#at least i never feel worried for Emily

[abigailspinach]

“What worries me about writing novels,” confided Emily, “is the love talk in them. I’m sure I’ll never be able to write it. I’ve tried,” she concluded candidly, “and I can’t think of anything to say.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll teach you some day,” said Dean.

“Will you—will you really?” Emily was very eager. “I’ll be so obliged if you will. I think I could manage everything else very nicely.”

“It’s a bargain then—don’t forget it. And don’t go looking for another teacher, mind. What do you find to do at the Grange besides writing poetry? Are you never lonesome with only those two old survivals?”

“No. I enjoy my own company,” said Emily gravely.

“You would. Stars are said to dwell apart, anyhow, sufficient unto themselves—ensphered in their own light. Do you really like Aunt Nancy?”

“Yes, indeed. She is very kind to me. She doesn’t make me wear sunbonnets and she lets me go barefooted in the forenoons. But I have to wear my buttoned boots in the afternoons, and I hate buttoned boots.”

“Naturally. You should be shod with sandals of moonshine and wear a scarf of sea-mist with a few fireflies caught in it over your hair. Star, you don’t look like your father, but you suggest him in several ways. Do you look like your mother? I never saw her.”

All at once Emily smiled demurely. A real sense of humour was born in her at that moment. Never again was she to feel quite so unmixedly tragic over anything.

“No,” she said, “it’s only my eyelashes and smile that are like Mother’s. But I’ve got Father’s forehead, and Grandma Starr’s hair and eyes, and Great-Uncle George’s nose, and Aunt Nancy’s hands, and Cousin Susan’s elbows, and Great-great-Grandmother Murray’s ankles, and Grandfather Murray’s eyebrows.”

Dean Priest laughed.

“A rag-bag—as we all are,” he said. “But your soul is your own, and fire-new, I’ll swear to that.”

“Oh, I’m so glad I like you,” said Emily impulsively. “It would be hateful to think any one I didn’t like had saved my life. I don’t mind your saving it a bit.”

“That’s good. Because you see your life belongs to me henceforth. Since I saved it it’s mine. Never forget that.”

Emily felt an odd sensation of rebellion. She didn’t fancy the idea of her life belonging to anybody but herself—not even to anybody she liked as much as she liked Dean Priest. Dean, watching her, saw it and smiled his whimsical smile that always seemed to have so much more in it than mere smiling.

“That doesn’t quite suit you? Ah, you see one pays a penalty when one reaches out for something beyond the ordinary. One pays for it in bondage of some kind or other. Take your wonderful aster home and keep it as long as you can. It has cost you your freedom.”

He was laughing—he was only joking, of course—yet Emily felt as if a cobweb fetter had been flung round her. Yielding to a sudden impulse she flung the big aster on the ground and set her foot on it.

Dean Priest looked on amusedly. His strange eyes were very kindly as he met hers.

“You rare thing—you vivid thing—you starry thing! We are going to be good friends—we are good friends.282 I’m coming up to Wyther Grange to-morrow to see those descriptions you’ve written of Caroline and my venerable Aunt in your Jimmy-book. I feel sure they’re delicious. Here’s your path—don’t go roaming again so far from civilization. Good-night, my Star of the Morning.”

[emily-mooon]

Finally found a way to watch the Love Me, Love Me not movie and I was worried I wasn’t gonna get the iconic Kazu and Akari moment but it looks like I am and I’m so fucking ecstatic rn

[emilys-bangs]

The last thing you reblogged gave me an idea !

Touch starved Emily who is friends with you but would never dare ask you for unnecessary hugs etc., you two are close but she doesn’t want to cross that bridge since she definitely likes you a lot more than just a friend and also she’s scared of being so open and vulnerable that she admits she needs a hug and a cuddle.

You two are on a case once again, end up rooming together and there’s only one bed. You both don't really mind and go to sleep, each one on their respective side of the bed - except when you wake up in the middle of the night, Emily is cuddled around you, having subconsciously seeked your touch while she’s asleep.

You can decide how to go from there if this idea is any good to you, no worries if not and I hope you have a great week 😘😘

Tysm for requesting, I hope you have a great week as well! I sincerely thank that one post about touch starved Emily that made us all go insane <3

----

midas touch | e.p

Tags: touch starved Emily, room sharing, bed sharing, fluff, a ridiculous amount of yearning

Word count: 2.5k

You’d have to be blind not to notice Emily’s affinity for touch.

It’s something you’ve picked up on after a mere week in the BAU, and honestly, you’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like she craves touch, physically needs the added comfort of hands wrapping around elbows, arms slung across shoulders and casual side-hugs. In the more lax confines of Rossi’s living room or o’keefe’s, it’s not unusual to see her wrapped around somebody, or at least closely sharing what’s meant to be personal space. 

At work, however, it’s different; a bit more subtle, but still palpably flowing with love—the way she sneaks behind Garcia’s chair and wraps her arms around her neck in hello, Emily’s cheek pressing against the analyst’s. How she runs her fingers through Spencer’s messy curls, and how—despite his protests—he lets her, almost imperceptibly leaning into her hand before she pulls away. Her hip is frequently attached to JJ’s, their temples touching as she slides her palm into the back pocket of JJ’s jeans. Rossi is given paternal kisses on the cheek, Morgan dragged around with his hand in hers, their fingers interlocking in a weave of pale and dark. Even Hotch gets his fair share of physical affection from her, though more subtle but no less loving; a tugging at his belt loops, a nimble fixing of his tie, the brush of her fingers along his elbow.

Everyone gets a piece of Emily’s attention. 

Everyone except you.

It upsets you in ways you can’t fully explain—at least not without admitting to yourself that you’re falling deeply and helplessly in love with her. None of it remotely makes sense; despite her very deliberately withholding her touch from you, she’s been nothing but lovely, always having your back and gently correcting you when you slip up. 

But still, when an overbooked hotel forces Hotch to relay the unfortunate news of doubling up and she turns to you, surprise renders you silent. 

“Me and you?” Emily asks, paying no mind to JJ next to her.

You speak through your dry throat, “Um—yeah, sure.”

Hotch places the key in your hand, glad to have one pair down. You dig it into the flesh of your palm.

“I’ll take that one, thank you.” Rossi plucks a key from Hotch’s hand and turns away, leisurely walking to the elevator as protests rise behind him.

Hotch shakes his head, exasperated. You almost feel sorry for him. “Morgan?” He says, looking at him. Morgan nods, which leaves JJ with Reid.

Reid looks pleased; JJ less so, but she doesn’t protest as she takes the key from Hotch.

“Aww, good luck, pretty girl.” Emily coos, cupping JJ’s cheek and tapping it playfully. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, hot and acidic as JJ shrugs off her hand with an eye roll, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The key is in your hand so you turn on your heel, a bad taste in your mouth as Reid starts to protest, the sound getting lost somewhere between Emily’s soft laughs.

She knows them longer than she knows you, you think as you take the stairs two at a time, trying to outrun the beating of your heart. Your somewhat blurry eyes pick out the door with the matching number on your key. Your legs take you to it, almost on autopilot.

“Hey, wait up,” Emily’s voice carries, reaching you in a cloud of spun silk. There’s a rush of air behind you and you feel her creeping over your shoulder, the scent of her perfume choking you sweetly. “You don’t want me to sleep in the hall, do you?”

You can’t bring yourself to rise to the teasing in her voice. Fitting the key in the lock with unsteady fingers, you mumble, “Would’a let you in if you’d knocked.”

But trying to keep your distance doesn’t work, because the one bed in the room glares at you as soon as you push the door open.

Your throat goes dry. 

Emily hovers impatiently at your back and you swallow as you take a step into the threshold of the room, wondering how the hell she’d share a bed with you when she seems reluctant to touch you in the first place.

Panicked, you take your bag and head into the bathroom before Emily can say anything, desperately needing a moment to compose yourself. It’s safe to say you spend more time in there than you usually would, lengthening your short routine to busy yourself.

Only when you’ve semi-calmed down do you go out, finding her perched on the edge of the large—king sized, at least—bed.

“Hey. Are you okay with this?” Emily’s eyes are wide and dark, shining with concern. 

There’s no place for you to sleep anyway if you said no, but somehow you get the feeling she’d make it work if you were uncomfortable. A confused rush of emotion runs hot under your skin; lingering jealousy and ever present bitterness and confusing pleasure at her concern.

God, you need to go to bed.

“I’m fine with it,” you force a smile. It must not be very convincing, because Emily frowns, a delicate pull drawing her brows together. Just before she says something, you speak. “Are you okay with it?”

That snaps her out of it. “Yeah,” Emily murmurs, a dimple winking at you as she gives you a small smile, “as long as you don’t kick.”

You didn’t expect her to agree so easily. Some part of you wonders if she’s lying, but you can’t look at her eyes long enough to decipher that—you’re mildly afraid if you sunk into their depths you’d never be able to claw your way out.

“I haven’t had any complaints,” you try to shrug casually. “Do you prefer a side?”

“No, go ahead. It doesn’t matter what side I sleep on, I always somehow find my way in the middle.”

That makes you crack a smile.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind her and you press your knuckles into your eyes, wondering if you can possibly get through this night without losing your already delicate composure.

It’s just a bed, you tell yourself as you take out a pair of sweatpants to serve as pajamas. And it’s just for one night. It’s fine.

It’s fine. Sure it is.

You’re already in bed and beneath the sheets when Emily walks out of the bathroom. It’s a mistake to look at her, because you think you’ve just fallen deeper in love.

She’s shaking her hair out from the confines of its ponytail and it falls in soft waves around her shoulders, curling at the ends where the water sprayed it. A cotton tank top gently hugs her body, and pale blue shorts skim the tops of her thighs.

She’s not wearing a bra.

You’re staring.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to share tonight,” Emily smiles sheepishly as she lifts the covers and climbs into the bed. A lump is lodged in your throat at the sight of her bare legs slipping through the sheets, shimmering softly from her lotion. It smells sweet, she smells sweet—like warm cocoa butter—and it takes everything in you not to inhale deeply like a creep.

“Neither was I.” You croak. Emily settles her head on her pillow and you try not to stare at her lashes, so naturally long and thick even without her usual mascara.

She’s literally going to be the death of you.

“G’night,” you mumble and turn away before she can answer. The heat in your cheeks burns, and you dig them into the pillow in hopes of cooling them down.

“Night,” Emily whispers back. The sheets rustle as she presumably turns, too.

Needless to say, it takes a while for you to fall asleep. 

It must happen at some point, though, because something wakes you. You open your eyes to the darkness of the room, unsure what it is. You just know that you’re abnormally warm and trapped beneath something smelling like cocoa butter.

Emily.

Your sluggish brain slowly puts the pieces together. Her arm is around your neck, cutting across your chest; her thigh is hitched over your hip. Cold fingertips are hooked into the collar of your t-shirt and you shiver despite the warmth of your own body. Slow breaths puff across your neck, warm and even.

Briefly, you think you’re dreaming, but just as quickly that thought dissipates. She’s too real, too warm—and anyway your imagination could never come up with something as divine as this.

You’re not completely innocent either. Your arm is hooked around her waist, your skin directly touching the warm skin of her waist. Her tank top has risen up and your blurry eyes catch a tattoo on her hipbone; a faded butterfly.

You should let her go. 

It’s an internal battle, because she fits there, perfectly, and even though you know it’s wrong, you close your eyes and continue holding her. 

It’s wrong, it’s so wrong. She doesn’t want your touch. She’s made that perfectly clear, but her warm body, the soft tickle of her hair, they cloud your senses, fog your brain and hide all traces of reason or sensibility.

But still, half asleep or not, you can’t betray her trust like this.

You’re just about to force yourself to let go when Emily snuggles closer, a long sigh escaping through her nose. Her lashes tickle your skin, wispy and light across your neck as she nestles into your collarbone.

Fuck.

You hold still and wait for her to move again. She doesn’t, other than the steady rise and fall of her chest, so you close your eyes too. You would’ve thought it would be difficult to fall asleep with almost every inch of her body touching every inch of yours, but you’re encompassed in warmth and softness and the scent of cocoa butter. 

Really, it only takes a minute before you’re asleep again.

———

She’s still in your arms when you wake up. Your alarm didn’t ring yet—it must’ve been a combination of Emily’s warmth and your internal clock that woke you up.

Her head is now on your pillow, one of her knees slotted between yours and her arm around your waist. She’s like a clingy koala, even in her sleep, and it only makes your heart ache.

Through the blurriness in your vision you see the small freckles that dot her cheeks. They’re tiny, almost unnoticeable, scattered over the bridge of her nose and under her swooping lashes. Her fingers tighten in your shirt and again the guilt surfaces, but it’s so slow to rise in the pale morning light, when you’re sluggish with sleep.

Emily’s eyes flutter open. 

Shit, you freeze, your muscles stiffening. 

You’re caught.

Suddenly you’re staring into dark chips of obsidian, clouds of sleep swirling through them. At first Emily gives no reaction, but then her brain evidently catches up and her eyes widen, her fingers letting go of your shirt.

Just before you apologize, she does.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. Her voice is raspy and you fight the shiver before it travels down your spine. “I get really—”

“Clingy,” you mumble. “Yeah, I know. It’s obvious.” Your voice is soft, mainly because you’re too tired to fight with your own demons so early in the morning.

“I’m really sorry,” Emily whispers again, mortified. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink as she retracts her arm and her leg, curling back into her side of the bed. The sheets she leaves behind are warm, and you fight the urge to place your hand where she once was.

“S’okay. You do it with everyone, I know that.” Then, because it’s the morning and your brain is half asleep and still fogged from holding her, you ask, “Why not with me, though?”

Her teeth chew down on her lip. “Why not with you, what?” She mumbles.

“Emily,” you sigh, “it’s too early for you to mess with my head. You know what.”

Emily gives a sigh of her own. She doesn’t look at you as she fiddles with the hem of her tank top and drags it back down, hiding the exposed sliver of her torso. It doesn’t help that your eyes follow her movements, because her shorts have ridden up her thighs.

“It means…more when it’s you.” She eventually says, her voice quiet. Your breath hitches and she continues looking down, frowning at the hem of her tank top. “Everything does. Can’t touch you like that and pretend it means nothing.”

The slight slur to her voice makes her confession all the more intimate. As does her bed head, the red sleep lines on the underside of her arm. This is a soft Emily, a vulnerable one, and she’s laying herself bare for you in the morning light while sleep still lingers in both your eyes.

It only confirms your love for her.

Your relief is palpable; it quickly shifts to affection, something flowery crowding the back of your throat and making it hard to swallow. She doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t think you’re disgusting or repulsive. 

She couldn’t touch you because it would give her away. Because it’s the most genuine aspect of her, one she can’t dampen or hide any more than she can stop her heart from beating.

It seems almost too big a revelation for this small hotel room bathed in morning light. Still, your hand reaches for hers. You wrap your fingers around her own, both of them now resting gently on her stomach.

“It doesn’t have to mean nothing.” You whisper.

Emily’s eyes snap to yours. They’re like the black, bitter coffee you have no choice but knock back in precincts all over the country. They make your heart race, because they come closer—she comes closer—until both your heads are resting on the same pillow again. Emily cups your joint hands with her free one, reverently protecting the tenderness of your touch.

“You’re…” Her breath hitches and she falters, then sucks in a breath, “You’re telling me you want this?”

You squeeze her fingers. “More than anything.”

Emily blows out a low sigh. You bring your free hand up to trace the curve of her brow; she leans into it. “I do, too.” She confesses. “More than anything.”

Your thumb travels down to the corner of her mouth. “Then there’s nothing stopping us. Is there?” You ask gently.

“No.” Emily sighs. “Nothing.”

She tilts her head, lets you continue exploring her face with your fingertips. Her features are gently traced; the bridge of her nose and the outline of her lips and the shape of her brows. Slowly, her knee worms its way between both of yours.

You smile and Emily smiles back, a shy dimple in her cheek. 

“Be clingy. With me,” you murmur, keeping your voice low because you’re afraid love already spills from it, “I want you to be.”

Her nose nuzzles into your cheek. “You’ll soon regret saying that.” Emily mumbles, the vibration of her voice reverberating through your skin. It fills you with strange peace.

“Never.” You whisper.

Until the alarm rings, the two of you spend your time erasing away the boundaries, learning the lines of each other’s bodies with your fingertips with slow confidence.

Because now, you have all the time in the world.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[a-simple-gaywitch]

The Boy Next Door

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) and Spencer Reid have been best friends nearly all their lives. Everyone in their lives can see how head-over-heels in love with each other they are. The only ones that can’t? Themselves.

Warnings: minor miscommunication

Word Count: 2307

Author’s Note: my first fic finished in FOREVER! I’m actually pretty happy with this one

“There’s something about childhood friends that you just can’t replace.” - actress Lisa Whelchel

~

“Hey, Pretty Boy. Want to come grab dinner with us tonight?” Morgan asked as the team started gathering their belongings to leave for the day. 

“Sorry, can’t,” Spencer said, hurriedly gathering his stuff and shoving it haphazardly in his satchel. “Gotta pick up a friend from the airport.” The team didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes nor the wide smile as he rushed from the bullpen.

“You think he’ll ever introduce us to this friend?” Emily asked, sidling up beside Derek. 

“Who knows,” he sighed. “You know he’s a private person. He didn’t even tell us about his mom until he had no other choice.”

~

Spencer stood at the baggage claim, his head on a swivel. To say he was beyond excited was an understatement. He was practically bouncing in place as he scanned the crowd of people coming over to collect their belongings. 

Thankfully, he didn’t need to wait for very long. 

“Spencer!”

He spun around quickly to see (Y/N) (L/N), his best friend in the entire world, running over to him. He scooped you up in a hug, spinning you around as you squealed happily.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Spencer said, setting you down. 

“I know! It’s usually the other way around, isn’t it?” you said, taking Spencer’s hand and leading him over to the carousel of luggage. “I feel like it’s always you coming to see me.”

“And you’re here for a whole week,” Spencer said, giving your hand a squeeze. 

You smiled and leaned into his side. “Oh, my god, you’ll never guess what happened on the flight!”

~

You and Spencer grew up next door to each other. Your family had moved to Nevada when you were about 5 years old, into a house next to the Reids. 

You’d always been outgoing and extroverted, so you took it upon yourself to introduce yourself to the boy with the big glasses in the next yard over while your father was building a swing set. 

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” you’d said, leaning over the fence. The boy with the glasses was sitting in the grass, a large book propped up against his legs. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, I-I’m Spencer,” he’d told you. 

You hiked yourself up over the fence and sat down next to him in the grass. “Hi, Spencer. What book is that?”

From that moment on, you and Spencer were near inseparable. Your mother joked that you were each other’s missing pieces. Where you were extroverted, Spencer was introverted. Where you had an interest in all things science and mathematics, Spencer had a love for the classics. 

After William left, your family stepped in to help Diana wherever possible. At least once a week, your mom would bring dinner over. If Spencer just needed to get out, he knew where the spare key was hidden. Your parents would drive Spencer to and from school, especially after the incident on the soccer field. 

When Spencer went off to college, your parents promised to keep an eye on Diana for him, as her condition was getting worse. In exchange, Spencer had to come home for dinner every other week. It wasn’t a hard bargain to keep. Spencer missed you while he was at school, and your parents genuinely worried for Diana. On her good days, she and your mom were close, sharing coffee and discussing novels and poetry together. 

Even when Spencer couldn’t come home to visit, he’d still spend hours on the phone with you. Your father would joke that the two of you were running up his phone bill and tying up the line, but you both knew he wasn’t seriously annoyed. 

Everyone in your lives were shocked you’d never dated. You’d both always claimed you were just best friends.

~

Spencer walked into the bullpen with a spring in his step. Rather than spending money on a hotel, you were staying in Spencer’s spare room while you were in town. Spencer had offered to take the week off, but you’d rejected the offer, knowing how important his job was. Besides, you were at a conference for your work most of the day. 

“Just as long as you don’t get hauled halfway across the country,” you’d joked. 

Spencer flopped onto his desk chair, a smile across his face. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily said as she came in, setting her stuff at her own desk. 

“Hi, Emily,” he said, smiling down at the text you’d just sent him. 

(Y/N): SOMEONE BROUGHT THEIR DOG ON THE TRAIN!!!! 

(Y/N): IT WAS A BIG DOG STUFFED IN AN IKEA BAG!!!

“So, how long is your friend in town?” she asked. 

“The week,” Spencer told him as you sent him a picture of said dog. “She has a conference at the Kennedy Center.”

“You know,” Emily started, “you should invite her to join us for Happy Hour. Let us get to know her a bit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Aw, come on Reid! Why won’t you introduce us?”

“We talking about this Mystery Woman?” Morgan asked, coming over to the two adjoining desks. 

“Yeah. Reid’s refusing to introduce her to us.”

“Aw, come on, Kid. Are we really that bad?” Morgan said, leaning on his desk. 

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing his phone. 

Spencer: Hey, do you want to go out with my coworkers tonight? Our regular bar is having trivia night.

(Y/N): Sure, sounds fun!

Spencer let out a long sigh. “We’ll be there.”

~

“So, (Y/N),” Garcia said, sipping on her fruity drink, “Spencer said you’re in town for a work conference?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “I’m a neuropsychology researcher. My team’s most recent study got selected for a national conference, and they chose me as the spokesperson.” 

“Interesting. What’s the study?”

“We were looking at how psychological trauma impacts the physical structure of the brain.”

Spencer looked at you and how your face lit up as you told his team about your research. He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard Prentiss speak up. 

“I guess it’s lucky you got chosen to speak about it then.”

“Oh, it’s not lucky,” you laughed. “I’m the only person involved in the study who isn’t a crippling introvert. I volunteered for it and they basically threw the money for accommodations at me in gratitude.” You leaned into Spencer’s side and sipped on the single drink you’d ordered. 

“So, work keeps you pretty busy, then?” Morgan asked. “I mean, Spencer’s been talking about you forever and this is the first time we’re meeting you.”

“Well, I do tend to be pretty busy. Usually Spence comes home to see us, not the other way around.”

“So, you still live out in Nevada, then?” JJ asked. 

“No, I actually live in California. I work at Stanford University but I visit my parents and Spencer’s mom about once a month.” You took a sip of your drink and leaned into Spencer’s side. The team looked at how you were curled up in Spencer’s space. They all knew how Spencer felt about physical contact. 

~

The next morning at the office, Morgan rolled his chair over to Spencer’s desk. 

“So, (Y/N)’s cool,” he said. “We like her.”

“Oh. Cool,” Spencer said, fighting back a smile. 

“Yeah, not only is she smart, but she’s cool, too. She’s like a cooler you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“So, why haven’t you asked her out?”

“What?”

“Come on, kid, she’s perfect for you.”

“She’s my best friend, Morgan.”

“Exactly.” Morgan rapped gently on Reid’s desk. “Just think about it.”

~

“Hey, Spence,” you said as you walked into his apartment. 

“Hey,” he said without looking up from his book. “How was your day?”

“Oh, um, it was- it was good,” you said, walking over to sit with him. 

He sat the book on the coffee table and turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath. “I got a job offer today.”

“What? That’s amazing! What’s the job?”

“It’s a lead researcher position at the University of Munich.” You bit your lip as you looked at Spencer, gauging his reaction.

“Oh! That’s-that’s great,” he said. “That’s- I mean, do you want the job?”

“Well, it’s a good offer,” you said. “I’d be heading up a research project on treatments for schizophrenia which, you know, has always been my goal. But I’d have to move to Germany. On the other hand, the benefits are great, and it would be a major pay raise.”

“Well, then, you should take it.”

“Oh.” You cleared your throat. “Oh, um, I just remembered. I was, uh, I was supposed to meet some colleagues for drinks.” You got up and rushed out the door, leaving a very confused Spencer sitting alone in his apartment. 

~

“I don’t get it,” Spencer said, spinning around in his chair. “She asked me what I thought about the job offer, I told her, and now she’s mad at me? She’s never been this mad at me before. She got herself a hotel room. I just- I don’t know what I did.”

“Walk us through it, Reid,” Emily said. “Walk us through exactly what happened.”

“She got a job offer from the University of Munich. It’s a great offer, better position, payment to relocate, all that kind of stuff. So I told her she should take it and-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” JJ cut in. “You told her to take the job?”

“Yeah? Why is that- What did I do wrong?”

JJ sighed. “Spence, it’s not just about the job.”

“You basically told her she should move halfway across the globe,” Emily said. “You’re effectively sending her away.”

“What? That’s not- that’s not what I want! That’s not- I don’t want that at all!”

“Then tell her that, Spence,” JJ said. “Look, it’s clear you’re in love with her. We all see it.”

“And for what it’s worth, (Y/N) feels the same,” Emily said. 

~

You were moping on a hotel bed, blankly staring at the sitcom playing on the TV, when someone started pounding on the door. 

“(Y/N), it’s me,” Spencer said from the other side of the door, still pounding against it.  “Open up. We need to talk.”

You dragged yourself out of the bed, wrapping the duvet around yourself. You trudged to the door where Spencer was still knocking. 

“Okay, okay, don’t burst the door down,” you grumbled, opening the door. Any residual anger you felt toward Spencer evaporated the moment you saw him. His hair was in disarray, his clothes were rumpled, and it looked like he hadn’t slept since you saw him last. “Oh, Spence,” you whispered. 

“We need to talk,” he said, slipping into the room. After taking a seat on the bed, he said, “Don’t take the job in Munich. Don’t go to Germany.”

“Spencer-”

“I talked with some admin over at George Washington U. They have an assistant professor job open in their biochem department. I can get you an interview without a problem and I can even help you look for an apartment if you want, just- don’t go.”

“Spencer-”

“(Y/N), I love you.”

You froze. “What?”

“You- you don’t have to say it back,” Spencer said. “But the thought of you being even further away- it kills me. I’m in love with you. And I think I always have been.”

You reached over and took his hand. “Spence. I love you, too.”

Spencer’s face broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. “What? Really?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “Spencer, I've been in love with you since we were 16 years old.”

“What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You shrugged and stood up, pacing in front of the bed. “It was never the right time. Either you were in school or I was in school or you were starting a job or I was starting a job-“ you sighed. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never dated? Didn’t you wonder why I only had 1 boyfriend when I was in high school and we broke up after, like, a month?”

“I just- I just figured you weren’t the dating type.”

You gave a small, sad smile. “No. It’s because my heart has always belonged to you. He knew it. Mom and Dad knew it. Everyone knew it before I did. Except you.”

Spencer smiled and shook his head, standing to join you. “We wasted so much time.” You saw a mischievous glint sharpen in his eyes. “And I’m not wasting anymore.” Spencer cupped your face and kissed you until you felt your knees go weak. He lifted you up and tossed you onto the hotel bed as you giggled. 

~

Spencer knocked on Hotch’s door before pushing it open. “Hotch? Can I talk to you?”

Hotch gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. What’s up, Reid?”

“Uh, can I have two weeks off next month? I, uh, I’m helping my girlfriend move.” He couldn’t fight the smile on his face. 

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, uh, (Y/N). We-we made it official. She’s moving to D.C. She got a job teaching at the university.”

“She moving in with you?” Hotch asked. “Seems a bit fast, don’t you think?”

“Well, no,” Spencer said. “I mean, yes, she’s moving in with me, but no, it’s not fast. We’ve known each other our entire lives. We know everything about each other. It makes sense.”

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched. “Well, you’ve definitely accrued enough vacation time. I’ll file the time off paperwork.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” Spencer got up to leave.

“Oh, and Reid?” Hotch called. Spencer turned around. “It’s good to see you smiling.”

[kinardgo]

I saw a post a while ago about Tommy and Buck running into Buck's exes, but I'd be interested in them running into Tommy's exes (boyfriend and/or girlfriends)

i spent such a long time fleshing out an OC for this tiny little oneshot but i could not get this out of my head gfhdhsjjdf.

EDIT: okay this isn't tiny and maybe i got over excited.

bucktommy / rated t / prompt requests still open

-

"Tommy?"

Chim stops mid-sentence, hands still up in a gesture, and his mouth is a little open as he looks over Buck's shoulder, behind him. Hen and Eddie seem similarly afflicted. Confused, Buck turns around, and-

Woah.

Buck's not unfamiliar with attractive people - he works in an environment with a lot of hot, athletic people, who do insane, heroic things, and since discovering that he's playing equal time for both teams, the pool of people that are nice to look at has grown considerably. That's a given. But... woah.

Green. Very green eyes.

"Dan! Oh, shit, how long has it been?" Tommy grins, getting up quickly enough that his chair scrapes against the concrete.

Hen and Chimney are doing their freaky psychic parademic mind melding communication thing, which mostly involves a lot of eyebrow movement and head tilting, and Eddie is glancing from Dan to Buck like he's nervous. This was supposed to be a chill little brunch, a catch up between friends. It's nice, being able to bring his partner to brunch like this, the same way Hen brings Karen and Chim brings Maddie. He never brought Ali, or Taylor, or any of his girlfriends. For reasons he could never quite pinpoint, he never wanted to let his worlds collide like that.

But Tommy is already part of his world. He's got inside jokes with Chim and Hen that Buck still doesn't quite get. He brings his own stories about the job, and he can laugh at everyone elses without getting maudlin and worried the way any of Buck's exes would. Tommy is as much a part of Buck's world as Buck is of his.

Except, Tommy's world apparantly has other things in it. Like Dan. Dan with the very green eyes, and the black hair swept carelessly back off his face like he thinks he's a 90's movie star, a little grey peppered at his temples and a t-shirt that has to be at least two sizes too small. Dan with his arm around Tommy's shoulder, and a 1000 watt smile dangerously close to Tommy's mouth, like he's not 100% committed to pulling out of this extremely long hug.

"What are you doing in California? You miss the sunshine?" Tommy asks, his hand still very noticably on Dan's hip.

"Don't even say that, those Oregon winters are no joke," he huffs, "Nah, I'm down for my sister's wedding."

"Emily's getting married? What the hell, she was barely out of college last time I checked."

"Yeah, Tommy, that was six years ago," he laughs, "All grown up now, marrying some IT geek from San Diego. Don't know what he did to deserve her, but my balls have been well and truly threatened if I give him anymore shit."

They chat for another few minutes, completely oblivious to the audience they have, oblivious to the way that Buck's hands are clenching into fists under the table. Tommy's usually so poised, straight-backed, almost stoic. Even his humour is deadpan, but Buck relishes the moments where he can tease easy smiles and full body laughs and dorky jokes out of him. Dan and his pretty eyes seem to have that down pat, too.

"Uh, I feel like I've crashed a party here, Tom."

Tommy blinks, looking back over at their table.

"Shit, sorry," he says, "I should have said. These are the good folks of the 118 firehouse. You probably know Hen and Howie by reputation, and this is Karen and Maddie," Tommy indicates each of them in turn, and they give a wave, "That's Eddie, and this is my boyfriend, Evan."

He says is so casually, like it costs him nothing, and it drags a smile out him the way it always does. Boyfriend. Buck stands, offering a hand. There are still half-cresent marks on his palm from where he'd dug his nails in.

"Good to meet you, man."

"You too, Evan."

"Buck," he says reflexively, "People call me Buck."

"Sure," he says easily.

Tommy is staring at him, face unreadable, but he smiles anyway, polite, almost professional.

"This is Dan Archer, and he used to be the best damn EMT in California," he says, clapping him on the shoulder, "until he deserted us for the PFR."

"Portland, huh? That's a good department to work for, from what I hear," Hen grins, "You guys were trialling those new electric ambulances in 2019, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Dan laughs, "All green, baby. Not that it matters when you're pulling another hiker out the Cascades in mid-December, but for some reason no one wanted to put the funding into my caterpillar-tread gurneys idea."

Chim snorts, "Shit, that's a good one. We should start lobbying for that, Hen."

"Ain't that the truth," she mutters.

"I don't have that problem," Tommy says smugly. Dan punches him in the arm, "You wanna stick around? This place some amazing bruschetta."

The collective inhale the table takes is probably loud enough to hear across the street. Eddie puts his coffee down like he's worried he's going to have to do something that involves having both of his hands free, like restrain Buck.

"Nah, I'm just doing a coffee run, then I've got to get back to the pre-festivities festivities," Dan shrugs, apparantly oblivious, "And maybe buy a shotgun to clean somewhere in view of Samuel."

Tommy laughs, "Give 'em hell, Archer. And don't be a stranger."

"You neither, Kinard," he grins, "I'll take you up on that bruschetta before I head back North."

"You better."

Tommy sits back down, and puts a hand on Buck's thigh. Nothing salacious or suggestive, just the weight of his palm and the heat of his skin. Familiar. The group lapses back into the same kind of easy chatter that they had before. Maddie and Chim talking about something cute Jee had done last week. Hen recounts in detail the call out they got that ended with having to deep bleach the inside of the ambulance. Buck takes a hold of Tommy's wrist, feels his pulse against his fingers, a steady, paitent beat.

-

Tommy's mouth paints lines of heat against Buck's shoulders. He's on his stomach in Tommy's bed - their bed, really, with how often Buck is here these days - propped up on his elbows. There's a book open on the pillow in front of him, something he found on Tommy's bookshelf about the history of the American rail network. It's been open on the same page for the last ten minutes, Buck's eyes somewhere in the middle distance.

There's temptation here, in the form of Tommy's half naked body pressed up alongside his, the hand on his lower back, his mouth. But Buck's mind is going a mile a minute.

"Baby," Tommy murmers, lips pressed to the nape of his neck.

"How do you know him?"

Tommy stills, just a moment where he freezes, before he exhales.

"I don't know if I like you thinking about other men while I'm trying to seduce you."

"Well, he is a very handsome man," Buck mutters, before he can help himself.

Tommy snorts, "Seriously?"

"It's ridiculous," he grumbles, "He's a paramedic, not a model. What's he even-"

Tommy muffles his laughter into Buck's shoulder, his body shaking with it. It should irritate him, it should make him feel belittled and mocked, but the way Tommy curls over Buck's naked back, smudging kisses into his hair and muttering his name softens the blow.

"I'm being an idiot, aren't I?" he says flatly, and it just makes Tommy laugh harder.

"No, Evan, you're being jealous, and possessive, and very sweet," he says, indulgent. Tommy is always indulgent with him, and Buck aches with how much he doesn't deserve it, "I know there's no way for me to say this without it sounding sarcastic, but I really do think that you glaring daggers at my ex like you're thinking about burying him under a carpark is extremely attractive."

Buck huffs, "So, he is your ex."

"Yes, he's my ex," he says, trailing a finger down the dip of Buck's spine, "We dated for nearly a year, the first year I moved to Harbour. He was my first serious relationship after I came out."

Buck doesn't really know what to say to that. Tommy represents a whole lot of firsts to Buck. First kisses, first touches, first fucks. Not first ever, obviously, but a kind of first all their own. And maybe Buck is always going to be a too much, too fast kinda guy, but he can't imagine getting over that, getting over him. Not even after five, six years.

"It ended amiciably. He got the job offer from Portland. Captaincy. Dan's job is important to him, too important to pass it up. I understood that."

"Do you miss him?"

Tommy kisses his shoulder, "All the time. He's been a good friend to me over the years."

"Do you see him very often?"

"Handful of times, since he moved," Tommy smiles, curling his fingers into the hair at the back of Buck's neck, "Came down for Harris' retirement. Couple years ago, we met up while he visiting family. I went up to Portland last year, too."

"Oh?" Buck says, feigning indifference and probably missing it by a mile, "How was it?"

"It was great. Awesome city. Great hiking in the area, and the ceremony was beautiful."

"What ceremony?" Buck asks, jerking up.

"You would have cried," Tommy continues like he didn't even hear him, like he didn't almost just headbutted in Buck's eagerness tosit upright, "I bet you always cry at weddings, but you definitely would have cried at this one. I bawled like a baby."

Buck shoves at Tommy's chest playfully, and he bounces when his back hits the mattress, laughing again.

"What wedding?"

"Dan's wedding," Tommy grins, "to his husband, Jake. Who he loves very very much."

He groans, shoving his head into the pillow, but Tommy doesn'tlet him mope about it for very long. A strong pair of hands roll him flat onto his back, and Tommy wastes absolutely no time in covering his body with his own, pushing between his legs and kissing him halfway to stupid. Which doesn't bode well for Buck, who's pretty sure he was more than halfway there already.

"You're ridiculous," Tommy says fondly, pressing a kiss to Buck's cheek.

"I know," he sighs, "I'm sorry."

Tommy kisses him again, before propping himself upon his elbows, "We're gonna talk about this properly tomorrow, about you being this worried about me... leaving? Or being interested in other people? Whatever it is, okay? We're gonna talk about it, because I don't actually want you to be upset, Evan," he says softly, "but you don't need to apologise for being jealous. It's just an emotion."

"Not the best emotion on me, though," Buck sighs, "It's not even rational."

"Maybe," Tommy shrugs, "but I wasn't lying when I said I like it on you sometimes. I don't regret my relationship with Dan, so what's rational about me liking how much you wish you were the only one who has ever touched me?"

Tommy's got a talent for taking Buck's most ridiculous thoughts, his worst traits, the ugliest sides of him, and rearranging all the pieces so that they actually make sense. He's so steadying, like a hand on his back while he feels like he's constantly walking on a tightrope. All of it is like water off a duck's back to Tommy, even when it feels like Buck's about to drown in it.

"God, please just kiss me," Buck whispers, half because he wants to, he always wants to, and half because it minimises the risk of saying anything else stupid, like 'I hate your gorgeous hero of an ex just because he got to kiss you before I did', or 'I like myself better when I'm with you than I ever had before', or 'I love you', or 'please don't talk about weddings around me because I'm terrified of the images in my head right now and how good you look in a suit'.

"Yeah?" Tommy breathes, his mouth hovering just over Buck's, "You gonna be thinking about him again?"

"Thinking about who?" Buck mutters back, just to be a brat.

Tommy laughs, a gentle, soft little thing that's so, so fond, but he kisses him anyway.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"anything" - emily prentiss x liaison!fem!reader

summary: you take an unnecessary risk out in the field

wc: 1.4k

cw: flangst? typical cm violence, but mostly just mentions, pre-establish relationship!

this is my first emily fic plz lmk if u like it!

A steady beeping slowly drags you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you take in the hospital room around you. The first thing you notice is the source of the beeping, from the patient monitor beside your bed. Then the pain hits you like a muffled train wreck, crashing into you but hitting a wall, so it doesn’t hurt quite so bad. They must have you on some strong medication, because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. The worst feeling of all, though, comes from your abdomen, and when you shift in the bed, it aches and this weak little whimper uncontrollably escapes you. 

“Don’t move,” the velvet voice beside you warns. You didn’t even realize Emily was in here, that’s how knocked out you feel. When you turn your head, you see she’s got the chair pulled up as close to your bed as it can go, her elbows connected to her knees in a C-shaped hunch. “You’ll pop your stitches, and it still wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done today.”

You hear the sternness in your girlfriend’s voice and feel the color drain from your face. She always said you could never control your face, at least not around the people you love. In family interviews, or talking to the press? You could be stone-cold, unreadable. But once you’re comfortable around someone, your visage has a mind of its own. 

“I’m-”

“I know, you’re sorry,” Emily scoffs. Her voice reminds you of bitter, dark chocolate right now. She’s clearly irritated, but remains by your side loyally. That’s how you know she loves you. “That doesn’t change the fact that you made a thoughtless, reckless decision.” 

“I was actually going to say that I’m not sorry,” you huff, groaning softly as you move your rear back to sit up a little. Emily leans back in her seat and her jaw hardens. “Maybe I did act on impulse, but you would have done the same thing.” 

“You disobeyed Hotch’s direct order to stay put,” Emily’s chocolate eyes darken, and she rises from her seat, towering over you with her arms crossed over her chest. “And it got you shot.”

“I thought you were in trouble,” you grumble, your voice just barely above a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You and Hotch and Morgan all went in different directions, and I heard a scream and a gunshot from where you had gone,” you rattle off, your words all stringing together from the drowsiness. 

You recalled the vast farmland property where Garcia had nailed down the Unsub, how Hotchner didn’t want to wait on SWAT to show up because the guy’s endgame was so close to playing out. He killed at exactly noon with every single one of his victims, so the team had three minutes to find this missing girl. 

“And I couldn’t just stay put, Emily, not when I thought you’d been hurt,” you wring your hands over the top of the scratchy hospital blanket, your knuckles going stark white. “I couldn’t just wait to see what had happened. I couldn’t be helpless like that, not when I thought you might be hurt.” 

Emily’s got her eyes closed and she’s breathing in and out sharply, like she’s forcing herself to calm down, to filter through her initial thoughts so as to not say anything irreversible. “But Hotch told you to stay put,” she repeats in a defeated murmur, lifting one arm to run her hand through her hair. Her fringe is all over the place, and you’re just now noticing the dirt on her milky white cheek. She’s not rested since the farm, you realize, not even taken a second to wipe the dirt off her face. 

Guilt pours over you like a rainstorm, and you feel angry, frustrated, self-reproaching tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I didn’t do it to scare you,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, Em. I’m sorry that you had to worry about me like that. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant knowing that you were okay.” 

“Don’t Em me,” her voice cracks and you see tears start to fall from her eyes. She must be so tired. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but you can tell from her posture, from her expression, that she’s not had a moment of respite since she saw the bullet take you down. 

You recall the look on her face - horrified, when she hovered over you, lying in the dirt. She shot the Unsub directly after he shot you. Hotch and Morgan made it in time to help the victim out of her ties, so she ran over to you the second the Unsub was down. 

“What were you thinking?!” she shrieked, lifting your shirt only to find blood oozing from the hole in your stomach. 

“I thought…” you murmured breathlessly, your eyes immediately feeling heavy. 

“Someone get a medic over here now!” she shouted, holstering her gun and pressing her hands onto your stomach. You woke up in the ambulance a little bit after that, but were too hazy to say anything. 

All you remember is Emily crushing your hand between both of yours and muttering something under her breath repeatedly. "Stay with me, baby." You hear it now. "Please don't go."

You reach gingerly for her hand as she stands over you now, unable to stretch your arm out too far for fear of popping a stitch. She helps you out and shuffles forward a step, sitting back down in her chair and pulling it next to the bed. Your fingers grasp hers, and then your palms are flush together. “I’m still really pissed at you,” Emily says. “So is Hotch. Says he has half a mind to take you off active duty altogether.” 

You purse your lips. Surely that’s not totally true. “Well, then he’d have to deal with the press on his own, and he’d want to rip his hair out,” you say. Emily squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. 

“I think he’d do it if it mitigates the risk of you getting shot,” Emily admits seriously. 

“It’s just a graze,” you grumble. Emily’s glowering at you again, and you concede. “A graze that required emergency surgery, but still a graze.” 

“Baby, I don’t think you know what a graze is,” Emily says. “They had to remove a bullet from your stomach. That’s not a graze.” 

You feel your cheeks tingle as they turn pink and you shrug your shoulders, pretending to be none the wiser. “Tomato, tomahto,” you wave your free hand nonchalantly. 

“You feel okay right now? D’you need any more pain meds?” Emily asks, the caretaker in her taking over, despite her frustration towards you getting into this situation in the first place. 

“I’m alright,” you say quietly. Emily’s eyes, beautiful orbs of brown so dark they’re almost black, float down to where your wound is. “Em, hey,” you insist, and those eyes snap back up to yours. “I’m alright. Promise.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are,” Emily chastises with a sigh. 

“How long are they keeping me here?” you ask in a feeble attempt to change the subject. 

“Probably just a couple of days,” she says, lifting your knuckles to her lips and kissing them gently, like you’re made of fine china, like you could shatter at any moment. “Everyone wants to see you. I told them you probably wouldn’t be up for visitors until tomorrow,” she says. 

“That’s fine,” you agree, leaning your head back against the pillow. Whatever medications flowing through the IV in your wrist has you feeling very low-energy. “And how long are you gonna be mad at me?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little in an attempt to earn some sympathy points. 

Emily shakes her head a little, but you see the faint uptick of her mouth that gives her away. “At the very least, however long it takes you to recover,” she jokes halfheartedly. 

“Does my punishment come with a ban on kisses?” you ask, tugging her hand with your own. 

Emily leans forward in her seat, her lips mere centimeters from your own. “That would be a punishment for me, too, and I didn’t do anything wrong,” she teases, then pecks your lips briefly. 

Your eyes are feeling heavy, and you heave a small sigh. “Love you, Em,” you say softly as the room goes dark. “Do anything for you, Em.” 

“I know you would, baby,” Emily sighs as well, but you feel her thumb swiping over the back of your hand. “That’s the problem.”

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him. 

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent  nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself. 

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him. 

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet.  Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones. 

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you. 

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report. 

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment. 

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

-

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this. 

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you. 

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder. 

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would. 

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the  time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop. 

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then. 

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon. 

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better. 

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that. 

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag. 

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims. 

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be. 

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.” 

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” 

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago. 

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?” 

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out. 

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it. 

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon. 

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat. 

“What?” 

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight. 

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago. 

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy. 

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling. 

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.” 

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.” 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.” 

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.” 

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end. 

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing. 

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?” 

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin. 

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking. 

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car. 

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back. 

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.” 

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that. 

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition. 

and voila <3

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ first part | next part ♡

summary: after confronting an unsub, it leaves you with a ugly mark and Spencer decides to give you a gift to cheer you up.

warnings: mentions of physical violence, beyond that a bit of girl power from reader and a sweet spencer worried about you.

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,567 words.

a/n: by popular demand, here is part two of law in pink, and yes, I will be returning to this story in a short series with chapters from ssa woods!reader x spencer. thank you very much again and I hope you like it.

The first rule everyone should know about you is that they must never mess with your face.

Never.

Because they don't know what a process it is to get it well cared for, hydrated and with that natural glow. They also don't know how expensive your skincare products are (always the best of the best) and your sessions with your dermatologist.

So they should never, but never, mess with your face.

But clearly an unsub wasn't going to know that, a criminal accused of killing 4 women with a twisted mind was never going to think that.

Least of all when his hand punched you straight in the face, splitting your lip and leaving a mark on your cheekbone, causing the taste of iron to be savored in your mouth.

"What, is Barbie going to cry about her face? I don't understand why they sent the weakest one."

You turned to look at him as you heard his sarcastic laugh, which didn't last long as the Gucci logo on your heel was branded on his cheek and he was falling dazed after hitting a box in the process.

"Weak? Please, you messed with the wrong Barbie." You smiled proudly at the sight of him on the floor, pawing at your face and letting out a groan at the sensation of pain. "Now I'll have to make an appointment with my dermatologist and a traumatologist because of you." You sighed pulling the gun away from his body and proceeded to take his hands to cuff them.

Within minutes, you heard some voices calling out to you, so you began to signal where you were. Within seconds, you saw a concerned J.J. and Emily come down to where you were standing, pointing their guns at you.

The scene was amusing and amazing to watch, you on top of a man who was twice your size as well as weight, lying on the ground while his hands were cuffed.

"Malibu Barbie just captured the undercover toy." You motioned for the cops to take him away, noticing how Emily got a close look at your lip.

"That must hurt."

"It'll hurt more for him, these babies are from last season and has a good sole. Fresh from the mail and ready to make a mark." You commented showing your heels to your companions, hearing their laughter at your joke.

The three of you walked out behind the hoard of people, noticing Spencer and Derek getting out of the newly arrived SUV. As soon as Spencer's gaze captured your face in his field of vision, you could feel him notice right away how your wounded face was the focus of the stares.

"What happened?" Derek looked in everyone's direction, stopping your gaze on you and the clear change in your usual 'perfect' face. "Oh no, Barbie..."

"Don't even look at me, better look at him." You pointed your chin in the direction of the patrol car, where your shoe logo was visible on the criminal's ruddy cheek. "My pilates classes taught him a good lesson." You commented smiling, but immediately let out a groan from the pain it was to move the muscles in your face. "But I think it will leave me achy for a few days."

In between conversations, the others convinced you to go get attended to, so you heeded and walked away from them in the direction of the ambulance, so they could give your cheekbone and lip attention.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

Spencer's soft voice made you forget the pain for a few seconds, turning to see his face and giving him a smile where your white teeth took center stage.

"I'm fine, it was just a tap." The paramedic walked away to leave the two of you alone. You knew it wasn't an answer that would leave Spencer satisfied about your condition, in fact, his intense stare at you was more than enough to make that clear. You let out a sigh, turning to look at the brunette. "Well, I don't think it's just a 'tap out'. I'll have to ask for a couple of days until I show up at the office decently, not with this horrible face."

One of your biggest problems was your appearance, as many may note, because, if you weren't perfect, you couldn't leave your house.

It had to be everything, head to toe, just the way you have it in your head, if not, sorry, but they'll have to wait for you.

"It's not horrible, you still look just as beautiful." Spencer's words seemed impulsive, but they made your cheeks turn pink, even though I wasn't the only one blushing at that moment, Spencer's were just the same.

"You think so?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, watching the boy.

"Y-yes, y-you always look cute, Y/N."

A kiss on his cheek was the positive response you left for Spence to understand that his words were the best choice, and helped push away those thoughts about how bad you looked with a swollen lip and bruises on your cheek.

"Thank you Spencie, your words are always the right ones. Like a good Chai Latte on a cold day." You smiled getting up from where you were, indicating to him that you would go to the SUV.

For the first time in his life, Spencer appreciated his impulsiveness.

About a week later, you reappeared at the office for a full day's work.

Your body was covered by a pink skirt and jacket ensemble, something that was no longer a problem for anyone after weeks of seeing you arrive like this.

The only thing that wasn't pink at all was your black purse, a beautiful Alexandra. K. Joy and of course, the tray full of coffees you were carrying in your hands.

"Miss Universe, you're back." Derek smiled, causing you to walk up to him and leave a short hug.

"Good things always come back, now be a cutie and help me with this, D." You passed him the tray with coffees, walking beside him as you shared a couple of words.

There was a variety of coffees for everyone according to their tastes, you had taken the time to memorize each order so that it was to their liking.

And as soon as you appeared, you heard Penelope's voice call out to you. Your hand rose to greet her, approaching her with a smile.

"My pretty Y/N." The blonde immediately caught you in a hug, causing you to do the same.

"Penny!" you said cheerfully as you passed her a butterscotch frappe with plant-based milk. "I picked out something I thought you'd like."

"Thanks, cutie. How's your lip?"

"Sore, a little damaged, but better than I thought. My dermatologist recommended a magic cream that Lindsay Lohan used, she said it worked miracles and in two weeks it would be just the way it was."

A smile tugged at your lips, starting to pass out the coffees you had bought until you reached the last one: the one for Dr. Reid.

"Spencie." Your voice snapped him out of his head, turning to see you with a smile.

"Y/N, hey. How are you doing?"

"Much, much better, look... My lip looks almost like it did before! I'll get back to my pretty face." You placed the coffee in front of his eyes, giving him another smile. "A coffee loaded with vegetable milk, I heard around that you're lactose intolerant so I took the liberty of choosing for you."

A blush of embarrassment at that secret settled on his cheeks, causing him to lower his head.

"Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate the coffee." He lifted the cup, taking a sip from it and simply gave you a look, causing you to smile and go to your table.

But it was surprise that settled on your face as you saw a box full of skincare products. Your hands went to grab the products, noticing that it was every single one you occupied and ever mentioned.

"What? Guys... Wow." You held up the little serum box, but the confusion on Emily's face turned your excitement to confusion. "It wasn't you guys?"

"I don't even remember what I did yesterday and I'm going to remember your products, cutie. You take a lot of them." Emily laughed softly, but made you look again in search of the person responsible.

"There's only one person who can remember details like that." Derek's words drew your gaze from your desk to that of a certain doctor, who was shifting his gaze back to his paperwork. "And he hides behind his work."

A soft blush settled on your cheeks, causing you to bring the little box to your chest and press it to your heart, marveling at the detail.

Your feet soon made their way to the desk of the person in charge, and catching him off guard, you left a kiss on his cheek where your pink lipstick was stamped on his skin.

"Thank you, Spencie. I'll take good care of it."

Spencer's heart stopped for a couple of seconds, you could read it.

And as soon as you left, just like a tomato the young doctor's face colored. As a plus, the comments from Morgan didn't take long to come.

"Wow pretty boy, you just won the lottery."

Spencer knew it and that caused him to smile, because boy did he win it.

♡ first part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[ghsface]

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

[lis-likes-fics]

Is That a Challenge?

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, abo themes, omega!Spencer, alpha!Reader, (mentions of alpha!Emily) heat/rut mentions, sexual innuendos, multiple orgasms, edging oral (f! receiving), biting, claiming, praise, sub/dom themes, aftercare... A/N: This was so hard to write because I'm not really used to writing dom!Reader. I'm also not used to writing sub guys because I'm used to wanting all my blorbos to rail me so...this was new to me. I will eventually write a fic where Spencer does the railing though, TRUST! But here it is! I hope you and enjoy. Happy Halloween!

Traffic was a fucking nightmare, but at least you're here. People were moving slowly this morning for a reason unbeknownst to you. Your coffee is the only thing keeping you sane so far, and you're pretty sure it's by mere placebo.

You set your bag on your desk with a heavy sigh, saying your lazy hellos to the girls. You guess Morgan's in his office since he isn't here.

“Where's Rossi?” you wonder briefly as you switch your computer on.

“Hotch,” Emily mumbles. You hum.

“Spence isn't here today?” JJ wonders as she glances around for your boy genius.

You shake your head, plopping down in your chair with your arm thrown over the back. “No, he had to stay home,” you answer. “Not feeling too well.”

Emily turns, raising a brow. “He's not sick, right?”

You hum, tilting your head slightly. You busy yourself with your password. “Not exactly.”

You hear her before you see her. She's wearing something dangly today.

“Where is my cutie patootie?” She sounds playfully vexed. “He hasn't come to see me yet.”

“Wow, everyone is worried about my boyfriend today,” you say, turning in your chair to face all your girls.

“Well, your boyfriend doesn't miss work without plenty of notice,” Emily replies.

You purse your lips, turning away to focus on your work. You're sure there's plenty of it today. “Something came up…”

There's a very brief silence. JJ chuckles, catching your unintended insinuation. “Oh…” she says, “was that something him?”

You crinkle your nose, turning right back around to show her how unimpressed you are by her joke. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

You probably should have confirmed or denied because now they're very interested. To be fair, it was a rather inappropriate response to respond to (not that that has ever stopped any of you from prying into the other's personal lives).

Penelope’s face shifts from her confusion into something rather mischievous. “Oh. Oh! Oh.”

Emily leans forward, a smirk on her lips as she sets her elbow on her leg. “Why aren't you staying home then?”

You cross your legs, your foot over your knee to pull close to you. “Proving a point.”

“Oh,” Penelope says again. “Oh.”

“Are you going to keep saying ‘oh’?” you question, shaking your head at her.

She sits on your desk, her enthusiasm leaking out of her ears. Maybe if you let it, she'll deflate and have to go refill your air supply.

“Yes,” she nods definitely. “Because—Oh, my God. I knew you were both little freaks.”

She is way too excited about your sex life.

You roll your eyes at her. “What's freaky about me proving a point by coming to work?”

“The fact that your point–” she pokes you, “–is so freaky.”

Emily and JJ are eating this up. They've both fully abandoned their work to turn toward you and pry. JJ’s got her legs crossed, Emily's got hers spread as she leans forward. They're all holding coffee mugs in their hands in place of tea cups.

“What’d he do?” Emily asks. She's bobbing her brows.

You laugh, covering your face with your hand as you sigh. “If I tell you, you cannot tell Morgan. He will never let Spence live it down.” Poor Spencer would have to go through that every day. It's just mean.

JJ’s the first to respond. “Deal.”

“He's getting nothing outta me,” Emily nods.

“You have my silence.” Penelope pretends to lock her mouth with a key. She stuffs said imaginary key in her bosom.

“Promise?” you warn.

“Yes!” she exclaims. “My lips are sealed. That's what the key was for.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your hesitant smile as you go through the morning. “The…” you chuckle lightly. “The heat snuck up on us this morning.” Their understanding comes in various hums and mumbles. “Obviously, I'm a little hot, too. I told him I would call in to be with him, and he agreed because,” you lick your lips, effectively conveying your slight annoyance, “I'd likely ‘be too frayed to focus anyway’.”

“Oo.”

“Yikes,” Penelope winces.

You nod. “And I told him that I could last longer than him. He pulled out all his statistics, said that my ‘kind’ was statistically less controlled at this time than his. I took that as a challenge.”

JJ hums, “So would I if I were in your shoes.” She brings her cup to her lips.

“Please,” Emily scoffs. “If my girlfriend said that to me, it would be all over for her.”

You shrug. “I told him that I'd last the day without so much as a text. First to make contact loses.” You glance at your phone, searching for anything and finding nothing. “He's doing well so far. I thought he'd tap out after the first hour. He was really bad this morning.”

“Only…” Emily checks her watch, “seven more hours to go.”

It's only been an hour since you left the house. One hour. Singular.

This morning has been so slow, and it's only been an hour.

“Seven?”

You might give up now.

Emily chuckles, though she's sympathetic to your cause. “Hang in there. Make us proud.”

Penelope shrugs. “Hey, chicks before private parts and all that, but I will be rooting for Spencer. I have faith in him.” She makes a fist to show her firm stance in this race.

JJ sighs. “That's sweet, Pen, but he'll probably tap out within the next hour. I know I probably would.” She shrugs. “But it's not for a lack of trying.”

Penelope laughs at that. “And so would I, but he's strong. Right?”

You turn back around to face your computer, snickering to yourself. “You should see him in bed.”

You hold your hand out behind you. Emily smacks it before swiveling in her own chair. JJ and Penelope roll their eyes. She scoots off your desk to leave.

~

When your phone rings, “Penny” is shining on your screen like she's already in your face. You answer.

“I need news. Anything yet?”

You roll your eyes. She hadn't even waited for a hello. “You called me for this?”

“Has he texted you?” she insists.

Your leg starts jumping. “Nothing yet.”

It's a little frustrating. You've been here for how long? Spencer was about to burst this morning. After he'd proposed his little facts, you didn't even help him out before you left. Now he hasn't called or texted or even asked about you through any of your friends.

Penelope is ecstatic. “See?” She squeals.

“He's still got another three hours,” you say. “He'll break.”

“Oh, my wonder boy?” She giggles. “Never.”

You run a hand down your face at her support of him. It's sort of annoying because she's sort of right. Spencer is very stubborn when he wants to be. That's what happens when you know everything.

She hangs up on you. You put your phone down with a sigh and focus in again on your work. If you don't, you think you might lose (which would never happen).

“Pen?” Emily mumbles.

“Who else?”

~

It's the end of the day. The sun will be gone by the time you make it home. Not a single peep.

You're surrounded by the girls as you all step into the elevator. Penelope starts to say something, but you see Derek first.

“The door, the door, the door!” you whisper-shout.

You all start jabbing the close-door button, and you think briefly that you'll break it. All the boys look on, entirely taken aback by such behavior.

“Wait. Hold on!” The doors close in Derek's face.

You let out a breath of relief.

“He actually did it,” JJ smiles.

Emily shrugs, though she sighs a little. “I'm impressed.”

“No. No,” you wag your finger. “Not yet. The deal is no contact, not no texting. When I get home, he'll be all over me, and then he'll lose.”

Your annoyance is funny to them. 

Penelope almost whines. “First to touch? That's evil.”

Emily doesn't sympathize. “But worth it. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Wait, so what happens if you win?” JJ wonders.

“Spencer has to wash the dishes for a month No questions asked.”

“Oh.” Penelope hums, then she sighs. “Underwhelming.”

Emily leans against the wall. “I thought he already does dishes.”

“He does,” you say. “Gladly, I might add, because he knows I hate them.”

The doors slide open on the main floor. They continue to follow you.

“Then what's the challenge?” Emily asks.

You shrug. “Dignity.” Your car beeps as you press on the key fob.

“Oh, please,” JJ scoffs. “It's pride. She just wants to prove she's better than him ‘cause she's an Alpha.”

You don't look at her. “Two things can be true.”

“So what's the real deal, huh?” Penelope’s voice shifts down, and her nose crinkles in a gremlin-like manner. “Loser gets down and dirty? Are we talking who'll cry first?”

You all turn to look at her. Her smirk fades a little, and she rolls her eyes with a scoff. “What? I might be rainbows and unicorns but ya girl gets down in poundtown.”

JJ’s brows raise. She smiles as she nods, “Alright, then.”

To be honest, the parameters of the deal were fuzzy. Whatever you propose, Spencer will love. Whatever Spencer proposes, you will love. You're compatible in that way.

The ideas are making it hard to pretend you've got it together.

“I guess we'll never know.” Emily leans on your car, crossing her ankles.

“Know what?”

Morgan's voice breaks the four of you from your huddle. You turn to him as he comes forth, the Hotch and Rossi in tow. He puts his hands on his hips.

“What do you mean?”

Derek scoffs, as if to say “don't play with me”. You look at him expectantly, and he just shakes his head at you. “You said you guess you'll never know.”

You continue to play dumb. It's rather fun that way. “What won't you know?”

Derek crosses his arms over his broad chest. He raises a brow at all of you, waiting for someone to break and not expecting it to come from you or Emily.

“Does it have something to do with the kid?” He glances at Penelope, and you have to fight the urge to stare her down and remind her of the deal.

But alas. “Hearing you call him ‘kid’ in this context is really tripping me up.”

“So it is!”

“Penelope!” you scold.

She winces, covering her face to hide her blush and her smile. “I'm sorry!” Everyone's laughing by now.

You sigh, turning back to Derek. “Spencer is fine. Hotch knows. He was a little under the weather this morning.”

Everyone looks at Hotch. His face is as blank as ever. Until it isn't.

It is so, so slight. But the faintest glimmer of a smirk curves his lip, and you know it's over. The traitor.

“Oh-ho!” Derek claps. “I saw that.” He turns to you. “You mean longin’ to be under those sheets?”

You think it's funny that Derek thinks he's funny.

“Good job, Garcia,” JJ laughs.

“Sorry!”

Emily pokes fun. “Hotch, what happened to poker face?”

His hands come up. His smile is wide.

“It's fine. Spence is fine,” you insist. You begin to realize that it has been all day since he's seen you, and he's probably going to lose his mind soon. “And if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure he's doing okay.”

Derek laughs, lightly smacking your shoulder. “Go rock his world, girl.”

Penelope raises a stern finger to him, “You are in time out, mister!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow. “Well, hopefully I can be in time out with you. How's that sound?”

They both walk away cheerfully. Derek glances over his shoulder at you, waving and then pretending to zip his lips. You smile back at him. At least Spencer can live in relative peace then.

Emily nudges your shoulder with hers. “Make us proud.” Her phone chimes. You watch something in her face change as she sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Speaking of which, I have to get home.”

She leaves abruptly, making haste in getting to her car to what you believe is going to be a good night for her.

JJ laughs as she leaves. “Still rooting for Spence.”

You look at Hotch and Rossi. “He'll be in tomorrow,” you promise.

“Oh!” Rossi’s brows shoot up, and they both laugh heftily. “Okay, then.”

“Take care. Both of you,” Hotch says. “And let me know if he's still…sick.”

You purse your lips as you nod. “Will do.”

Rossi starts backing up, wagging his finger at you as he does. “You two have fun now. But not too much fun.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks, Gramps.”

“Hey. Respect your elders.”

Hotch laughs again. “Have a good night.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder as they both turn to leave. You open your door, stepping inside as you wave your goodbyes.

~

“Spence?” You peek your head past the door, looking around the living room to find him absent. “Baby, I'm home.”

When you close the door behind you, you're hit with it. His scent is everywhere. It's like he decided to rub his body all over every square inch of the house. If you weren't hot before, you definitely are now.

You press your thighs together, placing a hand on the wall to support you as you try to focus. How were you supposed to win if he has scented the whole house? You know he did it on purpose, too. He did this last time, when you actually stayed home. You didn't leave the bed for two days. (When you did leave, it was only because you got called in for a case.)

It's bad when you get to the bedroom. The door is closed, and you can smell it leaking out of the crack under the door. You think maybe you'll hold your breath when you get inside, but it seems highly illogical, so you don't.

As you push the door open, you're almost dizzy with the scent. “Oh, my,” you mutter, your eyes finding a lump in the bed surrounded by clothes and blankets. “It's hot in here. You should really open a window.”

Spencer sits up. His chest is bare, so are his legs, and you assume the rest of him. His hair is a tousled mess on his head. He looks almost precious like this.

“You're late,” he states plainly. He looks more grieved than he does upset.

“Sorry, baby. Got caught up talking.” You walk past him to get to the window, cracking it open to let some fresh air into the room before you lose. You turn to him, your hands on your hips as you smile. “Are you hungry? Been wanting to cook all day, for some reason.”

He shakes his head. He almost looks tired. His face is pinkish. “I'm not hungry.”

“No?” You lean against the side of the bed, facing him with a tilted head. “What's wrong? You look upset.”

He shakes his head weakly. “I'm not upset. I'm just… I want…” His voice is slightly slurred.

You bend down to him, so close that you can smell every little thing on him. Conditioner in his hair, lotion and sweat on his skin, you. He's almost shaking when your faces are so close that he thinks you'll kiss him.

“You look like you're burning up,” you mutter, keeping your breath shallow. “You sure you're okay?”

He wishes you would touch him. Any touch. It didn't even have to be a kiss. You could put the back of your hand on his forehead. You could brush your knuckles over his cheek. Anything.

You'd have to admit, you're wanting the same thing. But, no. He started it. You're not going to finish it.

“Please.”

Oh, what music.

You raise a brow, tilting your head to the other side. “What's that?”

“I'm sorry. I was wrong.”

You contain your grin. You play dumb, looking over his face and humming. “About what, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head. “I didn't last longer. I tried, but I couldn't.”

“That’s not true,” You see him start to lean forward. You pull back, gutting gently. “You didn't text me. Not once. You didn't call anyone. I haven't heard a thing.”

He almost whines. “Are you angry with me?”

“Angry?” you smile. “Of course not . That was the challenge. I can't be mad just because you tried to win.”

You linger there a moment, but it's getting to be too much. You straighten your spine slowly. You almost mess up as you reach your hand up to stroke his cheek, stopping halfway just to drop it back to your side. You sigh and walk away.

“How were you,” you wonder, “while I was gone?”

“Please. It hurts.”

He sounds so sad, you almost give in just because. You don't want him hurting. But you have a point to prove. Besides, the longer you wait it out, the better he'll be by the time you're done with him.

So you continue. “What hurts?” You slip your shoes off by the door, stretching your arms over your head with a long sigh.

“Everything hurts.” He can't think straight. It's becoming too much.

“Poor baby,” you mutter.

He needs you to do something, but he doesn't want to accept defeat. It's not fully a conscious decision. Spencer has always had trouble asking for help. It's what happens when you know everything. It's just more fun for him when he doesn't feel like he's burning from the inside out.

“I wasn't good,” he tries. “I tried to fix it on my own, but I couldn't. I knew I couldn't, and I tried anyway.”

You hum. “That's okay. What else were you going to do? Wait for me?”

“I'm supposed to.”

You shrug. “You are supposed to.” You walk to the edge of the bed, tilting your head at him. “But you didn't.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving closer. He holds his hands out, palms up to offer them to you.

“I'm not falling for that, Spencer. If you want me to help, you know how to do that.” Any second now. “Don't you?”

Spencer just stares at you for a second, his face seemingly pained with his need. He sits up on his knees, the blankets falling away from him as he cradles your face in the palms of his hands.

Your lashes flutter at the feeling of his soft hands on your cheeks, but you continue to watch him, your face blank.

He gives in. “Please.”

You cup his elbow with your hand. With a sigh, Spencer leans in and captures your mouth in his. It's hot and rough, full of a raw desire for the other.

He's insistent in the way he kisses you. If he hadn't been so needy before, you'd think he was making you concede. His hand cups the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he brings you flush against his body.

You let him move you for now, setting your arms over his shoulders as you run your fingers through his hair.

When you grasp a handful of his soft, brown locks, he whimpers when you pull it back. You have to fight the urge to clench your teeth. “Shh, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips. You keep him firmly in place, kissing his forehead and his nose and his lips. “You weren't very good today, were you?”

You feel his body tense against you. “You are angry.”

You shake your head, rutting gently. “I'm not angry with you.” You let go of his hair to glide your fingertips along his hairline. “I'm just disappointed.”

He tugs at the hem of your shirt. “That's not better.”

You smile. “It's not, is it?” You pinch his chin in your hand, brushing your fingers along the length of his neck. “But don't worry, baby, we're gonna fix that together, okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

You kiss him quickly before stepping out of his grasp. “Lie back.” Spencer sits back on the bed, awaiting you with pleading eyes. You smile. “I'm gonna go get ready for you. When I come back, I want you to be right there. Okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Good.”

~

When you return, Spencer is laying back against the headboard like he's dying of the plague. You lean your bare body against the doorframe, sighing gently as you watch him.

You gently knock on the wall, bidding his eyes open as he turns his head to you. His breath hitches, catching again as he sits up some more.

Slowly, you make your way to the bed, climbing on top of the sheets and crawling over to him. Your lips meet as you straddle his waist, hovering over him as you relish in the closeness.

With a feather light touch, you reach down to take his cock in your hand. He winces, inhaling sharply through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut. You pull back to look at it, swollen and weeping. It looks painful, and you suspect it is. “Oh,” you sigh lightly. “Look at what you did to yourself, baby. How will I be able to do anything with this? You're already ready to burst.”

He whines. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” He gasps woefully when your thumb brushes the head. “Can you fix it?”

You do not envy him. Your clit is aching, your nipples are peaked, and you'll start sweating any moment now—but Spencer is suffering. He really needs this, and you're about to be cruel.

Oh, well. At least he'll learn a lesson.

You sigh, letting go of him. “I have an idea. But I need to be warmed up first, yeah?”

You kiss him before throwing your leg from over his body. He sits up, switching spots with you to let you sit against the headboard, your legs spread wide. You've been needing this all day, but you can't admit to that yet. At least Spencer had the whole house, filled with your scent in every fiber of fabric or every splinter of wood. You've been trapped at the office with nothing but his desk too far away from you to keep you company.

Spencer scurries to the spot between your legs. He might as well be salivating with how excited he is to be there. He slips his arms underneath your thighs, scooping them up and pulling you in close. Before he does anything, he looks up at you. “May I?”

He asks so sweetly. It'd be cruel not to oblige.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

Spencer's mouth is on you in a second, his hot tongue laving through your folds and his lips suckling on your clit. He's eager and desperate to taste you, to run his mouth over your cunt and cover himself in you.

You moan as you card your fingers through his hair, bucking your hips up into his mouth every time he moans right back. He eats you out like you're a feast fit for a king, licking and sucking and slurping you up.

“Oh, fuck. That's it, baby. Keep going.” You huff, savoring each flick of his tongue. “Good. Good boy.”

He makes a dreadful sound, so filled with pleasure that slick and spit seep from you like sap. You grip his hair tight, encouraging him with grinding hips and deep moans and fluttering folds. “C’mon, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” He plunges his tongue inside of you, moaning into your dripping cunt.

He's always been very eager to do this, to taste you and to lick you whole. He's always been very good at this. You're on the verge already—all the pent of desire between the two of you makes it all the worse.

When you cum, he's all over you. His tongue and his lips devour you. Your thighs clamp around his head so tight, you think that you'll crush his skull. Not that he'll mind much. He's always enjoyed being in this position—you think he'd consider it a wonderful death.

The pleasure rushes through your body and makes you tremble as you arch your back and soak in the feeling of it all. And when the trembling has eased, you let out a heavy sigh and guide Spencer away before he works toward a second or fifth orgasm. He will, and he has.

“Good‎. Good job, baby,” you smile drunkenly, carding your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you. His face is pink, almost darker. His chin and nose glisten with your arousal. You kiss it from his face.

He stares at you like your approval is going to make him cum all on its own. His lashes are fluttering, and he looks like he's barely holding on to reality.

You kiss his forehead to bring him back again. “Now lie back, and let me take a look.”

Spencer does as he's told. He sits up and trades places with you once again. As he lays against the pillows, you shuffle through clothes and blankets to half-straddle his legs.

He's gotten worse (as you supposed he would). When you touch his aching cock, he winces again. “Ah!” he exclaims, like you'd just hit him in the gut.

You shush him gently, using your fingertips to brush over the length of him. His arousal is pooling at the tip of his weeping cock. You do not envy him right now. You do pity him.

Though not enough to give him what he wants.

You drag your fingertips gently along his cock, grazing your thumb along the head and watching his belly tense and un-tense. You lean down, pressing your lips to his chest, and then to his belly, and then to his lower belly.

He whines when your breath fans over his erection, even worse when your lips kiss the base of his cock, and then come back up to kiss the head.

He's muttering little pleas under his breath, but he's too unfocused to form any actual sentences. You scarcely lick and suck on him, not nearly enough to get him off, but enough to elicit desperate moans and whimpers from your poor boy.

Your fingers curl around him, teasing the veins running underneath his cock or gliding gently over his balls. He's trembling, he needs you so bad.

You really should just put him out of his misery, but you find it too sweet right now. You clench your thighs and bite your lip. You bring your own free hand to your clit and rub inefficient circles over the bundle of nerves. It won't be enough right now to help you, but it sure does drive him crazy.

Spencer can't keep up with his own breath. He struggles to keep it steady when you touch him like you do. Every time you think he'll cum, you grip the base of his cock until that malcontent fills his eyes, and then you start again. You've done it a lot thus far, he's so close to the edge that everything you do nearly sets him off.

You stroke his length with a lazy, limp hand as you look down on him. “How's that? How do you feel, honey?”

Sweat sticks to his forehead, his neck—he's covered in it. His eyes are dazed. You're not entirely sure he's present right now. He's definitely not here enough to string together a coherent sentence on the first try.

“Please,” he whines. “I need it. Need you.”

There's no emphasis, or perhaps the whole thing is an emphasis. He's too far gone for you to tell.

“Yeah?” You try to catch his line of sight. His eyes find you and stick to your face, but you can tell it's not quite processing fully. “That's not what it felt like today.” You shake your head, tutting as you keep stroking, slowly building your pace. “You said you could last without me. Now look at you: you can't even make a full sentence.”

You grip the base of his cock as you feel him beginning to buck into your hand. He groans, clenching his teeth and slamming his eyes shut. “‘M sorry. I'm s-sorry.”

“You are?” You sweep the pad of your thumb over the slit in his tip. “Sorry about what?”

He sits up on his elbows. “What I said. I was wrong,” he insists.

You tilt your head just as you flick your wrist. You watch the muscles in his neck tense. “What were you wrong about, Dr. Reid?”

His hand reaches out to hold your side, grasping without grabbing you. “P-Please.”

You lean forward, pulling his face close to yours as you continue to stroke your fingertips along the underside of his cock. “No. You don't get anything from me until you say it.”

His breath is entirely unsteady. He struggles to keep up as he makes these pitiful sounds. “Omegas don't have more discipline,” he huffs out, his words coming in a rush in an attempt to get them out. “I was wrong. I would-wouldn't last longer than you. I didn't. I lost, I was wrong.”

His hair sticks to his forehead. He looks like he might start crying.

“Good,” you smile, brushing the hair from his face and pressing a kiss to his temple. His nose nuzzles in the crook of your neck, his lips stick to your own damp skin. “Good boy. So good for me.” He whines lightly, worse when you rub his tip. “I just need you to do one more thing for me now, okay? Can you do that?”

He looks at you with glossy eyes. “Yes. Anything.”

You smile gently, your face unchanging as you simply say, “Apologize.”

His brows pull together. A tear rolls down the side of his face. “I did.”

You shake your head. “No,” you squeeze his base, “you said you're sorry, and that you were wrong.” He sighs shakily. “I want an apology. A good one. What did you do? Why did you do it? Why won't you be doing it again?”

He whimpers when you tickle his balls with your fingertips, pulling your hand away to watch his face scrunch up discontentedly before continuing again.

“C’mon, baby,” you encourage.

“I-I’m sorry for saying I don't n-need you,” he stammers. “I do. I thought I knew everything, but I don't. And-and–”

You raise your brows. “And what, Spencer?”

“And I won't do it again because–” His words are interrupted by a moan when you tug on his cock.

“Because what, huh?”

He places his hand on your cheek, gazing up at you with teary eyes and a face red as cherries. “Because I need you. Because I love you. Please, I love you.”

Your hand stops entirely, looking upon him with softened eyes and a gentle face. You bend down to whisper against his lips. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he breathes. “Fuck, I love you.”

You set a hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb over the reddened skin and easing hair from his face. His face is so warm, he's burning beneath your palm. “I love you, too, Spencer,” you smile. He hums into your mouth as you kiss him, leaning into you and your warmth. He missed you so much.

“See?” You cup his neck in your hands, cradling him in your palms as you look over him. “That wasn't so hard, now was it?” You kiss him again, but he's shaking beneath you. You hover above him, straddling his lap and placing a hand on his chest.

“You ready?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, grabbing at your sides and letting his hands feel your hot skin. “Yes, please.” He starts to ramble again.

“Shh. It's okay, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips.

You line his cock with your pussy, almost as needy as him as you anticipate the feeling. You sink down on him, and you're so dreadfully wet and aching that he slips right in with ease.

You both moan, long and deep sounds that reverberate in your chests. Your eyes fall shut, your folds flutter around him, your mouth parts. A gentle curse falls from your lips, and Spencer is glad he isn't the only one who needed this so bad.

He sits deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cock. He's so hard, you can feel him pulsing inside of you. His hands take hold of your waist and squeeze so hard that you think you'll bruise. You clench around him and try to keep your breath steady.

He really needs you to stay focused right now, you know it. You set your hands on his belly, holding his close as you slowly begin to grind yourself in him.

He really isn't going to last long. You've been teasing him for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, pulling him to the edge just to ease it and watch him suffer. You'll be surprised if he holds out the first minute.

“That’s it, baby,” you sigh, your voice a little pitchy with your own pleasure. He grasps your hips and guides you a bit as you roll your hips steadily atop him. Your gentleness only lasts a moment. In the next, you're grinding atop him like you’re the one who's been trapped in the house all day begging for an Alpha to come help you.

Your sounds mix with his, almost as pitiful as you both whine and moan, blinded by the pleasure finally being awarded to you.

Spencer's head tosses back into the pillows. He clenches his jaw and tries to stifle his moan as he holds your hips down on top of him. You grip his shoulders, gasping as he cums inside of you. He moans your name, grabbing at flesh like he's kneading dough.

You shush him gently, easing your pace just enough to let him come down. Once his breaths settle down, you kiss him as you start again.

If there's one thing you love about this time of the month, it's how fast Spencer recovers. He can go for rounds and rounds at a time before he needs to rest.

You pick up Spencer's hand, guiding it to your belly as you press his palm into you. “You feel that?” you mutter, adjusting his hand. “That's you. That's you inside me. You're so—Ah!—so fucking deep, baby. Making me feel so good.”

He huffs, thrusting up into you suddenly. He laughs a little when he feels the way it moves, hears the way you moan. “It's perfect. You're perfect,” he rambles. He buries his head in the pillows.

When his dull nails dig into your skin again, you take his hands and pin his wrists above his head. He gasps and moans as you fuck him, riding him with all the vigor you have.

“You like that?” you huff, your control slipping with every roll of your hips. “This feel better?”

“Yes!” He's a mess, laying there and letting you ride him. “Yes, so much better.”

You can feel some of his cum leaking out of you, joining your arousal and making the schelp! of your thrusts easy. It soaks your thighs and his waist, creating this loud smacking sound that fills the bedroom.

Holding both his wrists in one hand isn't easy but it's manageable as you bring your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles that immediately spur you on.

“Fuck,” you huff. “Spence, I'm gonna cum.” He answers you by thrusting his hips up some more, meeting your thighs as you come down.

Your legs shake as you cum, your cunt fluttering and gushing around him. One of your hands slips under his head to pull at his hair, enjoying the way he gasps. You attach your mouth to his throat, biting and sucking and licking.

It's like that for a while. It gets really wet and really loud. You ride Spencer for a while, holding him and kissing him and biting him while you both keep coming undone, moaning and gasping each other's names and grabbing at limbs to keep you steady.

Spencer is trembling beneath you. He's a complete mess, grabbing at your thighs and bucking his hips up to meet yours. His hair is all over his face, you keep having to brush it away. You praise him with every roll of your hips, grinding down on him and telling him how good he's doing. He whimpers every time you do.

The dynamics are always so different during heats like this. Spencer requires your lead, and you enjoy taking it. But when things are normal, when the need isn't so high, it's not so desperate.

That's not what this is. It's a raw feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and demands attention as you hold Spencer down by his throat and sink your teeth into his flesh as you shudder around him in the middle of another orgasm (which makes him lose it and cum inside of you again).

You look at him as you settle again, catching your breath as you move slowly on top of him. His eyes are glossy, he's beet red. He looks so precious. His hand reaches up to cup your breasts, grazing the pad of his thumb over your nipple.

“Better?” you breathe. “Does that feel better, honey?”

He nods, not fully present. “Yes.”

“Good. That's good.” You sigh, bending down to kiss him gently. “Can you do something for me, love?”

“Anything.”

You brace yourself, pulling yourself up from his lap as he slips out of you. He whines, bucking his hips up to meet you again. “Shh. It's okay.”

You're shaky as you sit down, reaching over to grab his cock. It looks better, but he's still hard. He's got a couple loads left in him. If you weren't in a rut, you don't know how you would be able to keep up.

“Go ahead and get on top of me, okay?” Your voice has lost some of its intensity, replaced with breathless gentleness. At this point, you're just trying to make sure Spencer is okay, and you're losing some of your energy to guide him on top.

You lean into the plush pillows, keeping your hips up as he sits up to follow. Spencer grabs your hips gently, guiding himself inside of you once again as he presses his chest into your back.

You groan into the pillow when he thrusts, reaching one hand to card through his hair and setting the other palm up for him to hold. Spencer buries his face into your neck, kissing you needily as one of his hands plays with your breast. “Do whatever you want, I'm okay,” you whisper, clenching around him. The rock of his hips becomes insistent. He thrusts into you in quick movements, though not as rough in fear of hurting you. 

“It's okay, baby,” you breathe again. He whines, squeezing your hand a little tighter. He listens anyway, adjusting his pace as his hips snap into yours, reaching deep and groaning with every thrust. You moan, pressing your face into the pillow. “Good, just like that.”

Spencer lets go, rocking back and forth and moaning and grabbing. He holds you carefully as he fucks you recklessly, enjoying the shudder and the swell of his body when he cums.

His fingers find your clit, and he rubs at it as he continues to thrust. He rubs tight circles, coaxing the frayed nerves with every intention of making you feel as good as he does. He kisses the back of your neck, he grinds his hips deep inside of you.

You hear the way his breath starts to rise again, the way his hips stutter once more. You grip his hair a little tighter, clenching around him and huffing when your own edge starts nipping at you.

“Baby,” he whines. “M’so close. Almost there.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your voice is a whisper muffled by the pillows. “C’mon, c’mon. I got you, c’mon.”

He flicks his wrist, and you gasp. Everything is covered in a white haze as you clench and gush around him. Spencer moans weakly, burying himself deep inside, pushing forward against you just to get closer. With a final thrust, he spills inside of you with the most dreadful sound, filling you to the brim with the warmth of his cum.

Spencer wraps his arms around your midsection, keeping you close to him and sticking together with sweat and warmth.

He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. He's still buried inside of you, refusing to pull out just yet as he lays there, catching his breath. You lay there, resting against the bed and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. You don't know how many times he came, but you do know that if you weren't so dedicated to your medications, there is no earthly way you would come out of this without being bred.

It takes a while for Spencer to fully come back around. By the way his breath slows and his arms hold you, you'd say he'd fallen asleep for a moment. You don't blame him, you've dazed out a couple times as well.

When he comes to, he presses his lips to your skin. “Baby?” he mumbles, slipping out of you on the way to look at your face. Your eyes are closed, and you look tired. “Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling a little when you feel the way some of the stickiness is spilling out of you. “Mhm,” you hum lazily. You turn over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his chest. He's forced to move his arms to sit over your shoulders. He doesn't mind.

“I missed you today, Spence,” you whisper. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna die.”

He hums, smiling a bit. He kisses your forehead, petting you gently. It takes a long time for him to move, to bear to pull away from you just to stand and go to the bathroom. He comes back with a cloth that he uses so carefully to clean the both of you up with. You're absolutely stuffed.

You drape an arm over your eyes, sighing heavily. “Next time this happens, we stay inside.”

“Agreed.”

You stuck your pinky out, and he interlocks his with a smile. He goes back to the bathroom to rinse off the cloth.

You sit up, leaning into Spencer when he comes back to the bedroom, sitting next to you with an arm around your waist. He really must have missed you because he buries his face in the crook of your neck and stays there.

After a while, you hear his stomach growl. It's this deep, monstrous sound that pulls you away from him.

You look at him expectantly, standing up and taking his face in your hands. “When was the last time you ate?” Spencer blushes, glancing away from you. You sigh, though not unkindly. “You haven't eaten today.”

He swallows thickly. “I was focused on other things.”

You chuckle lightly, kissing his forehead. “C’mon. Let's get you fed.”

You go to pull him with you, but he squeezes your hand. You return to his grasp. “I can do it.” His arms wrap around you and hold you tight so you can't escape.

“Hush,” you tap his nose. “I'll cook, we'll eat.”

He considers this for a moment. “Can we have sex after?”

You laugh, guiding his face to your chest as you tuck your chin over his head. You stroke his back. “You're so needy,” you laugh giddily.

He hums. “Sorry.”

A sour feeling threatens to curl in your belly. You pull him away to look at his face. He looks a little sad. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, soft but firm. “Nothing.”

His brows furrow slightly. “But you said–”

“I wasn't upset with you. I was just playing it out for you.” You stroke your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could never be upset with your Spencer.

He pouts now. You can't help but giggle at the way he looks, lips pursed and brows furrowed. He's silly, you think. “That was mean.”

You shrug. “You like when I'm mean to you.”

“I know.”

You pull him in and kiss him again. He's insistent on pulling close, always insistent. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

His voice is so small, so gentle. You taste his love on his tongue. “I love you, too.”

He brings you back in, and you slot your lips along his neck. He tilts his chin up to give you space. You kiss and suck at his skin, knocking his chin up some more as you find a nice spot beneath his ear.

Spencer hums when you bite him, sinking teeth into flesh to lay claim to him once again. His hands tighten around your waist. You feel his tired length bob against your thigh. He's yours. He'll always be yours.

When you kiss it better, Spencer dips his lips to your neck to do the same.

“Now let's go eat,” you smile, running your hands through his hair affectionately. You make him stand, tucking yourself into his side. You both need the support. “I'll make you whatever you want.”

He sounds almost pleading when he asks you. “And then sex?”

You chuckle heftily. “Of course we're gonna sex again.” He smiles excitedly.

~

You both return to work the day after the next day. You had to call off when you woke up with Spencer's head between your legs. You'd both mentally prepared yourselves in the car beforehand for the stares you were going to get from the team.

You walk inside next to Spencer, standing so close to him that it's no wonder they all immediately smirked at you. Even worse, Morgan is sitting on your desk.

“Nice outfit,” Emily points out, gesturing to Spencer in his purple turtleneck. He had to hide his blush, and you know he wished he could hide it in your neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. She glances at you, raising her brows expectantly. When you gave her a very small, very brief thumbs up by your side, she made a little “yes” as she spun back around to her desk. She sticks her hand out to JJ, who grumbles as she opens her wallet.

“You're lookin’ good kid. Guess you're all healed up now?” Morgan quips. When Spencer comes to his desk, which sits right across from you, the man whistles. “You're smellin’ ‎good.”

Yes. Spencer smells like you. He smells exceedingly like you. You'd spent a full day wrapped up in each other, and you'd bitten him more times than you can count. (Spencer could count. He'd say twelve times. It was eleven, but you bit him before you left the house. He's not at all upset by it.)

“I see the brains and the brawns have returned.” Rossi walks in with a newspaper under his arm, and Penelope at his side.

You roll your eyes, shooing Morgan away so you can sit down. Penelope shuffles up to you and bends down to whisper in your ear. “Did one of you cry?”

You purse your lips, considering for a moment before nodding with a stifled grin. “Yes! I was right,” she whispers.

“How was your fever?” Morgan nudges Spencer, whose mouth opens and shuts in a struggle to respond. He glances at you for help.

“Spence, how many files do you have on your desk?”

Without looking down, he answers. “Thirty-one.”

“Wow! And I have…” You look down.

“Forty-four.” Christ.

“Forty-four,” you repeat. “So I think we should get to work, huh?” Spencer nods enthusiastically.

Morgan chuckles, holding his hands up in defense as he backs away. “Okay, I get it. You get to work, little lovebirds.”

“Glad to have you back.” Penelope hugs Spencer. A look flashes across her face when she catches a whiff of his hair. She looks at you, covers her grin, and then rushes to join Derek.

Everyone decides to leave you alone. You've started turning on your computer when Spencer stands and reaches across your desk. He picks up eight of your files and sits back down with them added to his stack. When you go to reach for a couple to even it out, he lightly smacks your hand without even looking.

You roll your eyes, smiling at your screen as you tap in your password.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake Tag yourself here...

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

This is Her Trying

sum: she sold out every value she holds dear, even a person. That happens to be you. So, one night after Voit’s little game, she speeds to your apartment in hopes you’ll still want her.

(is there a lot of music references? Yes.)

WARNING: BIG ANGSTY, smoking, some fluff?

Emily saw this coming, with the way everything was happening. The BAU hadn’t taken up a case they couldn’t solve, it just seems that now they’ve met their match. Emily didn’t want it to be true, no, she just couldn’t accept that. She was too prideful to give up.

That also meant doing everything in her power to solve this case, even if it meant pushing the boundaries of the law. She hated that she even considered doing it, so why do it at all? That was a question she asked herself often. Sometimes she sat in her chair wondering if Hotch would be disappointed in her. Or if he would tell her that she ‘needn’t worry’ even though she should.

In the midst of all this ‘Gold Star’ business happening, she was also pushing you away. Not noticing the hurt facial expression you made at her clearly not wanting your presence. She pushed you away so much that she had forgotten how much peace you’d bring her. Even Rossi had warned her to go home but she never did listen, she did what she thought was best. But sometimes she couldn’t think for herself.

—

“Shouldn’t you head home to see the Mrs?” Rossi asked, driving them back after Emily had gotten arrested. The truth was, she wanted to go home, she was just too scared that you too would be disappointed in her, and she’d rather not have the person she loved the most think ill of her. “She knows I’m out, it’s fine..” The silver-haired woman grumbled, picking at her thumb nail again. Someday she’d get over the whole thumb thing but now was not the time. All that she was focused on was Brian Garrity being on the top of her list to be killed off if she ever did spiral into madness; which she was already on the brink of.

Dave looked at her with this face, it was his ‘I know you better than you think, please don’t lie to me right now’ face. Emily huffed, groaning as she flopped her head into her hands. “It’s been almost a week and a half, Emily. A hello or hug would suffice” He tutted, even after all these years he still had to teach her fatherly advice.

“She’ll survive, Dave, she’s not going anywhere” Emily seethed, her emotions slightly breaking loose, the Italian took note of her behavior. As he pulled back into the parking lot, he stopped the engine, turning to look at her with a soft expression.

“If I’ve learned anything from my marriages is, never make them wait for you. Because the hardest feeling is choosing whether to wait or give up” He says, exiting the car first to let Emily think.

—

The Unit Chief sat on the rooftop again, the cigarette she was smoking, balanced between her fingers. She only smoked when she was really stressed, that seemed to be almost every day now. You had told her to stop smoking but, old habits die hard.

Ever since that call she had about being on restricted duty she felt like she was completely under the water, she couldn’t breathe. The feeling on being dragged down over and over again was starting to get to her. This definitely wasn’t her first rodeo but it was starting to feel like her last. She kept telling herself to keep pushing and they’d solve this but maybe, for once, they’ve gotten a case they won’t figure out.

The BAU was crumbling around them, the public was already trampling on the name. But if they didn’t figure this out, what was the point of anything? What was the point of all this work if she couldn’t even save herself?

How could she protect her team when her choices were the ones hurting them? She’d been dying inside since Bailey’s death. She couldn’t give up now, she had to figure this out so he didn’t die in vain. But she wanted to give up, it was so much easier to lay down and die.

This isn’t how she imagined she’d end up. A broken marriage, at least she thought so, a broken team, a broken case, everything was tumbling down and she didn’t have the energy to build them back up anymore. She always wondered how some people could die with so much happiness accepting that they didn’t do everything they wanted to. That was one of the qualities that made you fall for her.

She didn’t stop till she got what she wanted. That’s how you agreed to go on one date with her. She was insistent that she was the one for you. At first you didn’t want to, not wanting to be with someone so ambitious since it could end badly, later she showed you that you were the only one she wanted.

Letting out a shaking breath, Emily looked below, the who-ing of the owls seemed to be her only company that night. The stars were shining above her, she was jealous of them. How could they live so peacefully without worry. They were taunting her with their beauty.

Almost like the first time you and her met. She smiled at the memory, her time of youth escaped her but she never seemed to forget it.

~~

You were one of Garcia‘s friends, she met you during one of her baking lessons, and got to know you during one of her cooking lessons. You were skilled in both, your nimble fingers kneading the dough, your hands holding the sharp knife as you made precise cuts on the vegetables.

Emily could’ve never been prepared for the day you’d given Penelope a visit at work. She practically choked on her coffee the moment you walked in. You were stunning, your eyes soft like the morning rain, your face free from blemishes and impurities, even your hands looked extremely agile. Your presence alone cast an ethereal radiance around the room. “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

Your brow arched, signaling her to introduce herself, Emily quickly stumbled to her feet with a goofy smile. She was enchanted by your shining grin. Internally, she was panicking so bad she couldn’t even think about what comes out of her mouth next, she was too busy staring at your tits.

“Prentits, Emily” she said a little too confidently, she slapped a hand over her mouth as Morgan barrel rolled on the floor in laughter. Rossi, JJ, and Penelope were snickering in the background. Hotch and Reid stood with shocked expressions, for once, Aaron had cracked a smile.

”I’m sorry! I meant Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you as well” her voice got more silent with each word, the red hue over taking her face. You laughed, “it’s okay, Emily,” you leaned into her ear, “but next time just ask to look at them.”

~~

Emily snorted to herself, still looking into the dark nothingness below her. A soft chuckle escaped her, even the darkness seemed more peaceful than whatever she had going on. In those few minutes that she had stared into the oblivion, she realized, it wasn’t too late to fix things. At least with you anyway, she just hoped that you’d still want her after everything she had put you through.

The guilt of leaving you alone for so long clawed at her. As she now hurried down the halls, she thought of you. That smile that could make her melt, the laugh that could infect anybody, and those arms that held her close when no one understood her.

Even in the car, the first thing that played was your favorite song. She slammed her fist against the console, the pain was agonizing but that was the least of her problems. Her fingers gripped around the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white and cramped. As she speeded home, she realized that she dearly missed your lips. Your soft, delicate, and loving lips. Even the first time the both of you had said you loved each other, she knew that you were gonna kiss her in a way that was gonna screw her up forever.

At the door of your shared house, she felt a sinking feeling in her chest, her hands turned clammy. It was like she was sent back to when she was ask you out on a date again. Except this time she was asking for your forgiveness.

She brought out her house keys, unlocked the door, and stepped in. The inside was still dimly lit so she knew you were awake, probably staying up late again. “Baby? I’m home!” Emily called out, shutting the door behind her, making sure to lock it before venturing deeper into the home. She heard shuffling from upstairs, it stopped for a moment before the sound of your footsteps made their way down. She was nervous, the smell of smoke on her clothes. It stood out from the scent of the rest of the house.

It smelt of you and your soft smelling vanilla perfume. You smiled seeing her, though the emotions in you remained conflicted. “Em, you’re home, I thought you were gonna be working late again” You chuckled lightly, nothing was funny. She messed up and you knew it, she knew it. So, why couldn’t you just go ahead and scream your feelings out. That’s what you wanted to do days ago, but not now that you see her face…you don’t feel so angry anymore.

“No, I needed to come home. I needed to see you, I’m-” Emily abruptly stopped her sentence to swallow the sound of her breaking voice, she never minded being emotional in front of you. Now, she couldn’t bear to cry in front of you. She felt she didn’t deserve to, you’re the victim here, after all. It was selfish to take that away from you. She was selfish. That’s all she had been for weeks now.

“I’m going insane, y/n. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I’m not alright.” She admitted it, she was scared and confused. She felt like some little kid in the corner after doing something bad and not knowing it was. She didn’t know how to cope with any of this. It was too big to do alone. She couldn’t ask you to help her, not when she’s already taken so much from you.

As Emily’s eyes began to sting, the tears pooling. Yet, she didn’t let them fall. She couldn’t, it wasn’t right. “You smell like smoke again, what happened this time?” You asked, brushing past her and walking into the kitchen. You fixed Emily a glass of cold water, “I messed up some case, I’m on restricted duty. The BAU is Dave’s now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” She said through a shaky sigh, leaning on the kitchen island, the marble cold to the touch. You were slightly shocked that she would actually tell you, most of the time she wouldn’t tell you anything. You understood that even knowing a little bit could endanger you both so you never pressed. “Have you eaten?”

Emily crossed her arms, sniffling and looking at her with a blank expression. You knew that look, she was trying to profile you. “Emily, if you’re trying to profile me, it’s not gonna work.” You said sternly, getting the ingredients out for beef and broccoli, one of her favorites.

“Okay, I’m sorry…” she replied, biting her lip. “No, I haven’t” she added after a moment of silence. You smiled to yourself, “Good, I haven’t had dinner yet”

The silence was oddly comfortable, it gave Emily a sense of false comfort. She watched you cook as she idly played with her fingers. You could’ve called it a night ages ago and gone to bed not talking to her at all. Instead, you chose to stay and make food. You always stayed silent when you were mad, you came from a home with screaming being the norm. You hated yelling at someone out of anger, you hated it with your heart and soul. Even now if someone yells at you in anger, the tears will pool and won’t stop streaming down your face. Your breathing turns shallow and the tightness in your chest the least of your concerns.

As you finished cooking the food, the steam drifted into the air, eventually filling up the whole kitchen. Both of you quickly ate the food, silently glancing at each ofher when the other ‘wasn’t’ looking. Emily didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t want to say anything.

The older woman went upstairs to change, and hopefully get a shower. It had been a few days since she’s had a good shower. One where she felt relaxed and fresh. You washed the dishes, humming to yourself as you thought about the situiation you were in. You wanted so badly to be angry with her but, there was something that kept you from feeling anything about what was happening. Your face would contort into an expression of anger but you didn’t feel it.

You completed the rest of the cleaning and headed upstairs, maybe you’d be able to get a good sleep tonight. You always slept best with Emily in bed with you, she just gave you a sense of comfort that no one else could give you.

Already in some pjs, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. With a heavy sigh, you pulled your body up to sit on the counter. You had grabbed your phone, scrolling on social media as you flossed with a floss pick. You heard the shower stop but you didn’t look up, too interested in a News article you read. It was an article about ‘Gold Star’. A case Emily was on, he was clearly dangerous and had already killed the spouse of one of his latest victims who was also a cop. That must’ve been why she’s been down at the office, at least, that’s what you heard from Pen.

“Damn it…” Emily muttered, pulling a silk robe over her thin pjs. Her hair was soaking wet, and her face free of makeup, she was looking for something. “Have you seen my towel?” She asked, looking at the rack then back inside the shower. You looked down and saw you were sitting on it, lifting a thigh, you grabbed it and handed it to her.

She smiled at you, drying her silver locks with the towel. Walking over to the sink, she began doing her skincare routine. You stared at her, a blank expression on your face, she looked so focused.

You felt the urge to reach out and touch her face when she finished, she looked like a supermodel in this light. I’m any light actually, she was a timeless beauty you couldn’t get enough of. That was when you felt it, the subtle shake of your hands, the sting of your eyes, the flips of your stomach, the drowning feeling, and the way you bit the inside of your cheek.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror before looking over at you with concern, your eyes filled with hurt. She hummed softly, placing a hand on yours, squeezing it as a way to ground you. “I love you, Emily Prentiss…so much that you piss me off,” You said with a hushed tone, as if you’d be scolded for speaking normally.

“I love you more, my precious girl” Emily kissed each of your knuckles, kissing up your arm as she moved to slip herself in between your legs. She eventually got up to kiss your lips, it was quick, a big dose of comfort, for Emily at least.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true…” You insisted, placing your hands on her shoulders, the robe damp from her wet hair. “You left me, for almost a whole week and a half with minimal to no contact, you didn’t even check in with me so I knew you were alive and breathing.”

Emily looked down in shame, she wished to take it all back. “I had to hold on to the hope that you were okay, and I had to get updates from the team, who you never seem to interact with anyway.” You sniffled, toying with her hair. “I know about this whole ‘Gold Star’ thing. The information went public, most of it anyway. So, please tell me what’s bothering you. Please…” You admitted, holding her face so she would look at you.

“Baby, Gold Star…he’s a dangerous man, after what happened with Don Bertoli” she paused, wiping her tears away, refusing to let them fall. She’s been doing that often now, you noticed since she was always comfortable crying around you. “I couldn’t handle you living in fear, I couldn’t handle us living in fear. A part of it was because I was so focused on this case, I hardly thought about anything else other than the case, and you. I know that sounds weird but, every decision I made was made because I thought I could protect you.” She kissed your palm, looking at you with the same adoration and love she had been for years, “If Don, this big muscular man, can’t stop him from killing his wife. How can I stop him?” She sobbed, hugging you close.

“Ever since this case even started, I changed so much. I hate it. I let a serial killer out of his cage to work among profilers like he meant something. I kept a secret from JJ that I shouldn’t have, I ruled over my team like a tyrant instead of working with them. I’m…turning into my mother, just like I thought I would. But the only question I have is…why haven’t you left me yet?” Emily sniffled, tears stains on your sleep attire. You pulled away from the hug and held her head, wiping away the tears with your thumbs.

She looked so fragile, like could crack of you touched her. You rarely saw her break, Emily was always the strong one even in the relationship. She took pride in opening jars, carrying bags, doing any sort of lifting. She also compartmentalized like her life depended on it because it kind of did.

”You are not going to be like your mother, you are my wonderful, amazing, ambitious, smart, hilarious, stunning, annoying wife. You’re my everything in one and I love you for it. I haven’t left you because I made a very important promise to be yours forever. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what. Also, last time I checked, you have the most awesome team. So, if you fess up and take responsibility, they’ll accept you. Remember that you have to earn that trust back but, I know you care.” Emily let out a choked sob, she loved you more than anything. What did she do to deserve you?

“When you were gone that long, I didn’t mind that much. Until you stopped texting me back, I didn’t hear from you for days. I panicked, thinking you were mad and I spiraled, every possible out come in my head played out beside for this” You said, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear.

“What I mean is, I’m not going to tell you that this was okay, what I am gonna tell you is that I love you despite what happened.” You pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, she was hurting, you could tell from her face and mannerisms. You felt like you had spent a whole lifetime memorizing everything about her. Sometimes, it scared you. You knew things about her that even her team didn’t know, for you knew they’d never know.

With that, Emily burst into tears, hugging you tightly, pulling you as close to her as she could.

You’ve missed her dearly, nothing in existence or nonexistent could keep you from loving her. You feel every emotion at once yet none could rival the pure love you felt for the woman. She’s gone through hell & earth to have you. Now, you were ready to do the same for her.

She’s saved you from a maniac serial killer once, the least you could do was be here when you needed her. You knew she’d return the favor, you preferred to have her be alright before returning anything. After all, you taught middle schoolers for a living, you had your moments but thankfully there was never anything much.

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry” She sobbed, her head buried in between the crevice between your neck and shoulder. Her body slotted so perfectly with yours that you were convinced she was made for you. “I forgive you, always”

You felt her arms tighten around you, she sniffled looking up into your eyes. Pressing a kiss to your lips, she played with your hair, twirling it between her fingers.

She didn’t know what was waiting for her in the future, she was unsure of a lot of things. One thing was certain, that you were hers, and she was yours. She’d find a way to cross realities if it meant being with you.

As the night went on, both felt as though they could stay their forever. Intertwined. Sewn together. Forevermore.

—————

UHM. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR A WHILE.

This is a nice appetizer for all the fics I’m about to serve to you guysssss. I hope you enjoyed restricted duty Emily :)

[somber-sapphic]

HEY could you please do a jj and emily x reader sickfic 🫶

Cabin Fever

〖Summary: You're sick and are stuck on a jet.〗

〖Word Count: 1.4k〗

〖Pairing: Jemily x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Criminal Minds is my current obsession so I am perfectly happy to write this. In the future though if people throw in a prompt or two I can probably create a fic that's more suited to what you want :)〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You had started to get sick two days into the case and were incredibly glad that this Unsub had been so easy to catch. With enough cold medicine and tea, you’d been able to stave off the worst of your illness for just long enough to put a killer behind bars. 

Your girlfriends had noticed. The whole team had noticed. Even Garcia had been able to hear your congestion over the phone. You hadn’t really been trying to hide it. You were one of those people who got mushy when you got sick, you wanted to be held and taken care of. 

Had you been home you would have jumped at the opportunity to be coddled but you were working and with work came a more professional relationship with your girlfriends, even if you were sharing a room. But with work came responsibility and all that. 

Now at least you got to go home. You didn't have to look at the faces of dead people or interrogate psychopaths, you could just relax. The box of tissues in front of you was quickly running out with a small pile forming in a plastic bag beside you. Next to the box was a bottle of hand sanitizer, mostly there for Spencer’s peace of mind. The book you were reading had been set aside in favor of an audiobook and headphones, it was just too difficult to focus on the blurry words. 

You’d been given occasional worried looks from the team and Hotch had set a mug of tea down in front of you about an hour ago, but you hadn’t touched it. As nice as the warm liquid would probably feel on your throat you just couldn’t do it. The idea of putting anything into your body made you nervous. It was normal for you when you were sick. Plus, you hated tea.

JJ, noticing that you were getting worse, stood from her spot on the couch beside Emily and walked over to you with a soft warm smile on her face. That was a common expression when she was worried but trying to act like she wasn’t.

“Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asked, slipping into the seat beside you. You glanced over with glassy eyes and offered a tiny smile, desperately wanting to be anywhere but in the air. The pressure on the plane was wreaking hell on your sinuses, your head and face throbbed, and each jolt of turbulence was like a knife in your skin. 

“Don’t feel great.” You admitted, your voice croaky and quiet. The blonde’s face twisted into a look of sympathy, and she reached out to take one of your shaky hands.

“Why don't you go sit with Em? She’s just reading a book; I don’t think she’ll mind some company.” She offered, glancing around at the mess around you. Her crystal blue eyes lingered on the ice-cold mug for an extra second longer than the rest. You could see the gears in her head turning but you weren’t sure where they were going. She knew from experience that you would not be consuming any hot leaf juice.

Emily looked up at the sound of her name, seeming as though she had no awareness of the situation prior. She was deep into a book that seemed to be in Russian which had probably captured her full attention. It wasn’t her best language, so she was taking every opportunity to get better. Mostly to beat Reid. The two apparently had a silent academic challenge thing going.

“Uhhh…” She hesitated, never having been one who really knew how to take care of sick people. The woman had very little experience with being taken care of, so she wasn’t always the best at it. It didn’t matter to you, you wanted her to hold you of course but you really didn’t need anything else.

JJ shot her a look that said, ‘do it or I’ll end you’ and Emily quickly scrambled into a sitting position so that you could take over most of the couch. She opened her arm and beckoned you over, hugging you tight when you crawled into her lap.

You sniffled thickly and a pained moan escaped your lips. Every part of your body ached and lying down seemed only to make it worse. Emily frowned down at you, not entirely sure what to do. JJ had wandered over to the back of the plane, going through the fridge to find something.

The others were all doing their own thing, collectively ignoring you. That was perfect because you really didn’t want attention from them. Especially not the facts. Never before had you been so glad that Reid was asleep.

“What can I do?” Your girlfriend muttered, lowering her voice for your benefit. You shrugged and shuddered, curling up more tightly against her. It didn’t soothe the pain in your muscles, but it temporarily stopped the shivering which made the pain worse.

Emily grabbed the blanket at your feet and pulled it up around you, doing the best that she could not to jostle you too much. She looked back over to JJ who had procured what she wanted and was (thankfully) returning to help.

“Sit up for a second love.” The media liaison coaxed, pulling you up gently with the help of Emily. She produced two small pills and your favorite color Gatorade, suppressing a smile at the amusement on your face. You were surprised that they had it, the only thing that you would drink when you were sick.

With little hesitation you took the pills, wondering why you hadn’t done so earlier. The fever that was currently doing the most damage probably had something to do with it, for some reason, you’d completely forgotten that things like Tylenol existed and had settled for cough medicine instead.

“Now, lay back down for a bit. We land in a few hours, try to get some sleep. I’m going to go work on wrapping some case notes up with Hotch, just take a nap on Em, okay?” She bent forward and kissed your hot dry forehead, mentally noting your temperature. Emily looked mildly alarmed but nodded when you turned to her, signaling that it was okay.

“Do you uh, want me to read? In English of course. It’ll be good to practice some translation.” she asked, patting the book that she had put to the side. You coughed quietly and rested your head in her lap, snuggling close. The worry melted off of her face and she rested one of her hands on the side of your head and began to stroke your cheek.

“If you want. M’just gonna lay here.” You mumbled, grabbing one of her legs to hug. Some part of you worried that she would leave and didn’t quite connect the facts that one she would never do that and two there was literally nowhere she could go.

“Alright. You rest, let me know if you need anything.” You closed your eyes as she picked her book back up and began to read silently, missing the smile from JJ. She’d been watching the exchange from afar, waiting to jump in just in case Emily fumbled it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in the profiler, it was just that she could be so incredibly awkward sometimes and JJ knew that what you really needed right now was someone to hold you. She itched to jump in and lie on your other side but the quicker she got her work done the better it would be when you finally got home.

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked, following JJ’s gaze. The blonde shook herself slightly and looked back down at the papers, sighing softly.

“Yeah. They’ll be okay. It’s probably the flu, I’m not sure if they got a shot this year. It’s been busy.” She breathed, dragging a hand across her face. The boss nodded sharply and returned to the work in front of him, not requiring any further explanation. That was good enough for JJ.

She went back to her work in silence, glancing up every so often to make sure that you and Emily were okay. While you felt like crap and the pressure in your body wasn’t allowing any level of comfort you knew that eventually you would. But for a while, you’d happily let yourself be cared for by these two wonderful women.  

[suckerforcate]

making my first emily request, not read much of it yet bc i'm worried about spoilers and i'm only on season 4 (tbf have fucking blasted through it so far, watching multiple eps a day).

emily/reader, reader is hotch's little sister who isn't part of the bau but works with them occasionally. hotch Does Not Know about her and em. unclear if he even knows she's gay. any other details of it are up to you bestie, i trust you 💚

Segreto Piccolo

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1336

Warning: I think none?

Summary: Emily and you had been dating for a few months and now you're brother had found out (set around season 3 or 4)

A/n: OK, so this is the first time I've ever written for Em. I hope it's okay? Hope it's not too ooc. Would be delighted by a comment or repost!!! <3

■----------------------------------------■

“Come on, babe. He won’t rip your head off.” You nearly whined and gave Emily the best puppy eyes you could manage. You’d been dating her for a few months now, it was all still very fresh, but you really liked her. A lot.

Your brother, Aaron Hotchner, was the Unit Chief of the BAU and sometimes brought you in for cases. You worked as a children’s psychiatrist and had turned out to be very helpful on cases involving children. In any form, as victims, as witnesses and as UnSubs. On one of those cases, you had met Emily Prentiss. Truth be told, she had caught your eye immediately, but it had taken you three more cases to actually ask her out. She was amazing, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. She was smart and quick-witted, an amazing Profiler, adorable with kids and really funny. And after you had started dating you had learned that she loved with all she had. And it was wonderful.

Except for one thing. She was afraid of telling your brother. Emily hadn’t been on the team for long, and now she hooked up with his baby sister? He’d kill her. Or at least that’s what she assumed. She didn’t know Aaron like you did. He could be stoic and serious at work, but he was a sweetheart and a wonderful brother. He loved you and all he wanted was you to be happy. He might need some time adjusting, but he could never be mad for long.

“He’ll kill me, Tesoro. He’s only just warmed up to me.” She grumbled and you knew that was true. Her start on the team had been a bit bumpy. The whole situation was ridiculous. The two of you were cramped in about the smallest room in the whole building. A little storage room. You could feel some sort of utensils press into your spine, and you saw a box of pencils just over Emily’s shoulder. All in all, ridiculous to talk about something like this, at work, while hiding.

“No, he will not, Emily.” You pressed on, your hand still on her hip. Truthfully it didn’t really have anywhere else to go in this cramped space. “It might shock him a bit, but he’ll come around. Please, Em. You know how important Aaron is to me. I want him to know.” You explained what you had explained at least five times before and again gave her puppy dog eyes she rarely could refuse.

You could see her melt under your gaze and just as she wanted to answer the door to the small room opened, and you were faced with your brother’s usual serious expression. His expression didn’t change much, but you could see a subtle twitch of his eyes. His eyes wandered from you to Emily and back to you again. “Office. Both, now.” And he was gone. Emily groaned and closed her eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Em.” You tried to reassure her. You knew he’d probably be more disappointed than anything, cause you hadn’t told him. He didn’t even know you liked women. Emily let her head fall against your shoulder. “We had a nice few months, dolcezza. But I think I’m walking into my own death now.” She really had a hang for drama. Playfully you slapped her shoulder and chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, babe.” You said and took her hand to lead her into your brother's office. No point in hiding it now. Besides, you had the suspicion that Penelope had known right from the start and that meant that at least Derek knew as well. And JJ was perceptive, Spencer on the other hand not so much for a Profiler. But what does it matter?

You led Emily through the bullpen and up the few steps right to Aaron’s office door. It was open, and your brother was already looking at you. No need to knock, you thought. You simply stepped inside, Emily practically needing to be dragged in there behind you. You motioned her to close the door and very reluctantly she let go of your hand to do so.

Aaron got up and rounded his desk, standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets. His features softened visibly. The way they did at work only if you were around. Or if Jack came to visit. “Why didn’t you tell me you like women?” He asked, and you saw a hint of surprise on Emily’s face in the corner of your eye. She didn’t know that he didn’t know. But contrary to what she probably believed now it hadn’t been because you were scared to come out or anything. You simply shrugged.

“I thought I’d tell you if I’ll ever get a girlfriend and then I kind of never did.” You said and looked at him a bit sheepishly. “But now I do.” You said and smiled proudly, which warmed Emily’s heart immediately and calmed her immensely. Aaron even cracked a very small smile. Then he looked at Emily at the small vanished. You grabbed Em’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You’ve been here little more than a year and start dating my sister, Prentiss?” He said and studied Emily. You could say he was profiling her. Emily opened her mouth, no doubt to defend herself. But Aaron gave her not a second. “Remember, I’m your superior. Hurt her, and you’ll fly off this team faster than you can blink.” You had to hide a small giggle. Aaron rarely played protective brother. It was a bit funny to see almost all colour fade from Emily’s face. She interrogated Serial Killers, but your brother was too much.

“Alright, Aaron. Enough of that.” You said and drew his attention back to you. He softened a bit again and pulled you into a rare hug. No words. Just a hug. And that was enough. Then he rounded his desk and sat down again.

“You're invited for dinner on Saturday.” He said right before you were out of his office. It nearly looked comedic, the way everything in Emily’s face fell as soon as she heard him. You quickly closed the office door behind you and grabbed her hands.

Emily wasn’t the relationship type. She hadn’t had a lot of them, and they had never been very long. Or at least that’s what she had told you. She was always afraid of somehow fucking it up. You squeezed her hands until she was looking at you.

“It’ll be fine. He didn’t rip your head off now, he won’t on Saturday. And Jack will love you, which is basically the way to Aaron’s heart.” It did little to calm the brunette. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly.

“What do I wear? How do I act? Do I buy him something? Wine? I’ve never done this before, dolcezza.” She rambled, and it would have been cute if she hadn’t looked so worked up.

“You’ll wear something nice. Which you always do. I promise Aaron will just be wearing a T-shirt. You act like yourself which is the way I love you. And wine is a good idea but absolutely not necessary.” You assured her, answering one question after another. You had been so concerned about calming her that you hadn’t really thought about the exact words you had used.

“Love?” She asked a bit perplexed. Maybe it was a bit early but with Emily? How could you not love her. You grinned a bit stupidly. “Of course, you idiot.” She cracked a smile at that, and you were very thankful for that. You’d walk through hell to see that smile.

“Ti amo anch'io, tesoro.” She whispered against your lips, having leaned in. The kiss was a bit sloppy, cause you were both smiling like lovesick idiots. Which you kind of were.

“Oh my god, this is adorable!” A very excited voice called through the bullpen, unmistakably Penelope’s. Emily and you broke apart, laughing softly. You stood incredibly close to each other, hands still intertwined. Both your head turned, and you weren’t surprised to see the whole team stare at you. Most of them just smiled knowingly. Spencer looked like he had missed about twenty chapters, which her kind of had. His head turned from us to JJ next him.

“Wha-?” Everyone just laughed fondly. Everything was fine.

[blackbirdie1234]

Brothers Best Friend Pt.2

Pt.1        

Sam Uley! x Fem!Reader!

A/N: Part Two of a two-part series where Sam is your brother's friend. Slightly based on the plot of New Moon. Emily is Sam's cousin in this. Sorry this took me so long, I've been super busy. Sorry if this sucks lol I didn't proofread but I hope you like it. Feel free to comment, I would love feedback! Stay tuned for my Fred Weasley fics soon!

Warnings//: Profanity.

Summary: Sam is your brother's best friend. What happens when suddenly you start hearing rumors that they have joined a gang and gone off the rails.

B/N=Brothers name (make one up if you wish

"I only have one, why did my brother attack Sam like that? It was out of nowhere, I couldn't even react. It all happened so fast," you ask with confusion trying to wrap your head around all of this.

She looked at you a bit stunned as if she didn't know that piece of information, and you had just said something bizarre. 

"He what?" she stuttered. "Wait B/N attacked Sam? Is that why they shifted? I thought the boys caught a whiff of....... never mind" she trailed off, not meaning to slip up.

"Caught a whiff of what?" you ask, staring at her intensely. She looks up at you like a guilty child getting caught doing something wrong by their parents, she avoids your eyes and stands up starting to clean up what you assume was lunch, until the boys were interrupted.

"Of what, Emily" you press, a bit more sternly.

Just as Emily was about to speak, all of the boys barged into the house playfully pushing each other around. You search the group for your brother and Sam. They must still be outside. You sit there as Emily laughs at the boy’s antics and kisses her boyfriend Jared. They all turn to look at you. 

“I guess the Wolf’s out of the bag” Embry remarks with a smirk.

“Sorry if we scared you Y/n,” Quil says with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

You smile shyly at them  

“ It’s okay, I think the initial shock is gone,” you say with a breathy laugh.

“Sam and B/n are on the porch if you want to go talk to them,” Jared added, moving to sit at the table and grabbing a muffin. 

You nod your head and stand up, walking to the front door nervously. You could hear your heartbeat booming in your ears. You were more nervous to talk to Sam than anyone. Ever since you made eye contact you couldn't get him out of your head, you feel guilty but your brother barely crossed your mind. You should have been worried about B/n but you couldn’t help but worry for Sam, wondering why B/n would attack him and if he was okay. You near the door and before you can open it your brother walks into the house. You stare at each other for a while, he can tell on your face that he isn’t the one you were hoping to see. He doesn’t say a word, only tossing his head back to the porch and continuing to walk into the kitchen. You continue to walk out of the house and see Sam sitting on the steps with his head in his hands. He looks up when he hears your footsteps. You sit next to him and look out at the trees, not saying a word.

“I assume Emily filled you in” Sam begins, hesitation clear in his voice.

“She did, at least part of it. I know what you and the rest of the boys are. I don’t know why, or what any of this means though.” You answer. You hear him sigh, and when you look over at him you can see he’s restraining himself, like he wants to say something but is hesitating heavily. Trying to find the right words before he begins. 

“I need you to trust me, I need you to listen and I need you to promise me you won’t take off running before I finish explaining” He breathed. 

You stare at him momentarily, a bit scared and shocked at what he is saying. You already know he is a werewolf, what could he tell you that would make you run when you haven’t already? 

“Okay, I promise” You accepted. You were nervous, but you couldn’t help the pull you felt towards Sam. You could sit there for hours not saying a word and be perfectly content. You tried to push your feelings down in his moment, now was not the time to let your emotions take control. 

“Growing up with the stories of our tribe, you already know what we are… but there are things, secrets, only the pack members and elders know.” He sighs, breath shaking from nervousness. 

You sit waiting patiently for him to continue. 

“None of this was a choice, not a single one of us chose this for ourselves. I don’t think any of us would choose this life if we did have a say in it.” He takes a moment to glance at you, then continues. “ In our world, there is something called an imprint. An imprint is a person that you have a special bond with. When you meet this person,  it is no longer gravity holding you to the earth… it's them. Having an imprint is like having a best friend, a lover, a sister, or anything that the bond decides that you are. It's not always romantic, it can be whatever the imprint decides they need. We wolves go along with it, we are happy to. On our side of things, we will be whatever the imprint wants or needs. We act as a built-in protector, friend, family member, or…lover.” he trails, glancing at you to read your face.

“ So what does this have to do with me?” You say confused. 

“You are my imprint Y/N, I understand all of this is shocking and crazy. If you need time to figure things out I will support that and whatever else you need. Just say the word and I will back off.” He says rushing, trying to be clear that you have a choice even if he doesn’t. 

“Do you even like me? I mean I know you said that it doesn’t have to be romantic but do you even want me to be your imprint?” You said, insecurity dripped from your words. You didn't mean to sound so rude or disappointed but you wanted to know that these feelings were not one-sided. You had feelings for him and now you’re bonded, but he is making it seem like he wouldn’t have picked you if he had the choice. 

He doesn’t have a choice. This thought repeats in your head filling the silence that takes over until he begins speaking again. 

“You’re my best friend's little sister” He heaves a sigh. He puts his head in his hands and grips his hair before looking up at you again. 

“Fuck it” He mumbles before grabbing the back of your head and bringing you closer to him in one smooth motion. You can feel the heat coming off your body, your cheeks become warmer and you become more nervous under his intense gaze. He looks down at your lips and then into your eyes, waiting for you to pull away or tell him to stop. You sit there shocked for a second, mind racing and body not fully responding to what is happening. 

“Yes,” you speak barely above a whisper, answering his unasked question. 

That's all he needs before he connects your lips, grip still on the back of your head. Your eyes close and you sink into the moment. All the years of pining suddenly become clear as the kiss deepens. Two people who have tried to keep their feelings hidden finally let them flow as their mouths move perfectly in sync. The kiss is aggressive, hard, and fueled by fire but also soft, warm, and loving. Contradicting itself but turning into the perfect blend of yin and yang. It was a representation of the people who made it.

You both pull away out of breath but longing for more. You open your eyes, catching your breath. You push on his chest softly and back up. As amazing as the kiss was, you needed to hear him say how he felt. You needed to know that it wasn’t just the imprint bond.

He quickly realized what you were searching for and smiled softly, moving his hand from your head and taking your hands into his own. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids” he said blushing, looking down at his hands and then looking out to the beach in the distance.

 “I knew since the day your brother and I were playing with BB guns and he shot me in the forehead. Even though it was an accident you screamed at him and called him stupid for not being more careful.” You both laugh softly at the memory, he smiles at you before continuing. “You took me inside and gave me a bag of frozen peas to put on my head. I was embarrassed but you looked at me with the purest look in your eyes and told me that ‘everyone got hurt and it was okay to let someone else help you every once and a while’. I realized how special you are, I wanted to be around you to feel that comfort that you so easily gave. From that day on my feelings only grew, but I didn’t want your brother to find out. I thought that he would hate me, I thought that I would be a bad friend for even considering liking you. So I hid it, and slowly I started ignoring you. I feel horrible for it but I had to, I couldn't talk to you or even be near you without feeling like I was going to slip up and reveal what I was trying to suppress. I also never even considered that you would ever feel the same. So I’m sorry I never told you and I ignored you for so long but I didn’t feel like I had any other choice” He finishes his rant letting out a long breath 

You smile widely, gazing at him lovingly. You reach up and turn his head to face you, taking his face into your hands. 

“ How did you not realize what was right in front of you, I've felt the same way for so long I can't even begin to tell you how long I've felt this way.” You breathe out a laugh. “I understand, why you did what you did. I did the same honestly, I was scared of how B/N would react so I pushed down my feelings and tried to act normal. Sam we don’t have to hide ourselves anymore. I want this”

 You take his hand in your own squeezing it slightly. “If this is what you want, you have a choice in this as well,” You say kindly. 

He looks at your hands interlinked and then back at you smiling softly. “Of course, this is what I want, this will always be what I want Y/N” 

You share another loving kiss before you hear loud cheering and hollering coming from inside. You both turn your heads to see the boys celebrating and acting like it’s New Year's. They start plummeting towards you both, patting Sam on the back and pushing him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Chill out guys” Sam demands, smiling and shoving them backwards. 

You stare at them smiling and laughing at their antics, until you see your brother standing in the doorway. 

“You have my blessing by the way,” He says with a smirk. 

“Like I need it” You retort rolling your eyes at his cockiness. 

You stand up and follow him inside, while the boys continue to gush about how they can finally stop hearing Sam’s sad and depressing thoughts about you. 

Your brother tells you that he didn’t mean to react the way he did but the wolf can be hard to control. He informs you about all that he’s been going through these past months and how he wanted to tell you and your parents for so long, but since Sam is the alpha what he says goes. You tell him to go see your parents tomorrow and how much pain he has caused the family. 

After the talk, you both head down to the beach and sit around the fire. You’re cuddling with Sam, surrounded by everyone laughing and enjoying the clear-skied night. You realize this is exactly where you want to be. This is exactly what you’ve wanted for a long time. You’re going to love this new life that is forming in front of you.

[fandomwritingbit]

William afton x (fem)reader - scarf

Warnings: smut basically just Will wanking. Dark themes - pervert William, inappropriate relationship. The unfortunate use of a good scarf.

Notes: minimal plot, I wrote this on the train, its barely proofread lmao

"See you later, Mr Emily!" you call over your shoulder, half slinging your jacket and handbag on your arm. It's been a long day, and you were much too eager to get out of this place, making you forget the scarf you'd worn this morning, that hung on a hook shared by some of the staff. It was a thin silky fabric, a gift from a friend and you've worn it pretty much every day since.

"Monday, y/n?" A voice calls after you, stopping you from slipping away out the fire door. You turn to see your other boss, clearly on his way out for a fag, cigarette in hand and all.

"Yeah. No worries. See ya, Mr Afton." You smile politely, hating to be reminded of the extra shift you'd picked up. Then finally making it outside, ready for at least several hours of sleep.

~

Yeah, you will see him on Monday, where hopefully you'll wear that cheeky little skirt again, Afton thought to himself, smirking. It really had been a pleasure to see you on your hands and knees cleaning up something some trainee had dropped, it left very little to his imagination and that could be a dangerous enough tool on its own. You were fast becoming his favourite thing to see rushing around the restaurant, but he hadn't quite worked on cornering you yet.

He was about to follow your path outside and spark up, but glancing to the left, he saw your forgotten article. Now, what had he done to deserve this? He couldn't help himself from grinning wide, fuck the smoke, he had a better idea. Snatching the scarf from the peg he struggled with the impulse to press it to his nose. Restraint, William, he reminded himself. But that had never been his strong suit.

With it in hand, he left through the fire door, scanning the empty car park, left for his car and Henry's, somewhat appropriately at opposite ends. Henry's right under a light, his in a pitch-black corner which just couldn't be better for what he was about to do. Tucking the now undesired cigarette behind his ear, he slipped in his car, locked the doors, and waited for the interior light to turn itself off.

It was then in the complete dark that he inhaled the scent of you on this scarf, pressing it to his face as his head leant back against the seat rest, sneering into the fabric. The smell of you drove him wild, God he'd been wasting time not calling you into his office and seeing what kind of knickers you had on under that fucking skirt. Holy shit.

Dirty thoughts materialised in his head and with a grunt he unfastened his belt, pulled down his fly and took his cock out. It had been a surprising fair while since he had last done this and in consequence, he found himself impatient. Breathing in your smell, he could almost taste you. You sweet, pretty little thing, you probably had no idea how just the small 'how are you's had driven him to stroking his cock with your scarf in his face like some kind of creep. Feeling himself close, his pace was rough with himself. God he was a fucking pervert, but he didn't feel the guilt he should, he'll he celebrated it because he knew he had a talent for making cute pieces like you into perverts too.

It was easy to imagine you on top of him, his hand on your throat, moving your body just how he wanted it. You clawing at him. He could make you scream, hate him and thank him all at the same time.

Pulling your scarf from his face, he bucked into his hand, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle the groan of him falling over the edge. He hadn't thought to get a tissue or something to the liking and shoved your garment into his lap to collect his release.

His head hit the headrest again, a half-smirk half-scowl on his face. He chuckled, well, you certainly weren't getting this back now.

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part xv

✧.* adjusting to your new lifestyle has never been easier with lando by your side

✧.* just something peaceful and sweet after the last chapter 🥰 this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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y/nusername

liked by maxfewtrell, landonorris and 761,542 others

y/nusername summer break(ing bones) ☀

tagged: landonorris

views all 1,012 comments

norry4 well at least you can joke about it 😭

carlandooo good to see you're doing okay! <3

hamilt44n love that the color of your cast matches with your nails 😂

y/nlandooo so happy to see you're doing great and are spending time with your family!

bott_ass please I'm so happy to see you living your farm life again, it's been too long since we got to see the animals 😭

sharl16 I can't explain it but the duck and y/n have the same vibe

landonorris who's that handsome guy?

y/nusername Mickey 🐴

landonorris I wasn't talking about the horse

y/nusername well I am..

norrizz pls get married, have babies, grow old together, stay together forever 😭😭😭

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 699,561 others

y/nusername with the man of the house 🐱

view all 999 comments

yukisan wish I could spend all day in bed..

hamilt44n girl we don't get to see what she does all day and so what, give her a break 💀

norrizz my girl is chilling like she should!

maxmaxmax oh to be an animal in y/n's household :(

landonorris that should be me in your bed

y/nusername shouldn't have fled the country then

landonorris someone's gotta make a living..

landoscar girl it's in the middle of summer why you cuddled up in thick blankets 😭

norry4 man of the house? Lando has left the chat 😂

grussell63 something tells me lando doesn't have a say in this house 😂

landonorris you're right

grussell63 im sorry 😭😭

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y/nusername

liked by cecilemoulin, maxfewtrell and 701,761 others

y/nusername 🧜🏻‍♀️

tagged: landonorris, cecilemoulin, maxfewtrell

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maxmaxmax now who's idea was it to have a boat day knowing damn well y/n can't go in the water with her cast 😭

fewtrelllando the besties back together once again 🥰

julieeeexo couldn't they find something else to do..idk, something that can be done with a cast lmfao

y/nusername it was my idea and I did dip my feet in the water, that was enough to cool me down 😉

norry4 don't know why y'all are freaking out, let them do their thing

cecilemoulin great great great great great day ❤️

maxfewtrell did you have a great day?

bott_ass good to see y'all back together, I was getting worried 😭

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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream @dreamsarebig @for-our-moony @sadg3 @gaslysainz @goldenharrysworld @okqur @baw-sixteen @dark-night-sky-99

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05

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