

You sigh; as much as you love her and the thought of sinking into bed after a long night out, you also love the reputation you have with your neighbors and pounding at the door when it’s two in the morning would just about to the trick and erase that.

So you retort to sitting on the floor with your back pressed against the door and a migraine threatening to brew in your temples.

Except, of course, the universe wouldn’t let you catch a break because as soon as you slide down and face up, you’re face to face with the tenant living across you with his keys in one hand and a look of confusion etched on his face.

You suppose you should explain yourself when he opens his mouth, but he beats you to it.

“Let me guess,” he starts. “Either you locked yourself out, or your roommate locked you out from inside and now won’t answer your call because they sleep like the dead?”

“The second one, bingo,” you comment dryly, raising your phone and showing him your call log.

“Damn,” he laughs. “Good job on not waking up the neighbors though.”

“I’m a considerate woman,” you shrug, leaning against the wall.

“I guess I should be a considerate man then and at least let you wait in my apartment?” he offers, unlocking his door and holding it open for you.

“Inviting a stranger into your house? Is that a good idea?” you laugh.

Your neighbor looks at you, smirking. “I’ve noticed you since you moved in and haven’t even introduced myself despite living literally right across you. This is the least I could do.”

“I don’t know,” you say, balancing yourself on the door frame as you stand up. “Sounds like something a serial killer would say before they do the do.”

“Do the do?” he snorts, chuckling at your choice of words. He pushes the door open and stands to the side as he motions for you to enter first.

“Yeah, like, when they go in for the kill or something,” you snort.

“But here you are anyway, inside a stranger’s apartment anyway at two in the morning because you got locked out,” he laughs, crossing his arms over his chest as he faces you.

“Kidding,” he laughs. “Take a seat and make yourself feel at home.”

“Will do, serial killer,” you bite back with a laugh, taking a seat on the couch to your left.

Glancing around the space, you look around the room, automatically noticing the stack of comic books haphazardly tethering on the edge of the shelf next to a few DVDs of the different Godzilla movies. A few framed photographs lined the wall—mostly of the same group of people just in different poses and locations.

Looks like he had himself a group of lasting friends.

“Beer?” he asks, gesturing to the cans he placed on the center table as he takes a seat on the armchair to your right.

You tell him a quiet thanks as you grab one of the cans, pulling the tab open, and clinking it against his as you watch him take a sip and lean back on the chair.

“So do you usually invite strangers to have beer with you at your apartment at two in the morning?” you question, mirth in your tone.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, 27, athletic trainer,” he announces, facing you.

He laughs when stare back at him, mouth hanging open, undoubtedly a question at the tip of your tongue.

“Now you know my name. We’re not strangers anymore, so now, you’re just sharing beer with someone you know at 2 in the morning. Makes it a little less weird if you look at it that way.”

“Does it?” you laugh, tipping back the can and taking a hefty gulp.

“You could always just wait back outside indefinitely,” Iwaizumi jokes.

You laugh, leaning back against the seat, as you return his stare with a pout. “Kidding! I’m (y/n), nice to officially meet you after a few weeks of moving in.”

“Cheers to that,” he laughs, raising his can as you laugh and clink yours with his as you meet halfway.

-

From the three hours that your friend decides to peacefully sleep through, it’s sometime a little over five am where the two of you jolt to some frantic knocking at your newfound friend’s door.

“Nice of you to remember that you have a roommate,” you comment, holding open the door and standing to the side as Iwaizumi leans against the frame and laughs at her apology.

“It’s alright, (y/n)’s not that bad of a company,” he laughs, winking at you.

“You’re making it sound like I’m barely just passing your standards,” you groan as you step out into the hallway and push your friend towards the entrance to your own apartment.

“Thanks for the company, and uhh, beer,” you smile. “I did not expect for her to sleep through three more hours.”

“Don’t sweat it, you have my number now don’t you? Don’t hesitate to ring me up if she ends up locking you out again.”

Iwaizumi across you laughs and crosses his arms over his chest, a habit of his you took note of. You didn’t mind though, he looked good. Anyone with eyes could easily come to that conclusion. Tan skin, green eyes, strong build, spikey hair, and a witty mouth to boot.

Safe to say, your neighbor seemed to be just your type.

“Again?” you tease. “It’s like you’re hoping that I’m gonna get locked out again just so you could keep me company.”

“Conversation with you isn’t bad, I guess,” he laughs before waving at you when you laugh and motion to shut your door.

It should have been the other way around, you think. Conversation with him, wasn’t bad. He was witty with his mouth, but was polite where it counted. Knew his boundaries too.

Three hours passed by rather quickly through a plethora of jokes, interesting topics, and talks about nothing. You smiled.

“I know that smile, (y/n),” your friend comments, yawning as she makes her way back to her room. “I’ll be sure to lock you out again if you need me to!” she finishes with a laugh.

You roll your eyes at her words, then think back to your neighbor.

To Iwaizumi Hajime who was 27 and was also an athletic trainer.

You decided that maybe, something about today was going your way for once.

 -