#emily the vigorous

[firecooking]

Theodore

And Emily

Foduck

Hank

and George

[hotchscoffeecup]

unstuck (pt.2 to stuck)

pairing: hotch x reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff

rating: e

summary: it’s been two weeks since you and hotch were stuck in an elevator together and two weeks since he’d nearly kissed you. unable to shake him from your mind, you’re pleasantly surprised when he shows up at your house with flowers and a plan.

“Well look who decided to show up?” Derek teases as he passes by your desk.

You flash him an amused smile and plop your bag down inside your bottom drawer. “Good morning to you too, Morgan.”

“Are you still on light duty?” Reid asks from his desk, which is parallel to yours.

You nod. “I have a follow up in a week with the doctor to get cleared to go back in the field, but I haven’t had any pain or headaches in several days now.”

“And look,” Derek says, perching on the side of your desk. “You even got a little bitty battle scar.” He inclines his head towards you, where the tail of your eyebrow is now severed; a pale pink line now traversing it.

You scoff, “Battle scar, please. Let’s just tell people I got tackled by an unsub or had to break through a window or anything that isn’t me falling face first into an elevator panel in front of my boss.”

“Speaking of…” Derek trails off and subtly points toward Hotch’s office, where JJ just finished dropping off a file.

Hotch moves swiftly out of his office and knocks on Rossi’s door, summoning him. With Rossi now trailing behind him, he leans over the railing. “Conference room,” he says, and it’s an order. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on yours for a second longer than he normally would.

“What was that?” Spencer asks as you grab your mug of coffee and head towards the conference room.

“What was what?” you ask, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Leave it to the boy genius to pick up on that which is imperceptible. Well, okay, that is your job after all, but still.

“The extended eye contact with Hotch. Are you in trouble?”

You let out an exasperated laugh. “Spencer, it’s my first day back. Why would I be in trouble?”

He frowns and shrugs, though there’s a curious glint in his eye. “Not sure.”

“Spencer,” you warn, drawing out his name. His lips twitch into a smile as he quickens his pace and dips into the conference room.

Damn that boy and his big giant brain. You settle in next to him at the round table, where you can keep an eye on him and whatever subtle antics he might try to employ to dig more meaning out of things.

Penelope struts into the room, her multi-colored pigtails streaked with blue and purple bouncing as she draws to a stop in front of the wide monitor.

“Good afternoon, Crime Fighters. Boy, do we have a doozy on our hands today…”

You feel Hotch’s eyes on you as Penelope flashes images across the screen of crime scene photos from the local PD down in Raleigh, North Carolina. It takes everything you have not to look up at him from your case file and listen to what Penelope is saying.

At the end of the briefing, you gather your belongings and swiftly exit the room. Dropping the file on your desk in passing, you dash into the restroom and lean over the sink. You exhale a deep breath and swipe a hand through your hair. “What are you doing?” you whisper to your reflection. “You’re acting like a middle schooler.”

“What’s this about middle school?”

You startle at the sound of Emily’s voice. The door creaks as it shuts behind her.

“Nothing!” you answer quickly, too quickly.

One of Emily’s perfectly manicured eyebrows arches toward her hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall. “Spill.”

You do, and you don’t hold back. The words tumble out of your mouth in an avalanche of detail.

Emily’s eyes widen. “Hotch?”

You nod vigorously. “Yes!”

“Hotch cupped your face in his hand?”

You groan, “With extended eye contact!”

Emily waves her hands in front of her, face scrunching. “I need a visual. Do it to me. Pretend I’m you and you’re Hotch.”

You roll your eyes and relent, approaching Emily. With eyes locked on hers, you force a concerned expression onto your face and cradle her cheek in your hand.

At that moment, the door swings open and JJ strides into the bathroom. When she sees you and Emily in this compromising position, her face is a wash of confusion.

“What is going on here?”

“Oh my God,” Emily says, mouth agape.

“Oh my God,” you whine and drop your hand from her face.

“Do you understand what I’m talking about now?”

Emily nods slowly, “Yeah.”

“Hello?” JJ says, waving her hand out in front of her. “Anyone want to clue me in here?”

Emily’s lips curve into a sly smile. “Someone has a crush on a certain Unit Chief.”

JJ’s jaw drops to her chest as your eyes sharpen to daggers. You reach forward and punch Emily in the shoulder.

“Ow!” she exclaims, laughing and rubbing her shoulder. “And vice versa!” she adds.

“No!” JJ responds, the disbelief evident in her voice. She leans her hip against the sink. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

You throw your hands in the air. “I don’t know! What are you supposed to do after something like that? It’s easy to get lost in the idea of it when you’re stuck in an elevator and then in a small hospital room for six hours. He took me to breakfast at 4am at this 24 hour diner and then insisted on taking me home. The whole time, no matter where we were, we just laughed and talked and none of it was about work.”

“Hotch with a sense of humor?” Emily questions. “Our Hotch?”

“Yes! And now we’re back at work and he’s all serious and stern, but I catch these subtle-not-subtle looks and now I don’t know if I’m reading into things or we’re both just too awkward and scared to acknowledge something was going on that night.”

“Not to be the stick in the mud,” JJ starts, “but do you think it could’ve been a product of being stuck together? Like maybe the forced proximity brought up feelings you might not otherwise feel for one another.”

“No, you’re definitely not a stick in the mud. I thought the exact same thing. And then I thought because I was home for two weeks that I was just ruminating on the idea of toeing that line with him and then I started to focus on the little things like that stupid dimple in his chin when he smiles and the way he remembers the little things about everyone and now I don’t know if I actually like him or just this conflated idea of him.”

Emily blows out a slow breath. “I definitely don’t think you’ve conflated anything. I think you got a glimpse of the real Hotch and that was exciting for both of you and now you’re both in uncharted waters without a map and you’re freaking out.”

You sigh, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. “What am I supposed to do?”

JJ and Emily exchange a knowing look. “Let us handle that.”

•

You heave a sigh of relief as you settle into the plush couch cushions in your living room. Your phone buzzes on the counter, but you ignore it. You can take at least five minutes to yourself before work summons you back to the office. You’d only just gotten home from work about twenty minutes ago. The clock reads 8:24PM, but you feel as though you could go to bed right now and sleep for twelve hours.

You rub the raised scar tissue at your eyebrow. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but you can’t believe how two weeks out of work has caused your stamina to dwindle. Just sitting at your desk all day has you exhausted…maybe you should take Morgan up on his offer to jog together before work, get your energy levels back up before you return to the field.

That is a call you’ll make later though. For now, your only job is to decide between Indian or Thai takeout for dinner. As you pick up the menus off of your coffee table, there’s a knock at the front door.

Brow furrowed, you stand up and make your way towards the entryway of your apartment, unsure of who it could be.

When you open the door, your lips part in surprise.

“Hotch, what are you doing here?”

He licks his lips before smiling awkwardly. “I, uh, I tried to call.”

“I left my phone on the charger. What uh, is everything okay? Is there a case?” God you hoped not. The team had only just returned from Raleigh a few hours ago.

He nods quickly. “Yeah, yes. Everything is fine. There’s no case. Nothing like that. I um, I brought you these.” He moves fully into the doorway, a bouquet of carnations dotted with baby’s breath in hand.

Your features relax as you take them. “Hotch, these are beautiful.”

He scrubs a hand through his hair, a crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. “Emily told me they were your favorite. I had a really interesting conversation with her and JJ on the plane.”

You stiffen, only mildly embarrassed. Oh God, what did they say?

He smiles again. “They reminded me how out of practice I am when it comes to all of this.” He waves a hand through the air.

“Oh yeah?” you press, a smile of your own playing on your lips. “And what might this be Agent Hotchner?”

He shakes his head as a melodic chuckle tumbles from his mouth. He knows you’re toying with him. “Dating. Asking people out.” His warm eyes flick up to meet yours. “Asking you out.”

“Is that what’s happening now?” you tease.

He nods, the smile never leaving his lips. “Yes, I am asking you out. I thought maybe I’d take you to dinner. We talk, not about work,” he adds pointedly. “We drink some wine, maybe share a dessert.”

“Aaron Hotchner, a dessert guy. Who would’ve thought?”

He inclines his head, amused. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You arch a brow, intrigued. Grabbing your purse off of the hook by the door, you withdraw your keys and step out onto the welcome mat, closing the door behind you and locking it. “I was wrestling with what to order for dinner tonight. I was stuck between Thai or Indian.” You turn around, your body just barely pressing against him in the small porch space. You tilt your chin up to look at him and

watch his Adam’s apple bob. You stand on your toes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving to speak in his ear. “Care to surprise me?”

As you step past him onto the sidewalk leading down to the curb, you feel one of Hotch’s wide hands wrap around your forearm. He twirls you around and pulls you up against his body. He doesn’t hesitate and presses his lips against yours, kissing you with such fervor you swear you see stars. When he pulls away you’re both breathless and your eyes are still closed. Hotch whispers in your ear, “Surprised?”

You nod, opening your eyes and looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Very.”

The corner of his lips twitch as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“How long have you been wanting to do that?”

He looks up, as if the answer to the question is somewhere in the stars above. After a moment, he levels his gaze back on you. “When did we get stuck inside that elevator?”

Your lips quirk into a smile. “About two weeks, give or take.”

He nods, “I’d say about three months before that.”

Your eyes widen, brow climbing towards your hairline. “Well, damn, Hotch.”

“I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?” He opens the car door for you and you slide in with ease. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he starts the car. His hand lingers on the gear shift, not quite ready to shift into drive. He looks at you, eyes glimmering in the street lights outside.

“If we do this, it won’t be easy.”

You lean over the center console, meeting his gaze head on. With a smile on your lips, you press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, no longer scared to make a move; all of your walls having crumbled the second he’d kissed you on the sidewalk. “Nothing about our lives is easy.”

“Then we’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this.”

[yourmomxx]

i wanted to request something sweet with my man aaron hotchner. like r and him work at the bau but their relationship is a secret until r kiss him on accident because shes excited about something!!! i hope this make sense idk!

thanks bestie have a great week!

i’m loving me some babygirl aaron hotchner honestly, i hope you like how this turned out!!

The office lights were blinding.

Like clinically cold balls of headlights that were penetrating through your skull, buzzing at an abnormally high frequence consistently.

You groaned inwardly and pressed the balls of your hands deep into your eyesockets, anything to just make that stupid headache go away so you could continue filing your reports that laid unedited on your desk.

You tapped the head of your pen vigorously against the desk top to jog a flow of words for you to write down.

With your hand supporting your head, you didn't notice a figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." The tone of Aaron Hotchner's voice was soft and warm, but you still couldn't help but jump at the unexpected presence so near next to you.

You sighed when you noticed it was him, and leaned your head on your hand again. "Hey."

Aaron threw a look on you, then your files, and then your hunched figure again.

His gaze softened.

"Why don't you go home?" He suggested. You opened your mouth to openly protest, but Aaron cut you off before you even started talking.

"You need the rest," He made it clear to you, "and I'm sure Jack would love if you read him a story before bedtime."

You threw him a look. "You can't just lure me home using your son. That's not fair game."

The corners of Aaron's mouth twitched and he tilted his head.

You sighed. "Even if I wanted to go home," You said, "This paperwork won't finish itself."

Aaron moved closer to you and threw a glance over your shoulder, one hand supporting his weight on your desk as he leaned over your body.

"Let me do it," He offered.

You turned to look at him. "I can't ask that of you."

Aaron straightened up. "You're not asking, I'm offering."

Carefully, he pulled your pen out of your hand and put it back into its designated holder with multiple other ones that probably weren't even functioning anymore.

"Now," He drew out slowly, while his fingers were circling under the collar of your jacket hung over your chair, and he held it out to you, "Go home."

You threw him a doubting look. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"I can make this an order if I want to."

You raised your hands, defeated.

"Alright, alright."

Slowly, you rolled your chair back and stood up, and accepted happily when Aaron helped you slip into the warm jacket. His hands kept steadying you at your shoulders. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax against him for the blink of a second.

"Thank you," You muttered to him.

Aaron nodded. "Of course."

Your bag was already packed, it was a plus, as you lifted it off the floor.

"Maybe you can read Jack the book you brought him the last time," Aaron suggested. "He hasn't put it down since I showed him."

At his words, your face cracked into a huge, beaming smile.

"He actually liked it?" You hushed. Aaron nodded, smiling.

"That was my favorite book as a child, I'm so glad!"

You strode forward and pulled him closer to you in a short, but emotion-pouring kiss.

When you leaned away, Aaron smiled.

"Get home safe," He said. "Text me."

You dug out your headphones out of your bag and smiled at him.

"Always."

Then, not without throwing your lover a last kiss in your steps, you made your way out of the glass gates and left the building.

Only when the closed elevator doors put you out of his line of sight, Aaron allowed himself to finally pull out your chair and sit down.

He cracked open one of the brown files and started writing.

Only a few tables away, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were frozen in the same position they had been in just one minute ago.

Emily opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

Derek turned to Rossi. "Should we-?"

"No." The elder Agent cut him off.

Emily gestured wildly with her hands. "But they just-"

"I know, but - let's just not."

Spencer tilted his head.

Emily gave in.

They all just watched as their Unit Chief sat on your desk and filled out files that weren't his, as if it was the most normal thing on earth.

[ddejavvu]

Hi can I request spencer reid x reader, but reader has the same IQ as him. So she is a new member of the team and she looks all bubbly but then during a convo she spits some facts and Spencer is impressed. You do not have to do it!! I love youuu💕💕💕

You're quite used to the awkward silence that spans for several moments after you finally fall silent, the weight of your gruesome fact-spewing laying heavily over everyone. But this time there's a glimmer of amusement in their eyes, in the glances they share, and a dumbfounded stare from Doctor Reid.

"There's two of them," A dark-haired woman- Emily? Emmy? You're still shaky on names - gushes, and the man you remember as Derek groans from beside her.

"Doctor Reid has a habit of reciting textbook pages too," Agent Rossi smiles ruefully at you, "I think maybe the rest of us should just quit, and leave the BAU to you two."

"You'll fit right in," Agent Hotchner assures you, a smile uncharacteristically curved over his lips, "Reid, you two should sit together on the jet; maybe you'll tire each other out."

You share a giddy sort of grin with Doctor Reid, who seems to have a faint pink hue dusted over his cheeks. He nods, lips pressed thin and curled into a sheepish smile, "Uh- yeah, we can- we can talk. About- well, anything. Have you... ever seen Doctor Who?"

A vigorous nod is all you get in before Agent Hotchner pulls you back to your work with a stern, but underlyingly fond, "Alright, team, focus." But the promise of a blab session with Doctor Reid inspires you to speed through the case briefing, firing off suggestions and theories left and right to help the rest of the team finalize their thoughts.

The phrase 'Wheels up in thirty' releases you all, and you're elated to see Spencer hanging back while everyone else goes to fetch their go-bags. You linger beside him and he turns, a hopeful smile on his face.

"So, um- did you really want to-? To sit with me? We don't have to talk about Doctor Who, if you don't want to. Or- or anything, we don't have to talk about anything if you'd rather just... not."

"I'd love to talk about Doctor Who," You assure him, "And- anything, really. People don't like talking to me."

"People don't like talking to me either," He lets out a breathy laugh, glancing down at his shoes, "But... I think I'll like talking to you."

"Likewise," You grin, gesturing to the door, "Let's hurry and board early. We have a lot to discuss, Doctor Reid."

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Four- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, TomRiddle, weaponizing!Tom (slightly?), Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Outstanding, naturally," you said, your voice laced with confidence and your grin so wide it seemed to stretch beyond the boundaries of your face. "Must you even ask?"

The morning sunlight filtered through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a warm glow over the room as you and your friends gathered for breakfast. Emily, your blonde-haired friend that you've known since your very first day here, couldn't help but to snicker at your bluntness, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

It’d been almost two weeks since you’d last met with Mattheo, since there was no tutor session last week due to your exam in Advanced Magical Studies. Admittedly, you were thankful for the break.

"Is there any subject where you don't get perfect  grades?" Your other friend Michael said, widened eyes glancing at your marked exam in your hands. "You're a natural born Ravenclaw prodigy...I don't know how you do it, I simply can't wrap my head around it."

Emily, in between bites, nodded vigorously, her admiration evident. "It's true, you seem to effortlessly ace every bloody class. Meanwhile, I'm literally up to my neck in notes, struggling away in hopes of achieving a Meets Expectations."

"Come on, Emily," you said, sitting up a bit taller in your seat. "You earned an Outstanding on the exam too. Your intelligence and dedication are remarkable. You give yourself far too little credit."

She shrugged, taking a moment to chew her food thoughtfully. "Maybe," she conceded, her eyes briefly meeting yours. "But your brilliance seems innate, effortless. It's both inspiring and, I must admit, a tad infuriating."

The corners of her lips twitched into a half-smile, acknowledging the mix of admiration and friendly jealousy in her words. You couldn't help but to blush at her compliments, feeling proud of just how much your intense studies over the years have paid off. Your friends know just how much of your life you've dedicated to your education, and that by this point--after grinding away for years and years, the knowledge was just seamless to you. It just came naturally.

"Good morning, my dear students," came a gentle yet resonant voice from directly behind you, shattering the comfortable silence. "And how might you find yourselves on this delightful, sun-filled morning?"

As you turned, you were met with the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore, his warm presence enveloping the room with ease.

You rose from your seat, your hands clasped together in front of you. "Good morning, Professor; it's always a pleasure to see you. I'm wonderful, how about yourself?"

Your friends gave similar responses, each earning an attentive nod.

"Very good, very good," Dumbledore's voice resonated warmly, his eyes crinkling with a kind smile. "Thank you all."

His gaze shifted to you, a mix of gentleness and concern in his eyes. "I would be grateful for a moment of your time in my office, if you could spare it. It concerns your peer tutoring sessions. Would you be able to join me before the day's lessons commence?”

A sickening twist gripped your stomach, causing your once radiant smile to shatter into fragments. You battled to shield your fear, but it threatened to consume you--every horrifying possibility flooding your mind in a torrent.

Your eyes were drawn involuntarily across the room, zeroing in on the Slytherin table, only to find the devil himself, Mattheo Riddle, the harbinger of your academic ruin--was already fucking staring, smug arrogance practically radiating off of him as he relished your clear discomfort. His calculating gaze felt like a vulture circling its prey, keenly observing every nuance of your nervous demeanour--and you were certain you were about to collapse to the floor. 

Snapping yourself from your trance, you returned your eyes to your Professor, mustering up the best fake smile you possibly could. "Absolutely, Professor--it's no trouble at all."

"Wonderful," he smiled, nodding. "Shall we?"

With a subtle nod, he gracefully guided you out of the Great Hall, your fingers tightly clutching the strap of your bag after bidding your friends goodbye. Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of the impending conversation tightening its grip on your every nerve. You trailed closely behind Dumbledore, the echo of your footsteps blending with the murmur of distant conversations.

As you approached the Hall's exit, Dumbledore's movements came to an abrupt halt. He spun around with a swift grace, his piercing eyes sweeping across the tables like a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog, searching for someone specific amidst the bustling sea of students.

And when his searching gaze finally landed on the person he sought, he outstretched his arm, a subtle wave beckoning them to follow. Your eyes widened in complete horror as Riddle stood up, tossing his bag over his shoulder with an air of arrogant nonchalance. Slowly, he began making his way toward you, his every step seemingly echoing off the walls of your mind.

The lot of you moved briskly, following Dumbledore to his office, Mattheo not deigning to acknowledge your existence except for the few brief, unsettling glances he kept throwing your way, a knowing smirk plastered across his face, practically casting a shadow of impending doom over your academic future.

As you entered Dumbledore's office, your heart continued to race with fear, the heavy weight of impending disaster hanging over you like a storm cloud. Dumbledore gestured for you and Riddle to sit down, the creaking of the chairs adding to the palpable tension in the room. You could hardly bear to look at Riddle, certain that his presence here meant he had failed the exam. Your post-graduate career seemed destined to crumble before it even began.

Your mind spun with catastrophic thoughts, the urge to throw up from nerves clawing at your throat. Just as you prepared yourself for the devastating news, Dumbledore's voice cut through the suffocating silence like a lifeline.

"Well, I must be frank, and I hope you won't take offense, Mister Riddle," his tone was incisive, his words carrying a weight of honesty. "I didn't harbor high hopes for substantial improvement in your academic pursuits when you commenced this new tutoring arrangement. Considering your history and the difficulty you faced in finding a suitable mentor, my expectations were rather restrained."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning, nerves screaming in fear as Dumbledore spoke. His gaze was penetrating, his words hanging heavily in the air. He straightened in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"However, it is entirely safe to say that I was beyond pleased when I found out that you had achieved an 'Exceeds Expectations,' on your recent exam--which, if I may point out, is your highest grade thus far."

Your mind reeled, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. Dumbledore's words echoed in your ears, and your jaw dropped in utter shock.

"Exceeds expectations," you repeated, your eyes wider than the sun and just as blaring. "Exceeds expectations! Mattheo, that's amazing!"

When you glanced at Mattheo, his eyes practically glimmered with a peculiar mix of pride and smug arrogance. His confident smirk persisted, etched on his features as he reclined casually in the chair beside you, choosing to remain silent; but you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval as he continued. "Your efforts in guiding Mister Riddle have not only benefited him but also showcased your exceptional skills as a tutor. It's a rare talent to break through someone's barriers, especially someone as formidable as he...I encourage both of you to continue this fruitful collaboration, nurturing each other's potential to the fullest."

You were gleaming. Screaming. On the verge of tears. This felt like a miracle, like music to your ears. The surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm you; you wanted to run until your legs gave out, to kiss Mattheo's stupidly infuriating face until it was raw. This was all you had ever wanted, more than anything else in the world.

"Thank you so much Professor," you beamed, your voice filled with excitement. "Your encouragement means more to me than you could ever begin to imagine."

"No, thank you, dear," Dumbledore said, a benevolent smile gracing his features. "Oh, and since I have you here, I was actually wondering if you'd be interested in joining the Hogwarts Mentorship Guild. Currently, it's coincidentally being overseen by Mister Riddle's brother, Tom...I do believe it would be an immensely beneficial experience for you. It's quite selective, but with my personal recommendation, your entry would be assured. You'd have weekly meetings with Tom and the other members-"

Every word that fell from Dumbledore's lips ignited an exhilarating flutter in your chest, a surge of excitement threatening to crack your ribcage open and pierce through your heart. The prospect of joining the prestigious club had been a cherished dream for years, and now, the reality of it was overwhelming. You basked in the euphoria, savoring the moment, until Mattheo's voice abruptly shattered the joy that had filled your soul.

"Professor, if I may," Mattheo spoke up, his tone surprisingly earnest as he straightened in his chair; his jaw tensed and his eyes dark. "I was actually wondering if she could tutor me in Potions as well...I could definitely use the help...it's been rough, to say the least."

His request hung in the air, creating a pause charged with unexpected tension. The elation that had filled you moments ago now mingled with apprehension as Dumbledores gaze darted between the two of you, his demeanour shifting as he leaned back in his chair.

"That would be up to her, Mister Riddle...I would imagine you'd struggle with doing all three, my dear witch...how about you think on it, and get back to me in a weeks time with what you'd prefer to do, yes?"

With anger simmering beneath your skin, you nodded and mustered a fake smile as you stood up. You extended your hand, shaking Dumbledore's firmly, concealing the turmoil within you. After exchanging polite goodbyes, assuring him of your prompt response, you spun on your heels with a sense of urgency that left Mattheo in your dust. Ignoring his calls that faded into the distance, you marched toward your dorm room, determined to shut out the world and the infuriating presence of Mattheo Riddle.

Right now, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him--nothing at all. But of course, he wasn't having that.

The heavy, urgent pounding on your door reverberated through the room, rattling your bones and intensifying your annoyance. Mattheo's relentless assault on the door seemed never-ending, refusing to halt for even a moment. Fearing the spectacle he might create in the hallway and the questions it would spark among your peers, you reluctantly decided to put an end to the commotion.

With a surge of anger-fueled determination, you swung the door open, gripping a fistful of his tie between your infuriated fingers as you pulled him inside. The door slammed shut behind him, the noise echoing your frustration, and you kept your grasp on his tie, shoving his back up against the wood of your door.

"Potions?" you hissed, your voice laced with seething anger as you pressed against him. "In the name of the four fucking founders, Riddle, potions?"

He blinked, clearly startled by the intensity of your rage. "What-"

"You're about to shatter one of my lifelong dreams just because you can't handle a cauldron and some bloody ingredients?" you spat through gritted teeth, eyes burning with fury. "Are you genuinely that hopelessly inept?"

Your response was met with a suffocating silence, his lips parting as if searching for words that never materialized. His jaw clenched, his eyes darting away briefly, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. The weight of his silence only fueled the blaze of your anger.

"Haven't you taken enough from me?" you hissed, the emotion in your tone nearly tangible. "Haven't you wreaked sufficient havoc on my life?"

Mattheo's eyes darkened, his irises smoldering with unspoken fury as he silently wrestled with his words. His fists clenched at his sides, the intensity of his emotions evident, yet the silence persisted. You could practically feel the weight of his suppressed anger hanging heavily in the air.

"You really have nothing to fucking say, do you?" you spat, your voice sharp with disappointment. "The arrogant Slytherin prince, always ready with a cutting remark, suddenly struck dumb when he's called out...how utterly predictable."

You scoffed, your frustration mounting as his inability to respond only fueled the fire of your own indignation.

"You're unbelievable." You said, finally releasing his tie and spinning away from him, moving across the room with deliberate pace before you spun back around, meeting his dark eyes from against the opposite wall. "I'm happy that your grades are improving under my guidance but I think you'll have to find someone else to tutor you in potions...I'm sorry, Mattheo."

Riddle blinked, stepping forward. "I don't need help in potions."

You paused. You weren't sure if you'd even heard him correctly. "What?"

"I don't need help in potions." He repeated, taking another step.

"You don't-" your brows pinched, your words falling short as Mattheo veered closer. "But you-"

"My grades are bad, yeah," he said, voice low and hoarse. "But I'm not failing. And I certainly don't need a tutor."

Your chest constricted. You weren't following him. "Then why? Why'd you say that to Dumbledore?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw locking with tension. Swallowing hard, his throat worked as he landed himself roughly an arms length away from you, his eyes darker than the midnight sky and twice as intense.

"Because," he said, taking a singular step closer. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

His words slammed your chest so hard you almost fell over. "Excuse me?"

"My brother," he said, his tone flat and unwavering. "I don't want you anywhere fucking near my brother."

Your jaw dropped, the air catching in your lungs. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed you, each one sparking a fire in your core that you desperately wished to ignore. Your head spun, torn between the lingering anger and the new surge of shock and disbelief at his words.

"You're not serious..." you spat, peering up at him as he loomed over you, hastily taking a step back to create some distance between you. "Riddle, please tell me you're fucking joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he replied, his expression carved from stone, taking another step closer and erasing the space you had just tried to create. "Huh, Raven? Do I?"

Anger swelled inside you, clouding your vision. "You've lost your fucking mind," you said, your voice dropping so low you weren't even sure if he'd heard you. "You're being controlling, Mattheo. That's...you can't just..."

Mattheo tilted his head, backing you up against the wall, a predatory glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "I can't, what?"

Your throat went dry, his hands pressing against the wood on either side of your head. "You can't just-"

Your words were cut short as Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "Can't what, Raven?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Go on, spit it out."

Gods, curse him. Curse him to bloody hell.

"You can't just control my life like you own it, Mattheo," you whispered against his lips, ignoring the fiery desire that flared within you, something you fought fiercely to suppress. "Outside of that classroom, you don't hold any power over me."

Mattheo's lips curled into a sly, taunting smile, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Oh, Raven," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper, "you have no idea how wrong you are...inside that classroom or out, you're mine to control...I believe I've proven that today--you'd have never gotten the offer to join that fucking club if it wasn't for my improved grades."

You scowled, your back pressing firmly against the wall as his lips trailed down to your jawline. Frustration mingled with desire, a dangerous combination that sent your senses reeling.

You cursed yourself inwardly, loathing the way your resolve seemed to crumble under his touch. Why did a boy this bad have to look so fucking sweet? Why did a boy this bad for you have to taste so fucking good?

"No...you're wrong, Mattheo..." you whispered, your voice trembling, trying to inject conviction into your words despite the turmoil inside you. "You're so fucking wrong."

"Am I, Raven?" He teased, his voice smug, one hand shifting to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. "So you're saying, that if I told you to get on your knees for me, right now in the middle of your dorm room like my good little whore, you wouldn't do it?" His lips grazed your ear, your lids fluttering involuntarily. "Or...if I told you to take off your shirt so I could cum all over those beautiful fucking tits of yours, you'd say no...hm?"

Your breath caught in your throat, his touch and words igniting a fierce battle within you. As much as you knew the next words form your lips were an entire fucking lie, you simply couldn't help yourself. Merlin knows your body and mind were betraying you, all you had left was your mouth--which was never known to go down without a fight.

"That's right, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, betraying the tremor in your resolve. "I'd say no...one million times over I'd say no..."

Mattheo groaned, the noise reverberating down your spine as he breathed it directly into your eardrum. Your thighs screamed in need at the sound--your stomach flipping as his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your neck.

"And if I asked you to kiss me?" He murmured, his intense gaze locking onto yours. "Would you still say no then?"

Your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could hear it. "I...I would..."

"Yeah?" He said, his voice a sultry whisper, wetting his lips as he glimpsed yours. "You sure about that, Raven?"

Your lungs sputtered, trying your best to keep your composure as you nodded, glimpsing his lips now. "I'm sure, Mattheo..."

His nails dug into your neck, every inch of your body ablaze as your gaze darted between his dark, intoxicated eyes and his plush, inviting lips. You cursed yourself, the internal struggle fierce and unrelenting. You cursed yourself so intensely, you could almost taste the bitterness of your own self-reproach.

"Mm." He hummed, grazing his lips over yours with feather like precision, before he pulled back. "And what would I have to do to change your mind, huh? Do you want me to fucking beg, princess?"

A low, desperate sound escaped your lips, a primal mewl reverberating in your chest. "That might help..." you breathed. "Maybe if you got on your knees while you did, it'd be far more effective..."

"Fuck...I've created a monster, haven't I..." he huffed, smirk teasing his perfect fucking lips, both hands falling to your hips as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. "A beautiful, slutty little monster..."

You were speechless, body blazed with desire, torn between the intense pull in his eyes and the irresistible temptation of his lips. Holy fucking hell you wanted to kiss him so unbelievably bad, you weren't sure how much longer you could continue playing this little game; the desire only strengthening as he ran his hands along your curves, rough palms smoothing down your thighs as he peered up at you--chocolate curls sitting messy over his forehead, his dark eyes burning wounds into your flesh.

"Kiss me, Raven..." he whispered, holding your sight, voice strained weigh desire so intense it was palpable. "Please, fucking kiss me."

That did it. That absolutely did it.

Without a second thought, you bent at the waist, seizing his tie and directing his mouth to yours, your lips crashing onto his in a feverish, desperate kiss. At the passionate connection, a low moan slid past your teeth, your fingers entwining in his hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue sought entrance, and you willingly granted it, eliciting a low, primal growl from him. His hands tightened around the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place, not daring to move an inch higher.

Mattheo nipped your bottom lip, smirking as he tugged on it gently before releasing it, blinking as he met your eyes. "I love the way you moan for me, Raven..." he purred, hands slowly moving up, slipping under your skirt. "You have no idea what I could fucking do to you."

You whimpered as his hands slid higher, gripping your ass under your skirt, his face dangerously close to your sex. Your fingers curled tightly into his hair, gripping the strands within your palms as your entire body quivered. His lips left a trail of hot, fervent kisses along your outer thigh, igniting a path of tingling sensations in their wake.

"Gods..." you moaned, unable to form any other coherent word as his hands explored and caressed places on your body that no one else had ever touched before. "Mattheo..."

"Fucking hell..." he groaned, his grip tightening. "If you do that again I might not be able to stop myself Raven...I might have to rip this fucking skirt off and make you moan my name over and over until it's the only word you remember..."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning in a whirlpool of desire at his words. Every fiber of your being trembled, quivering under his touch. Mattheo pulled himself up to his feet, his hands still firmly gripping your ass as he pressed himself against you, the strength of his grip pulling your crotch against his. Even through the fabric of his trousers, you could feel his aggressive erection pressing against you.

Involuntarily, you moaned again.

"Mhm, that’s right...” Mattheo hummed, wet lips grazing your ear. "…and you say I don't have control over you..." he purred, licking a slow line up the side of your throat. "You're fucking melting for me and I've barely touched you, Raven..."

His mention of control snapped you back to your senses, not wanting your earlier anger to be neutered so easily, despite the lake pooling between your thighs for this cunning enigma of a man.

"I'm still mad at you, Mattheo..." you managed to croak out, head falling back as he pressed his lips to your neck. "You can't keep doing this...you can't keep sweet-talking me out of my anger for you.”

"Is that what you think I'm doing here?" He huffed, one hand leaving your ass and gripping your hip with enough force to shatter your bones. "Maybe I just can't keep my fucking hands off of you...maybe I like knowing I'm the only one who's ever touched you like this, the only one who's ever fucked your throat and seen those perfect tits of yours...maybe I don't like sharing...maybe I don't like the thought of my brother getting you alone and trying to take what's mine..."

You whimpered, chest constricting. "And you told me not to get attached?" You said, ignoring the burning, screaming flames that ignited at his admission. "You're utterly delusional...I'm not your fucking toy-"

“Yes you are.” He huffed, a deviant grin crawling over his lips. "And believe me, I'm not attached, princess..." he said. "I'm possessive, and there's a fucking difference. I know my brother...I know exactly how he operates."

"If it's anything like how you do, then I can understand your concern." You scoffed, not even attempting to hide your smirk. "But I'm not a child, I don't need protection. And believe me when I tell you, one irritating Riddle man in my life is more than enough."

His jaw tensed at your words, and he loosened his grip, almost fully releasing you, but not quite. "You can do all three."

You paused, lips parting, but he cut you off, sensing your incoming confusion. "Tutoring me in advanced magical studies and potions…plus the stupid club. You can do all three."

"What?" You were dumbfounded, nearly speechless. "I-I can't, Riddle...Dumbledore said-"

"He's only saying that because he thinks you'd actually have to tutor me in potions...we can just make him think you are...imagine how impressed he'll be when you tell him-"

"Oh, Mattheo! That's brilliant!" You beamed, excitement filling your eyes, all of your earlier anger and concern and disappointment seemingly flowing from your flesh, dissipating into the charged air. You gripped his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek, smirking as you pulled back. "You really changed your mind rather quickly."

"I see how much it upset you." He shrugged, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to interfere with your goals, Raven. I just want you to know that even though he's my brother, I won't refrain from kicking his fucking ass if he tries anything."

Your jaw fell open like you wanted to reply, but words would fail you, and he smirked. “Tell Dumbledore you’ll do it. And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Without giving you the chance to respond, he spun around, briskly making his way out of your dorm without another bloody word--leaving you entirely at a loss, unable to comprehend what the hell just happened.

————

CHAPTER FIVE->

[snixkers]

Picture You

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × GN!Reader

For: requested by @suckerforcate to fill my body worship square for @cmkinkbingo2024

EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT

Content Warnings: Cunnilingus/fingering (emily receiving), pagan/hellenistic religious imagery that could be considered blasphemous, reader is simping hard, and I don't blame them, Emily is implied to be older

Summary: You feel the need to prove to Emily she's your one and only.

Author's Note: Ngl, this might be my favorite piece I've ever written. It's definitely less steamy, but I was feeling the wlw yearning HARD (And, as always, peep the Chappell Roan song)

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

Your girlfriend was absolutely gorgeous. Sometimes, the hardest part of being with her was that she didn't see that herself. Emily was always relatively confident, but she didn't see just how beautiful she was.

Her raven hair, which was slowly starting to mix with sparse strands of silver, was perfect for running your hands through. Her onyx eyes were easy to get lost in, reflecting her wisdom and maturity. Everything about her, head to toe, was like she was made just for you.

And you planned to show her.

That's why she was currently flat on her back on your shared bed, legs and arms spread wide so you had easier access.

You started with her forehead, peppering her face with quick kisses that made her giggle before trailing down to her neck. She trailed off into a choked moan, looking down at you. You just smiled at her, tugging gently on her hair and urging her to close her eyes. Once she did as you asked, you moved down to the smooth expanse of her chest, kissing the valley between.

She was moaning fully now, and you could feel her getting antsy. You kneeled between her legs, not letting her relieve the pressure. You wanted to be the one giving her pleasure. Your fingers wandered after your mouth, sliding down to palm each breast.

Emily bit her lip, keeping her focus on your touch. Her hips shifted slightly, but you reassured her you'd be giving her what she needed shortly. You trailed the tip of your tongue down the center of her stomach, feeling the hidden muscles beneath.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, years of togetherness making the needs of her body second nature to you. You finally settled between her legs, licking a broad stripe up her folds and reveling hedonistically in her noises.

She knew what you wanted, for her to sit still and enjoy it, but she needed more. You obliged, spreading her slickness around and making her writhe needily. It was like an offering, and the sounds you managed to coax out of her were your rewards. This woman was like a goddess, and you were her willing disciple, tending to the temple of her body.

Emily spread her legs wider to give you better access, and you greedily lapped her up. Your hands found their way to the usual spots, one alternating between each nipple and lavishing them with attention while the other moved closer to her entrance.

She whined for more, and who were you, a mere mortal, to deny her what she wanted? You slid one finger into her waiting heat, which she rewarded with a sharp gasp. Your finger thrust with renewed vigor, determined to make her moan, make her come, make her feel the prayer you were reciting between her legs.

Your fingers worked in tandem with your tongue to bring her to climax, and the taste of her was ambrosia itself. Certainly, if she bled, ichor, not blood, would flow from the wound.

Slowly and reluctantly, you peeled away from your feast, hovering over her to take everything in. How in the world did someone like her walk the earth without a loyal band of followers, people willing to bend to her every whim?

But as she kissed you lovingly as your reward for your piety, you knew that it was worth doing the work millions should be as long as she was satisfied.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The End (The Surprise, Part 25)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of afab body parts, baby times, emotional times, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Everything you've ever wanted, everything Emily's ever wanted–it's happening. ❤️

NOTE: You guys 😭😭😭 I've literally had so much fun writing this series! I know it's not the end end. I'll keep adding chapters as I feel like it. But still. This is a bittersweet one to finish up. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. ❤️

The End

You blinked awake, and it was as if your senses, your body itself, were restarting after a hard reboot. Your brain couldn’t quite catch up with the bright lights, the beeping of the machines, the throbbing pain below your belly…

Your breath caught in your throat. Your belly. It had shrunk, not completely, but it was empty, you knew. You coughed and winced, glancing around the room so quickly you made yourself dizzy, your brain seemingly unable to take in any of the visual information. You felt tears spring to your eyes, a cold panic seize your chest; you could hear your heart rate monitor beep faster, more urgently, until alarms were going off. Where was the baby!? Something was wrong, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She was gone. She was lost.

But, then, something familiar, finally. A voice you recognized. Emily’s: soft and gentle and comforting, the way she always sounded when you were scared and she was trying to calm you down. 

“Hey, hey,” she cooed, and your eyes swam as her face came into view. You were so confused and you felt sick and your stomach hurt and your baby… You choked out a sob and Emily gently grasped your face, kissing your eyelids. “It’s okay, honey. You’re okay.” She had huge, dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t been sleeping, and when your eyes focused, you could see that she was on the verge of crying, too. And that terrified you.

You couldn’t seem to get any words out, but managed to place your hand over your stomach, looking into Emily’s eyes to ask a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

Emily wiped tears from under your eyes and sniffled. “Baby, she’s fine. She’s just fine. She’s sleeping right there.” Emily pointed to the chair behind her. Beside it was an elevated box, an incubator, and inside, just barely poking out, you could see her skin, her little foot, minuscule and perfect.

You sobbed in relief and Emily kissed your forehead, wiping her own tears away before running a hand through your hair. “She’s okay, honey.” Her voice broke as she looked at you. “You scared us, you know that?”

You pulled Emily toward you, so you could press your forehead to hers, could just breathe her in. She was so relieved, had been so scared, her body literally shook with it. You kissed the side of her head, holding her close.

You cleared your throat and looked again at the incubator, shocked at how your stomach had shifted from being sick with worry to being sick with excitement.

“A girl?” you asked, voice hoarse from the anesthesia. Your eyes twinkled with mischief as you waited for Emily’s answer.

She nodded, grinning and shaking her head at the long-running joke. “You were right. You want to hold her?”

You nodded vigorously, trying to sit up further and wincing at the pain in your abdomen.

“Careful, careful!” Emily exclaimed, lunging forward to help you. “Be gentle with yourself, please, baby,” she insisted, watching you as if you could break at any moment.

Emily washed her hands thoroughly, then doused them in hand sanitizer before squirting an ungodly amount of sanitizer in her hands and bringing it to you. She rubbed it into your skin, then pulled your shirt open a bit so that your chest was exposed.

You waited, barely breathing, as Emily carefully pulled the incubator over. She opened the little door and reached in gingerly to grab the baby, cradling her carefully and kissing her forehead.

“Eve,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Meet your mama, sweet pea.”

Emily’s eyes were full of tears again–and so were yours–as she carefully placed the sleepy baby on your chest. You sniffed, blinking tears away as you cradled your daughter’s tiny, warm body. Eve gurgled and wriggled and blinked her eyes open. She wrapped her hand around your pointer finger and you giggled. Nothing had ever felt more right, more perfect in the world, than Eve resting on your chest, than her little heart beating against yours, than holding her here while Emily sat propped on the bed beside you, running her hand through your hair and kissing your head every few moments.

“Hi, pretty girl,” you whispered to the baby. Eve coughed a bit and started to cry and you patted her back gently. “Oh, shh. It’s okay, Evie. You’re okay, baby girl.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that, you and Emily, just watching her, just beaming to one another every time Eve moved, every time she made a new adorable sound, every time she yawned or blinked or squeezed her little fists. But it wasn’t long enough. You didn’t know that you’d ever get enough of this.

Dr. Delgado came in and smiled at you all. “How are all my ladies doing this morning?”

You grinned so wide your cheeks hurt. You pressed your hand into hers and looked into her eyes. “Thank you. So much.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and by her voice you could tell she really meant it. “Now, Y/N, you lost quite a bit of blood during the c-section and the resulting surgery to repair your uterine lining. I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but… you will not be able to have more children.”

Emily squeezed your shoulder, and both she and Dr. Delgado waited a bit, as if waiting for you to break down. But you didn’t feel sad, at least not right now. You had Eve. You and Emily had a child. That’s what you had set out wanting, and that’s what you had. You couldn’t imagine needing anything or anyone else besides the two girls you had with you right now.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“It also might take a bit longer for your c-section incision to heal than most, since your body’s healing internal damage, too. All that to say, let Emily help you. Understood?”

“Understood,” you confirmed.

“Alright,” Dr. Delgado consulted her tablet. “Some official business now. Emily, now that Y/N’s awake, do you feel comfortable putting the name on the birth certificate?”

“I do,” she said, her hands never leaving you.

“Alright, so obviously, first name ‘Eve.’ Last name?”

“Prentiss,” you told her. You’d both decided that a long time ago.

“Any middle name?”

You looked at Emily and she nodded toward you. “Your call, honey. You won.”

You stared down at Eve’s sweet, crinkled face and smiled. “Julien.”

Emily sucked in a little breath beside you, furrowing her eyebrows when you looked at her.

You shrugged. “It’s can be a girl’s name. Your family should be a part of her name, too.”

“Eve Julien Prentiss,” Dr. Delgado repeated. “Is that right?”

You both nodded, and Emily planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Alright. She was born yesterday, August 24, at 5:42 AM. Four pounds, one ounce. 17.1 inches. All in all, she’s doing very well. I’d like to monitor her for at least 48 more hours and, ideally, I’d like her latching and breastfeeding, at least some, before you take her home, if we can make it happen. We can always supplement with formula as needed, though. Right now, she’s got a nasal cannula to help her breathe, but she’s doing very well with it, so I think we should have you guys home within the week, at most. Alright?” She set down the tablet and gestured toward you. “While I’m here, you want to try breastfeeding?”

“Yes!” you answered excitedly. “Please.”

Dr. Delgado handed you a moon-shaped pillow and placed it around your waist. “Okay. So we’re gonna send you home with one of these. It’ll help you stay comfortable, especially while you’re recovering. You’re gonna want to do what’s called a football hold while your incision is healing…”

She gingerly lifted Eve off your chest and positioned her under your arm, just like you were holding a football, and showed you how to hold her head up. “You’re gonna kind of lift the breast up,” Dr. Delgado explained. “And then you bring her to the nipple. You almost want her nose to touch the breast.”

You followed her instructions, using your other hand to press Eve toward your nipple. Emily watched behind you, her fingers rubbing the bottoms of Eve’s feet. You frowned a bit as the baby tried to squirm away, twisting her head.

“Here,” Dr. Delgado suggested. “Try squeezing the tissue around the nipple to make, like, a nipple sandwich. Then brush it against her mouth. She should kind of yawn… Yes! Just like that!”

Eve opened her mouth wide, and you gently pressed her toward your nipple, gasping softly as she took hold and began to suckle. Her little mouth was warm and firm against you.

You smiled and turned to Emily, who was looking at you like she might start crying again.

“Well, that was easy,” Dr. Delgado said, clapping her hands together. “I tell you what, if all babies latched that easily, new parents would spend half the amount of time in the hospital.” She stood and made some notes on her tablet before moving toward the door. “I’ll leave you all alone for a bit. She’ll unlatch when she’s done, you can burp her, and she’ll likely want to take a nap afterward.”

“Thank you, Dr. Delgado,” you called after her.

“Thank you!” Emily echoed.

When the three of you were alone again, Emily wrapped her arms around your neck from behind, planting kiss after kiss on the side of your face.

“Oh, honey, you look so beautiful,” she said, nearly breathless. “Both of you. You know what…”

Emily stood and rifled around in her purse for her phone. When she had it, she stood back and held it out, as if to take a photo.

“Hey!” you protested. “I thought we said no hospital pics!?”

Emily gave you a pointed look. “We said no labor photos. And I kept my word on that! Honey, you’re too pretty not to take a picture of. I mean, look at you!” Emily’s eyes were suddenly swimming again. “Look at my beautiful girls!”

You let Emily take her pictures, knowing that you’d probably be glad to have them later.

A few minutes later, as Emily was scrolling through the photos with a discerning eye–“Baby, do you mind if I post one of these? …Not the boob ones! Just one of the others? Oh! Could we take one of all three of us?” –Eve unlatched from your nipple and yawned, spilling milk out the side of her mouth, which you dabbed up with your hospital gown.

“Hey, Em,” you called to her. “Could you come here and take her for a second? I need to burp her, but I’ve got to move a little, my leg’s falling asleep.”

She was at your side faster than you could finish the request, lifting herself into the hospital bed next to you, and gently taking Eve from you.

“Okay,” you said, fighting off a yawn. The adrenaline of meeting your daughter was wearing off, and the exhaustion of meds and healing and new motherhood was hitting all at once. You tapped Emily’s arm. “I can take her back.”

“I can burp her, honey,” Emily told you, reaching slightly for a burp cloth and draping it over her shoulder. “Why don’t you rest for a while?”

“Are you sure?” you asked, already lowering yourself, slowly, painfully, so that your face rested on Emily’s lap.

“I’m sure,” she said, running one hand through your hair while the other tapped rhythmically against Eve’s back. “It’s not just you now, honey. I can finally pull my weight.”

You squeezed her thigh, smiling against her. “Oh, Em. Baby, you’ve pulled more than your weight. The whole time.”

Before you had the chance to say anything else, you were conked out. So conked out that you were drooling, even snoring a bit. Emily smiled and shook her head at you.

Eve let out a burp that seemed almost too big for her body, and Emily chuckled. “Oh, good job, sweet pea,” she whispered, kissing Eve’s head. “That was a big one. Let’s not wake up Mama, though.” Emily patted Eve’s back for a bit longer, then noticed the deepening of the baby’s breath, the rise and fall of her tiny chest. Eve was asleep, too.

Emily watched you both, her heart filled with so much love she thought it might burst. And to think, just 24 hours ago, she’d been so close to losing you both. She’d never been more thankful in her life, never more determined to keep people safe and happy than she was you and Eve.

In a moment of inspiration, she fished her phone out of her pocket, and held it above her head, positioning all three of you in the photo. You, curled asleep on her lap and Eve sleeping softly on her chest beneath her hand.

She typed out a caption for social media:

My girls ❤️

She couldn’t help it. You were, both of you, too good not to share. And she’d gotten about a million calls from the BAU, not to mention your mom and even her mom, asking for photos and updates. She pressed post and then threw the phone to the side, content for now just to be. She would never take you for granted again, knowing she could have lost everything yesterday. But instead, she had gained everything. Everything she’d ever wanted, here in this room, in this bed. Forever hers. Her girls. She was the luckiest woman in the world.

[elizabethsnuts]

Mini Genius

Spencer Reid x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer go see the team at Quantico, you wanted to show everyone how similar you were to you dad.

———

Spencer carefully adjusted your tiny beige cardigan, making sure it sat perfectly on your small shoulders. You looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, you absolutely loved dressing up like your daddy. Your hair was neatly styled, and you wore a small bow that matched the colour of Spencer’s tie. You were getting ready to go see the team at Quantico, you loved going to see all your aunties and uncles.

Spencer helped you put your white socks and little Mary Janes on, getting you out the door of the house. He carefully strapped you into your car seat, checking the harness twice to ensure it was secure. You giggled in delight as you watched your daddy’s focused expression. "Ready to go see the team, sweetheart?" Spencer asked with a smile.

You nodded enthusiastically and smiled brightly. “We gonna see, Auntie JJ, Auntie Emily, Auntie Penelope! An’ Uncle Derek! An’ an’ an’ Uncle Hotch!”

Spencer chuckled as you listed off the team with your little high-pitched voice, you really did adore the team. “Yep, we’re going to see everyone!”

———

Spencer walked into the elevator, you securely on his hip, your tiny feet swinging and wiggling as you eagerly waited for the elevator to go up. Your outfit really was a miniature version of Spencer’s, you wore a tiny vest over a button-up shirt, complete with little slacks, your tiny Mary Janes and of course your cardigan that sat over the vest and button-up shirt. It was clear that you idolized your father, mimicking his style down to the last detail. You had it down to a T.

When the two of you reached the bullpen, the team was already there, immersed in their work. JJ was the first to notice you. Her face lit up with a bright smile as she stood up and walked over.

JJ took you from Spencer’s arms and hugged you. "Look who's here!" she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. You squealed with delight as you saw familiar faces, waving excitedly to everyone.

"Well, if it isn't the littlest profiler!" Derek called out, standing up from his desk with a broad smile. "And she's dressed just like you, pretty boy!" He approached the three of you and he couldn’t help but tease Spencer. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Reid, did you forget to check your mini-me's wardrobe this morning?" he teased, earning a chuckle from the others.

Spencer chuckled and looked at you. “What? There’s nothing wrong with her outfit. She likes it!”

You nodded and smiled. “Daddy looks nice.” You stated simply.

"That he does," JJ chuckled, stroking your hair. "But I think you definitely pull it off more."

Morgan bent down and ruffled your hair. "So, Y/N, do you also have the smarts like your dad?"

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! Daddy says I remember lots of things."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Spencer. "She's already showing off, huh? Just like you."

Spencer shrugged, a proud smile on his face. "It runs in the family."

"Alright, then," Morgan said, turning back to you. "What can you remember?"

You quickly pulled out a small, colourful book from your backpack. "Daddy took me to the aquarium, an’ I learned all about fishies!"

"Oh yeah?" Morgan's interest was piqued. "What did you learn?"

You opened the book and pointed to a picture of a clownfish. "This is a clownfish. They live in warm waters an’ like to hide in sea anemones. The daddy clownfish takes care of the babies."

"Wow, that's impressive!" Morgan said, genuinely astonished. "You remembered all that?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "An’ this," you flipped the page, "is a hammerhead shark. They can see really well because their eyes are on the sides of their heads. They like to eat stingrays."

Morgan looked up at Spencer, “Okay, pretty boy, I see you’ve made a carbon copy of yourself."

Spencer smiled proudly. "She has an eidetic memory, just like me. She remembers everything we read about at the aquarium."

JJ smiled at you as you flipped through your sea animal book. "I take it you had fun at the aquarium?"

You nodded vigorously, continuing to flip through the pages. "Yes, yes, yes, Aunty JJ! I saw lots an’ lots of fishies. An’ I remembered all their names!"

"Tell Aunty JJ about the octopus," Spencer encouraged you.

Your eyes lit up, and you turned to JJ. "An octopus can change colours to hide from predators. They have three hearts an’ blue blood!"

"Three hearts and blue blood?" JJ repeated, clearly impressed. "That's amazing, Y/N. You're so smart!"

You smiled shyly at the compliment. “Thank you! You know that boy seahorses carry the babies? An’ that starfish can grow their arms back!” You said excitedly with a smile. “Daddy reads bedtime fish stories lots and lots!”

JJ chuckled at your excitement and hugged you closer. “I think that all your sea animal facts are super super cool! I think that when you see Henry next he’d love to hear all about it!”

You giggled and nodded, clapping your hands together in your toddler-like excitement. “Daddy we go see Henry soon? With Aunty JJ!”

Spencer chuckled and nodded, taking you back into his arms. “Sure we can! We’ll organise a day for it, don’t worry.”

———

As the afternoon turned into evening, Spencer gathered up your things, ready to head home. The team gathered around to say their goodbyes, each one giving you a hug or a high-five.

"Come back soon, okay?" Garcia said while she hugged you and gave you double high-fives. “We love having you here, N/N."

You hugged her tightly, your little arms wrapped around her. "I love you, Auntie Penelope."

Spencer took your hand once more, and you waved goodbye to the team. As you walked down the hall, you looked up at your father. "Daddy, can we see more fishies tomorrow?"

Spencer smiled down at you. "We can do anything you want, sweetheart."

You grinned, satisfied with that answer. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Y/N," Spencer replied, lifting you up into his arms for a hug. He knew that no matter where life took him, as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.

[kenzirr]

Hotch is definitely a disney dad. With that being said…

Y/N walked into the BAU office, holding Jack's hand. She had been planning this surprise for weeks and couldn't wait to see the look on Aaron's face. Jack was practically bouncing with excitement, holding a small envelope containing the tickets.

As they approached the bullpen, Y/N spotted the team gathered around, discussing their latest case. She exchanged a quick smile with Jack, who nodded eagerly.

"Alright, let's do this," Y/N whispered to him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

They stepped into the room, and Y/N cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. Aaron looked up first, his eyes lighting up when he saw them.

"Hey, what are you two doing here?" Aaron asked, walking over to them. He knelt down to Jack's level. "Hi, buddy. What's going on?"

Jack grinned and handed the envelope to his dad. "We have a surprise for you, Daddy!"

Y/N could barely contain her excitement as Aaron opened the envelope and pulled out the tickets. His eyes widened as he realized what they were.

"Tickets to Disneyland?" Aaron looked at Y/N in surprise. "For all of us?"

"Yup," Y/N said, grinning. "I thought it would be a great way for us all to relax and have some fun together."

Garcia, who had been listening in, let out an excited squeal. "Oh my gosh, Disneyland! This is going to be epic! Thank you, Y/N!" She rushed over to hug Y/N and Jack.

JJ and Emily shared excited looks. "I can't remember the last time I went to Disneyland," JJ said, smiling. "This is going to be so much fun."

Rossi chuckled. "I'm definitely in. I could use a little magic in my life."

Derek, who had been leaning against his desk, pushed himself off and walked over with a broad grin. "Y/N, you are officially the coolest. Disneyland is going to be amazing."

Spencer, however, looked a bit uncertain. "Disneyland? Isn't it going to be crowded? And there are so many germs..."

Y/N laughed. "Come on, Spencer. It'll be fun. We can all use a break from the usual stress."

Aaron stood up, still looking at the tickets in amazement. "Y/N, this is incredible. Thank you."

Y/N smiled up at him. "I just want us all to have a good time. And I want to see you and Jack having fun together."

Aaron wrapped an arm around Y/N's shoulders and pulled her close. "You're amazing. Thank you for this."

Jack tugged on Aaron's hand. "Daddy, can we go on all the rides? And see Mickey Mouse?"

Aaron chuckled. "Absolutely, buddy. We'll do everything you want."

---

The sun was shining brightly over Disneyland as the team walked through the gates, excitement palpable in the air. Jack was holding Y/N's hand on one side and Aaron's on the other, practically dragging them towards Main Street.

"Look, Daddy, there's Mickey Mouse!" Jack pointed excitedly at the costumed character posing for pictures.

Aaron smiled down at his son. "Do you want to go meet him?"

Jack nodded vigorously, and they made their way over, the rest of the team following close behind. As Jack took a picture with Mickey, Y/N glanced around, taking in the sights and sounds of the happiest place on earth.

"This place really is magical," she said, turning to Garcia, who was snapping photos with her phone.

"Absolutely," Garcia agreed. "And I can't wait to try all the food! I heard the churros here are to die for."

JJ laughed. "Leave it to you to focus on the food, Penelope."

"Hey, food is a big part of the experience," Derek chimed in, wrapping an arm around Garcia's shoulders. "And I've got my eye on those giant turkey legs."

Spencer adjusted his bag, still looking a bit skeptical. "I'm more interested in the history of the park and the engineering behind the rides."

"Of course you are," Emily teased, nudging him playfully. "But come on, even you have to admit there's something special about being here."

Spencer smiled reluctantly. "I suppose it is pretty remarkable."

As they continued through the park, they stopped at various food stands to sample the treats. Y/N and Jack shared a churro, while Aaron tried a Dole Whip for the first time.

"This is really good," Aaron admitted, taking another bite. "I see why people rave about it."

"See? I told you," Y/N said, smiling up at him. "You just have to embrace the experience."

They strolled through the park, enjoying the sights and sounds. At a nearby shop, Y/N spotted the iconic Mickey ears and nudged Aaron playfully.

"We need to get Jack a pair of those," she said.

Aaron chuckled. "And maybe ourselves too?"

Y/N grinned. "Absolutely."

Inside the shop, they tried on various Mickey ears, laughing at the different designs. Y/N picked out a classic pair for Jack, while she and Aaron opted for matching ears with their names embroidered on them.

"Look, Daddy! We match!" Jack said, proudly donning his ears.

Aaron bent down to Jack's level. "We sure do, buddy. You look great."

Y/N snapped a photo of the three of them. Aaron leaned down and kissed her softly, getting a high pitched “awww” from Garcia.

"Alright, who's ready for a ride?" Y/N asked, looking around.

JJ, Emily, Garcia, and Y/N all raised their hands eagerly. "Count us in!" JJ said, grinning.

Aaron knelt down to Jack. "Do you want to go on this one, buddy?"

Jack looked up at the towering mountain, then shook his head. "It's too big, Daddy."

"That's okay," Aaron said gently. "We'll find something else to do while they go on the ride."

As the four women headed towards the ride, Garcia's excitement was contagious. "This is going to be so much fun! I love roller coasters!"

Emily laughed. "Just make sure you hang on tight. This one's a bit wild."

The ride was exhilarating, filled with twists, turns, and dips. When they got off, they were all laughing and breathless, their adrenaline pumping.

"That was amazing!" Y/N said, beaming. "We have to get the photo they took of us."

They found the photo kiosk and burst into laughter at the picture of them screaming and holding on for dear life. "This is definitely a keeper," JJ said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Reuniting with the rest of the team, they shared their experiences, with Jack proudly showing off his new Mickey Mouse ears.

"What's next?" Derek asked, looking around. "I heard there's a new Star Wars ride that's supposed to be incredible."

"Oh, I am so there," Garcia said, eyes lighting up. "Let's go!"

The day was filled with laughter, thrills, and endless fun. They tried new foods, went on rides, and created memories that would last a lifetime. As the sun began to set and the park lit up with twinkling lights, they gathered for the nightly parade, watching in awe as floats and characters danced by.

"This was a perfect day," Y/N said softly, leaning into Aaron's side as they watched the fireworks explode overhead.

Aaron kissed the top of her head. "Thank you for this, Y/N. It really was magical."

Jack, sleepy but happy, snuggled into Y/N's other side. "Can we come back, Daddy?"

"Absolutely, buddy," Aaron said, smiling down at his son. "We'll definitely come back."

As the final fireworks lit up the night sky, Y/N smiled to herself, she knew this day would be one they all remembered forever.

[wonderlanddreamer]

Alfie Solomons x Reader

Summary: Just an all-around cutesy fun family fic based on this request. I'm so sorry this took me so long!

The living room was a sea of chaos and laughter. Alfie Solomons and his three sons, Jacob, Levi and Noah, were engaged in an epic mock battle. Pillows were strewn about like fallen warriors, and cardboard swords clashed with imaginary foes.

Jacob, the self-appointed leader, stood atop the sofa, brandishing his makeshift sword with authority. “To arms, men! We must defend the ship from invaders!”

Levi, ever the enthusiastic six-year-old, charged forward with a pillow shield. “Aye, Captain! No pirates shall cross this line!”

Noah, the youngest at four, followed suit, his eyes wide with excitement. “I’m gonna get the treasure, Daddy!”

Alfie, playing the role of the fearsome pirate captain, let out a hearty laugh that filled the room. “Arrr, you think you can best ol’ Captain Solomons, do ye? Well, you’ll have to try harder than that!”

With a playful growl, Alfie lunged forward, swooping Noah up into his arms and spinning him around. “I’ve got you know, me heartie!”

Noah squealed with delight, waving his arms around as if trying to fly. “Put me down, Captain! I’ll tell you where the treasure is!”

Jacob, not to be outdone, leaped from the sofa with a mighty battle cry. “Charge! Rescue Noah from the clutches of the pirate!”

Levi followed, the two brothers launching a coordinated assault on their father who feigned dramatic defeat, falling to the floor with exaggerated groans. “Oh, the mighty Solomons crew has bested me! What cunning fighters you are!”

You watched from the doorway, cradling your six-month-old daughter, Rosie, who cooed happily in your arms. The boys sprawled across the floor, laughter filling the room, which made you smile. “Okay, crew. Time to tidy up on deck. Our guests will be arriving soon.”

Today was a special day, as your sister Clara and her family were visiting from the countryside. Alfie, ever the doting father, ruffled each of the boys' hair affectionately before making his way over to you. With a tender touch, he cradled the back of Rosie’s head, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek and then one on yours. You rose on your tiptoes to return the gesture with a kiss on his lips before you all busied yourselves tidying up the delightful chaos of your home.

Your family arrived a little while later, just as Alfie and the boys had renewed their game of Pirates. Clara, always the embodiment of poise and grace, stepped into the bustling household with her husband Henry and their children, Emily and James, in tow. The contrast between the two families was immediately noticeable. Emily, a ten-year-old exuding quiet confidence, and James, her shy seven-year-old brother, stood close to their parents, their eyes wide as they absorbed the lively scene around them.

Henry, a man of few words with a fondness for order, appeared slightly uneasy. His gaze lingered momentarily on the scar etched across Alfie’s face—a vivid reminder of the life Alfie had lived and the battles he had faced. Sensing her husband's discomfort, Clara, ever the diplomat, gently nudged him and offered a reassuring smile as they ventured further into the vibrant chaos.

As you ushered them into the living room, Alfie paused in his play, his gaze softening as he greeted your sister with a warm hug. "Clara, love, it's been too long. Henry, good to see you, mate," he said, extending a hand to Henry, who shook it with a polite nod.

The children exchanged tentative smiles, with Emily and James hanging back slightly behind their parents, unsure of how to navigate the exuberant energy of the Solomons boys, who had resumed their play with newfound vigor. Emily, with her neatly braided hair and a book clutched to her chest, surveyed the scene with cautious curiosity, while James, clutching a small toy car, shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“Alright, you lot, settle down for a bit,” you called out, your voice a gentle command amidst the lively chaos. The boys, though reluctant, heeded your words, collapsing onto the sofa in a tangled heap of giggles and elbows, their laughter bubbling up like an unstoppable tide.

As dinner approached, you found yourself orchestrating a delicate balance between chaos and calm. The dining table, a long, sturdy wooden piece that had witnessed countless meals and family gatherings, was set with meticulous care. Each place was adorned with simple yet elegant tableware, and the soft glow of candles flickered gently, casting a warm, inviting light across the room. The aroma of roast chicken, infused with herbs and surrounded by a medley of colorful vegetables, wafted through the air, offering a comforting contrast to the lively chatter and occasional bursts of laughter that echoed around you.

Seated at the head of the table, Alfie took it upon himself to engage Emily and James, his natural charisma shining through as he endeavored to draw them out of their shells. “So, Emily, James, you like stories, yeah? I’ve got a few good ones about treasure hunts and daring escapes that'll have you on the edge of your seat,” he announced with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of challenge.

The children exchanged nervous glances, their eyes flickering between their plates and Alfie’s expectant gaze. Emily seemed both intrigued and wary. James, clutching his fork tightly, was visibly torn between curiosity and caution. Despite Alfie's best efforts, the scar that bisected his face and his naturally booming voice cast a shadow over his otherwise friendly demeanour, making the children hesitant to engage fully.

Noticing their hesitation, you leaned over to Alfie with a gentle smile, your touch on his arm a subtle cue. “Maybe start with something a bit less adventurous, love. How about the story of how you outsmarted that fox in the chicken coop?”

Alfie chuckled, a deep, warm sound that softened the edges of his rugged exterior. He nodded, shifting his approach with ease. “Ah, right, that one’s a classic. So there we were, middle of the night, and this cheeky fox thought he’d have a go at our chickens…” His voice took on a playful tone as he launched into the tale, weaving humour and suspense into his words, gradually drawing Emily and James into the story with each vivid detail. Slowly, their apprehension melted away, replaced by smiles and wide-eyed anticipation.

As Alfie wove stories with animated gestures and a playful tone, the ice continuing to thaw. Emily and James listened intently, their initial apprehension giving way to genuine curiosity. Alfie had a way of turning even the simplest story into an epic adventure, and soon the table was filled with laughter.

Meanwhile, Jacob, Levi, and Noah, ever the mischievous trio, had taken it upon themselves to share their peculiar brand of "wisdom" with their cousins. The boys, with the kind of solemnity that only children can muster, demonstrated what they deemed the "proper" way to eat peas—by launching them like tiny catapults across the table using the backs of their forks. Each pea flew through the air in a perfect arc, landing with a soft plop amidst the plates and cutlery.

Your stern look was met with their exaggerated innocence, the boys' eyes wide and faces a picture of feigned ignorance. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a serious demeanor, you couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The sight was both exasperating and endearing, a reminder of the boundless creativity and joy of childhood.

Little Rosie, perched in her high chair with a perfect view of the spectacle, was utterly delighted. Her tiny hands clapped together with glee, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched her brothers' antics. Her giggles, a sweet and melodic sound, filled the room, providing a joyful counterpoint to the mayhem. Her laughter was infectious, and soon even the adults found themselves chuckling, the initial chaos softening into a shared moment of family warmth and connection.

As the meal progressed, conversation flowed more freely. Clara and Henry shared stories from their quiet village life, while you recounted the latest antics of the boys, each tale more outlandish than the last. Alfie, ever the storyteller, chimed in with anecdotes that had the whole table in stitches, even managing to coax a few smiles from Henry.

After dinner, the children burst forth into the garden, and their liberation from the confines of the dining table met with joyful exuberance. The garden, a sprawling oasis of lush green grass and vibrant wildflowers, was bordered by towering oak trees whose branches swayed gently in the evening breeze. The sky above was a canvas of deepening blues and purples, with the first stars beginning to twinkle against the fading light of day.

The Solomons' boys, natural leaders in mischief and adventure, quickly took charge, inviting Emily and James to join them in a spirited game of hide and seek. Their voices rang out through the crisp air, filled with excitement as they dashed across the lawn, weaving between garden furniture and disappearing into the shadows cast by the trees. Emily, her braids bouncing with each step, giggled as she found a perfect hiding spot behind a sprawling rose bush, while James, his earlier reservations forgotten, crouched behind a large oak, his eyes wide with anticipation. The children's laughter echoed like music, a joyful symphony that spoke of new friendships being forged in the twilight.

Inside the house, you and Clara worked side by side, clearing the table in a seamless rhythm born of years spent sharing chores and confidences. The clatter of cutlery and the gentle scrape of dishes against the wooden table were soothing, familiar sounds. Clara paused for a moment, surveying the room with a smile that reached her eyes. “You’ve got quite the lively crew here,” she commented, her voice tinged with both admiration and amusement. “But I can see the love in every corner of this home.”

You turned your gaze toward the window, where the scene outside unfolded like a cherished painting. There stood Alfie, his silhouette sturdy yet gentle against the dusky sky. He watched over the children with a gaze that was both protective and tender, embodying the essence of a guardian and a father. Rosie, nestled snugly against his broad chest, was a picture of contentment. Her tiny hand clutched his shirt as she nuzzled closer, lulled by the rhythmic motion of Alfie’s hand, which stroked her back with soothing, whisper-soft movements. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with the promise of sleep, as she basked in the warmth and safety of her father's embrace.

“It’s chaotic, but it’s ours. I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” you replied to Clara, a sense of deep satisfaction and love swelling within you. The chaos was a tapestry of cherished moments, woven together by laughter, love, and the vibrant energy of family life.

Clara nodded thoughtfully, her gaze shifting to Alfie. “And Alfie... he’s really something. I think he won over Emily and James with that story about the fox,” she said, her voice soft with appreciation.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you recalled the scene at the table. Alfie’s voice, usually so commanding, had taken on a playful lilt, weaving a tale that captivated the children and drew them into his world. “He has a way about him. Once you get past the rough edges, he’s got the biggest heart,” you remarked, your voice filled with affection and pride. Alfie’s storytelling was more than just entertainment; it was a bridge that connected him to others, revealing the kindness and warmth that lay beneath his rugged exterior. As you and Clara continued to tidy up, the laughter from outside mingled with your own, wrapping your home in a cocoon of love and togetherness.

As the evening gradually drew to a close, the first stars began to twinkle against the velvet backdrop of the night sky, casting a serene glow over the garden. The children, their energy finally beginning to wane after a day filled with laughter and adventure, were coaxed back inside with gentle words and promises of bedtime stories. The transition from the lively outdoors to the comforting confines of the house was seamless, the warmth of the interior enveloping them like a soft blanket.

Upstairs, you tenderly settled Rosie into her crib, her tiny form nestled among the plush blankets. Her eyelids fluttered briefly, a sleepy protest against the pull of slumber, before she succumbed to the peaceful embrace of sleep. Her breathing slowed into a gentle, rhythmic pattern, each exhale a soft sigh of contentment. The boys, still buzzing with the remnants of their outdoor escapades, were soon tucked into their beds. Their whispered conversations, filled with the lingering excitement of the day, gradually faded into the background, replaced by the soothing cadence of their breaths as they drifted off to dreamland.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was relaxed and convivial. Alfie and Henry sat comfortably in the dimly lit living room, each nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid caught the light, casting a warm glow that mirrored the camaraderie between them. Their conversation flowed with ease, the occasional burst of laughter punctuating their dialogue and breaking the stillness of the room. The day’s earlier formalities had given way to a genuine connection, a shared understanding forged over shared stories and mutual respect.

You joined Clara on the sofa, the cushions soft and inviting beneath you. A comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle clink of tea cups and the soft rustle of fabric as James and Emily, their energy finally spent, dozed quietly with their heads resting on Clara’s lap. The moment was a peaceful respite, a chance to reflect on the day’s events.

“It was good to see you,” you said, breaking the quiet, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. “We should do this more often.”

Clara nodded, her smile warm and genuine, radiating the affection of a sister and friend. “Definitely. It’s nice to be reminded of what’s important,” she replied, her gaze drifting momentarily to the sleeping children, her voice laced with gratitude.

As the evening wound down, the sense of fulfillment in the air was palpable. Clara and her family prepared to leave, gathering their belongings with the unhurried pace of those reluctant to part. The visit had been more than just a gathering; it was a celebration of familial strength and the joy that could be found amidst the chaos of everyday life.

Standing at the door, Alfie clapped Henry on the back with a friendly grin, the camaraderie between them evident in the easy banter. “You take care, mate. And don’t worry, next time, I’ll have even better stories,” Alfie promised, his voice a playful rumble that hinted at future gatherings filled with laughter and tales.

Henry chuckled, finally at ease, his earlier reservations long forgotten. “I look forward to it, Alfie,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice a testament to the newfound friendship between the two.

As you waved goodbye to Clara and her family, watching them disappear into the night, you felt a profound sense of contentment. The house, though quieter now, seemed to hum with a lingering warmth, a testament to the bonds that had been strengthened and the love that had been shared over the course of the day.

Turning to Alfie, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you close, you found comfort in his familiar presence. “Well, love, I reckon that went alright in the end, didn’t it?” he mused, his voice a soft rumble that resonated with satisfaction.

You nodded, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your side. “It did, indeed,” you agreed, your voice filled with both relief and joy.

Together, you lingered in the doorway, watching as Clara’s car taillights faded into the darkness. The night settled around you, quiet and still, a gentle reminder of the connections strengthened and the memories made. Feeling the warmth of Alfie's arm around you, a sense of calm and satisfaction washed over you, knowing that the day had brought everyone closer.

[1arkspur-aconitum]

THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND (s.r.)

IN WHICH: Spencer shows up late to work wearing glasses for the first time…

PAIRING: Season 3!Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: fluff

CONTENT: pining, oblivious idiots in love, swearing, Emily being a little meddler

WORD COUNT: 3.7 (this was meant to be only 1k…whoops…)

PUBLISHED: 03/10/24

‘OH MY GOD.’

It’s the best I can do. It is the only thing I can think as Spencer Reid steps through the glass doors into the bullpen.

It’s one of those rare days where Spencer arrives later than me—later than the rest of the team, in fact—and I’m already sitting at my desk when he walks in. A cup of coffee from the Paper Cup (arguably the best coffee in Virginia, bite me Derek Morgan) steams away beside a half-eaten blueberry muffin, the crumbs of which litter the crossword before me. It’s partially completed, but I have yet to finish this specific paper’s puzzle without the genius’ help—I swear it’s almost as if they designed it for him. I’ve even marked little stars next to the ones I’m intending to ask Spencer.

Or, at least, the questions I was intending to ask Spencer. I may not ever get the opportunity to because I think he has decided to kill me this morning.

Spencer Reid steps into the bullpen dressed in brown slacks (as usual) and a striped shirt tucked into said slacks (also normal), but that’s where the familiarity ends.

He’s not wearing a tie which is very bizarre. In fact, the top buttons of his shirt are undone as if he’s rushed out of the door. From this distance I can see the contours of his throat.

We once had a surprisingly in-depth conversation about why ties are more commonly associated with men (due to the inherent power and authority we attach to them) and Spencer said that he tried to always wear one because it made people take him more seriously. I distinctly remember it because it made me kind of sad. The idea that people didn’t take him seriously bothered me more than I’d care to admit.

It’s not the tardiness, nor the lack of a tie, that wipes every thought from my brain, though. It’s not even the way he has pushed his hair away from his face like he’s some kind of Disney prince—though that on any other day would have done something similar to hitting the delete key on a computer.

No, it’s the damn glasses.

Spencer Reid has the audacity to be wearing a pair of horn rimmed glasses.

They’re perched on his nose as if they belong there, which—judging by the way they make his face distort when he turns to greet Derek—they do. I don’t know what it is specifically, but seeing him in glasses makes my stomach drop out of my feet, through several floors of the Quantico building, and deep into the ground.

Obviously Spencer is smart. Anyone who has the luxury of meeting him can tell you as such. It’s not as if he hides it, mister three PhDs and counting. But…but the glasses just do something extra, highlight that aspect of him, and I’ve always been a sucker for intelligence.

I genuinely didn’t think he could get prettier.

‘Shut your mouth, you’ll start drooling.’ Emily sidles up to my desk, thankfully keeping her voice low. I jump embarrassingly and manage to drag my eyes away from where Spencer is deep in discussion with Derek about something Derek doesn’t appear to want to talk about. Astrophysics? The flight path of bumblebees? If I was in Derek’s place, I would be hanging off of Spencer’s every word. ‘Honestly, could you be any more transparent?’

‘I…I’m not transparent!’ I say, but it does take me a second to work out what she’s saying. I take a distracting sip of my coffee, trying to ignore how the light slicks off of the frames as Spencer nods vigorously. A small strand of hair falls into his face and he brushes it away carelessly. ‘Maybe—maybe I was just…admiring the make, or something.’

‘I’m not stupid.’ Emily scoffs, knocking me with the back of her hand. She seems as if she is enjoying this way too much. There’s a sardonic gleam in her eye as she raises an eyebrow. I glower up at her over the rim of my coffee, imagining how it would feel to toss it in her face—anything to get that smug look off of it. ‘You can barely form a sentence.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I turn my nose up at her haughtily. I feel very much the petulant child denying having broken into the biscuit jar even when their mouth is covered in crumbs. ‘See? A perfect sentence.’

‘You’re not fooling anyone.’ Emily feels the need to tell me, eyes flickering between me and Spencer. I make a conscious effort not to look at him. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I wedge my foot underneath one of the spokes of my chair, forcing it to stay directed towards Emily. She grins as if she can sense my inner discord. ‘Y’know, for a profiler, you’re not very good at being discreet.’

‘I’m always discreet.’ The lie tastes bitter in my mouth and I follow it up with a sip of coffee. I don’t know where to look, what to do with myself, so I decide to focus on Emily. She’s wearing a new pair of trousers that have an embellishment up the side, a few beads shining in the sunlight streaming into the office. I wonder if she’ll let me borrow them…

‘I beg to differ.’ Emily perches herself on Spencer’s desk, crossing her legs. The tiny beads glitter like a mirrorball. This is fun for her. She likes making me squirm, and my respect for Emily is declining with every moment she holds me under this particular microscope. Part of me wonders if Emily truly is a sadist. ‘Come on, just admit it.’

‘I refer you to my previous statement,’ I swing my chair around even more to face her, firmly putting my back to where I assume Spencer and Derek are still talking. God, please don’t overhear this. What would I even say if he did? ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Sure.’ She laughs brightly, not believing me for a second—to be fair to her, I don’t even believe myself. I really should get better at lying to my coworkers. It’s frustrating that, to be a profiler, you have to be inherently astute. I’ve always been a relatively open book, which makes this whole situation worse. I have no doubt that my every thought is plastered there for her to dissect. ‘I can’t blame you, you know. I mean, it is very…different. If you’re into that kinda thing, which I think you are—’

‘Please stop.’ I say. My fingers tangle into my hair as I lean forwards, the points of my elbows bruising the soft flesh above my knee.

I hate this feeling. Being so exposed, so vulnerable, being seen like this has never been something I’ve enjoyed. Maybe it is something to do with my childhood, but I never like to think about that too hard. What it comes down to is that I can tease people incessantly, but when the tables have flipped? I hate it. I wonder what that says about me..

‘Just ask him out.’ Emily’s voice is softer now, less ribbed with merciless humour. I look up at her with a disgusted expression–as if that would ever happen. Spencer is my colleague, my friend. There’s no way I’m putting myself out there like that, and she should know that already. She sighs. ‘Seriously. What’s the worst that could happen?’

Uh, everything? He could say no. I could seriously embarrass myself–a habit I have a tendency to do. I could vomit on his new shoes. In fact, Spencer probably doesn’t even like me in that way–thinking about it, I have no idea if Spencer’s even attracted to anyone. He’s never spoken about dates like Derek does, nor mentioned exes. When we talk about our first kisses, he stays silent. Whenever the topic deviates towards something unsuitable for work, Spencer noticeably stays out of it. Maybe he’s just not into anything like that.

That thought hollows out the pit of my stomach for a second.

‘If I answer that, then you’ll just think that I know what you’re talking about.’ I sense her words for the trap that they are. What a sneaky bitch. I narrow my eyes at her and Emily’s eyebrow twitches imperceptibly. A tell. Ever since we met, Emily has had a thing about trying to trick me into confessing my secrets at any opportunity she can get. I think she thinks it’s more fun if she doesn’t ask the question straight up. ‘So no. I’m not going to deign that with a response.’

‘You’re impossible.’ Emily groans. She tries to kick my chair with a free foot, but misses by a mile. Sucker. Like the child I am, I stick my tongue out at her. ‘Come on, you have no idea how painful it is to watch you pining–’

‘You think watching me pine is painful?’ I retort, propping my chin up on my elbow. It’s only when the words are out of my mouth that I realise I may have given a little bit too much away. Emily’s eyes light up with a familiar glee. My cheeks heat and I scowl. ‘Besides, I was merely observing.’

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.’ Emily practically purrs, a mischievous glint in her eye that I decidedly do not like. She pushes off of Spencer’s desk, her fingers trailing along the edge as she meanders to her own. As she does so, her lips curve into a knowing smirk. She mutters something under her breath that is just loud enough for me to catch the hint of amusement.

‘Care to share?’ The words are out of my mouth before I realise that I probably won’t want to hear what she has to say. Yet another one of Emily’s verbal pitfalls—I can’t be expected to spot all of them after-all. Sometimes I think talking to Emily is like navigating a field of bear traps.

‘Oh, nothing—just that you two are more similar than you realise.’ Her voice drips with feigned innocence. She chuckles as she sits herself down, opening a stack of files on her desk with a flourish, effectively ending the conversation and leaving me in a whirlwind of my own thoughts.

More similar than I realise? What on Earth does she mean by that? I know we’re both considered smart—we’re both doctors, we work in the same field, we’re around the same age. Admittedly, I’m not as smart as he is, but everyone can say that. There’s always been something different about Spencer.. He has always been a cut above the rest, a standard no one else can possibly hope to achieve. How could I ever compare myself to that?

I turn my seat around and allow myself a brief glance over to where Spencer and Derek are still standing. Spencer is still talking animatedly, hands gesturing in the space between them. Don’t even get me started on his hands because we could be here for literal hours. A doctoral thesis is 60,000–80,000 words. I reckon I could write that much purely on his hands.

Derek is currently looking at him with a fond, if slightly exasperated expression, having succumbed to his fate of listening to whatever it is Spencer is rambling about. They’re a strange pair but there’s no doubting the love they share between them. It’s honestly so endearing.

My gaze drifts from the pair of them to Spencer. With the glasses, it’s different somehow. The lenses magnify his eyes, making them larger, more expressive. I can see the rapid movement as he processes whatever Derek is saying in response to his rambling, I can watch the slight furrow of his brow as he formulates a response. The more I inspect him, the harder it is for me to work out why I like them so much. Perhaps it’s because he seems…softer, somehow. Less intimidating and more approachable.

More human.

Then it hits me.

The glasses are a vulnerability. They’re an admission that the perfect Spencer Reid is anything but, that, as much as his mind is as sharp as a blade, his eyesight is not. For some reason, that makes him even more attractive to me. Though, to be fair, there’s not much that would make him less attractive to me.

I tear my eyes away, a familiar heat rippling up the back of my neck. I can’t believe I’m having thoughts like this about my coworker. It’s unprofessional, impolite, and definitely dangerous. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

Every time I see him in those glasses, the more I think about what it would be like to kiss him with them on. Would he take them off, or would I? Or, maybe, he leaves them on as I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down towards me. They wouldn’t get in the way if we were careful…

For God’s sake.

I try to focus on my crossword but the words swim before my eyes. All I can see is Spencer’s face with those damn glasses, and the annoyingly infuriating way that they make his eyes sparkle. Perhaps Emily is right–perhaps I am as transparent as a window. This whole thing is stupid. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but it’s not like I can defenestrate them very easily.

Just as I am contemplating burying myself under several feet of damp earth, effectively giving up on the day entirely, Spencer and Derek seem as if they finish their conversation. Derek claps Spencer on the shoulder as the pair of them start to make their way towards us. I do my best to look busy, scribbling down a word on my puzzle that I am 99% sure isn’t correct. My heart hammers in my chest.

Jesus Christ, get your shit together, girl. It’s just an awkward, tall, lanky man. He’s not Hugh Grant. Or James Marsters. He’s just Spencer.

I don’t know if that sentiment makes it better or worse.

‘Morning, June.’ Spencer’s gentle, warm voice drags me out of my shame spiral. When I look up, he’s standing next to his desk, hands clasped in front of him as he peers down at me through those fucking glasses.

I plaster as much of a genuine smile on my face as possible. ‘Morning, Spencer. You’re looking very dashing today.’

Dashing? What the hell was that? Who says that? If I could make a time machine and return back to a few seconds earlier, I would. But, alas, I simply have to wait and see how Spencer responds.

His lips quirk upwards in a shy smile. ‘Really? Thank you. You, uh, you look rather…rather lovely yourself.’

‘Oh, uh, thanks, Spence.’ I mentally kick myself for sounding so flustered, looking anywhere but directly at him. I don’t think I look ‘rather lovely’ today–I’m wearing brown denim flares and a shirt, nothing too fancy. I try to regain some composure. This is so unlike me that it scares me. ‘So, new glasses?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he says, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. My eyes trace a vein that vanishes under the cuff. ‘I ran out of contacts and didn’t have time to go to the opticians. I don’t really like them, though, they kind of get in the way.’

‘Really?’ I try not to sound too surprised and/or offended, but I don’t think it worked very well. The next words I say are pumped with honesty. ‘I think they look good on you. Actually, they really suit you.’

‘Do you genuinely think so?’ He sounds as if he doesn’t believe me, but the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. I nod, mouth suddenly very dry. Spencer sits on the edge of his desk where Emily had been moments before, crossing his long legs at the ankle. The odd socks (pink on the left, neon green on the right) make me smile. ‘I always think they make me look…well, nerdy. Derek agrees.’

I can’t not laugh a little at that, taking a sip of my coffee as I work out how to say what I want to without seriously offending him.

‘Spencer, sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are the epitome of nerdy without the glasses. And–and that’s not a bad thing in the slightest. It’s part of what I like about you.’

‘Oh.’ Spencer turns a furious shade of red, eyes dropping like a stone to stare intently at the floor. I immediately regret the words, but have to play it off as if I don’t. Sweetheart is a new term of endearment and one I didn’t intend to use, but it slipped out. I lean back in my seat, angle my head…do I backtrack? Do I apologise? I’m about to do as such when I see it. A tiny smile. Spencer’s next words are just loud enough for me to hear. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘That’s okay.’ I grin, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to put on a picture of nonchalance. If Emily is to be believed, he can see right through it, but it makes me feel better. I need to say something–anything–else before the silence gets too loud. ‘I actually didn’t know you wore contacts, let alone glasses.’

‘Yeah, I just find contacts easier–did you know that Leonardo da Vinci was the one who was first credited with coming up with the idea of contact lenses in 1508? It wasn’t created in his time, of course, but he was the one who first posited the idea of altering corneal power.’ Spencer’s hands gesture in the space between us as he endearingly rambles on about the creation of contact lenses. It’s sweet, and I let him talk for a while, using this opportunity to watch him. He’s just so pretty that it’s hard to focus. ‘And modern day lenses, the silicone ones, weren’t made until 1998.’

‘Wow, that’s kinda cool.’ I hum, taking a sip of my now almost-cold coffee. ‘I don’t know, I had you pegged as the kind of guy who doesn’t like putting his finger in his eye.’

‘What?’ Spencer chuckles, raising an eyebrow. He pushes his glasses up again and my heart stammers. ‘How could you possibly know that about someone?’

‘Spencer, you’re a known germaphobe. You don’t even shake hands.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t want someone else to put my lenses in,’ Spencer physically shudders at this idea. ‘But if I do it, it’s just my germs.’

‘I suppose that makes sense. If you had a twin, though, would you let them do it? Or someone with super clean hands? What about if you broke your hands and your glasses, and needed someone else to put them in for you?’ I rattle off question after question, knowing I really should stop talking, but it’s as if there’s a torrent of words I cannot control. ‘I mean, there are plenty of, of situations where you may need someone to…to put your contacts in…’

What the fuck am I on about? Oh God, this isn’t happening to me…I never thought I would be so swayed by a pretty face.

‘You’re a strange one.’ Spencer says, after a beat, and his voice is playful. He leans backwards and braces himself on the desk. ‘I don’t know, it depends. I mean, I wouldn’t let Derek do it, but…’

‘I wouldn’t let Derek do it for me, and I don’t even wear contacts.’ I laugh, tilting my head to the side and giving him a cheeky grin. He returns it, and for a moment, we just look at each other. The world narrows, as it always does, to just me and him. There’s a familiar warmth in my stomach that has always been intoxicating.

‘I’d let you put my contacts in.’ Spencer says the words as if they had been building up behind his lips. Pink stains the tops of his cheekbones. It might be a trick of the light, but I’m pretty sure that his gaze flickers down to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning back to my eyes. My breath hitches and I have to look away.

‘Really? I don’t know if I should be flattered or kind of grossed out.’ Another sentence I regret saying, but what does one say to something like that?

Spencer laughs, but it sounds kind of forced. ‘Well, let us hope that it will never come to that. But, if it does, don’t let any of the others do it. Lord knows where their hands have been.’

I laugh too, but before I can say anything more, Hotch’s voice booms across the bullpen. He’s calling Spencer to his office, and the tranquil spell between us is shattered.

Spencer jumps, startled, and clears his throat. He pushes his glasses further up his nose and stands up. He offers me a muttered ‘sorry’ as he walks away, speeding out of the bullpen of desks and heading towards Hotch. I watch him go reluctantly, only looking away when he vanishes inside and the door closes behind him.

The groan I let out is loud enough to make Derek look up, but I bury my head in my hands before any of them can jump on me whilst I’m vulnerable. What the fuck was that? I’m not usually one to get flustered when faced with a pretty man, and usually I’m pretty confident around Spencer. Evidently there’s something about the glasses that turns me into a blathering school girl. It’s so stupid that I have no choice but to get a grip.

When I look up from my hands, determined to not let Spencer’s new eyewear affect me, Emily is watching me with a bemused expression. She must have heard the entire interaction.

‘Smooth, June. Real smooth.’ She says from over her coffee mug, the steam coiling around her like she’s some demon. The devious grin on her face doesn’t help that mental image.

I simply flip her off and return to my crossword.

Nosy bitch.

THANK YOU FOR READING! I CAN’T DECIDE IF I LIKE THIS OR NOT BUT FIGURED WHY NOT? MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY!

[stellarwhisper]

Celestial Insights: Exploring Astrological Dynamics and Personal Charisma

People with Virgo Mars signs have a tendency to communicate their fury clearly and precisely. They frequently have an excellent sense of detail and can identify the particular thing that has irritated them fast. Sometimes this directness catches people off guard, particularly if they don't anticipate such a quick turn from argument to confrontation.

Because of the influence of their ruling planet, Saturn, Capricorn rising individuals are recognized in astrology for their careful and realistic approach to relationships.

Astrology attributes aggressiveness, confidence, and a dynamic energy to Aries, which can truly give them a powerful demeanor. Aries people are frequently described as being beautiful and charismatic, and their ambition is shown in their tenacity ("mom I'm the rich man" mentality).

It is possible that Andrea's metamorphosis and adjustment to Miranda's expectations in "The Devil Wears Prada" are similar to a Pluto-influenced path of self-actualization and empowerment. Pluto relates to extreme metamorphoses, power dynamics, and deep psychological processes. Andrea's development into an even more effective assistant than Emily, her coworker, may allegorically represent Pluto's impact on aiming high and standing up for oneself in difficult situations.

People with Mercury square Saturn frequently approach jobs and conversation with precision and strategy. The tension that arises from the square aspect of Mercury (thinking, communication) and Saturn (structure, discipline) might make them feel as though they require precise instructions in order to feel confident in their actions. They could find it difficult to be spontaneous or unclear, and they would rather follow set rules. This can also apply to routine duties, when they look for particular aspects to guarantee accuracy and efficiency in their work or obligations, such as location, color, and layout.

People with an Aquarius Sun or Rising frequently have a distinctive and one-of-a-kind presence, particularly in online or digital settings. They frequently value uniqueness, creativity, and nonconformist thinking, which might help them stand out in the digital world. They are fascinating and memorable to others because of their charisma and intelligence, which frequently come through in conversations and encounters. They are considered to be "internet stunning" by many, which is partly due to their innate affinity for technology and their capacity to interact with a wide range of ideas and viewpoints.

It's common to characterize Aries Sun people as charming and self-assured, qualities that might add to their allure for women. They might be inherently attractive to others because of their forceful demeanor and sense of adventure. Aries people are also renowned for their physical vigor and frequently have a youthful appearance, which can include qualities like a pleasing face structure and straight teeth that improve their allure. Their smirky, lighthearted, and occasionally naughty personality might enhance their appeal. When it comes to sexual attraction, these traits taken together might make people born under the sign of Aries stand out.

Capricorn moons indeed respect loyalty and dedication in partnerships. They may develop strong emotional bonds with their loved ones and struggle to let go of unpleasant or pleasant memories of the past. Capricorn moons are renowned for their fortitude and will to bounce back from setbacks, even when someone wrongs them. They might use their hurt or rage as fuel for self-improvement, trying to become the best versions of themselves both as a covert means of self-validation and as a means of personal development. Their methodical and aspirational approach demonstrates their drive to overcome obstacles and make a lasting impact.

Neptune can produce an air of mystery, appeal, and charisma when it is placed in the first house, which represents the self and how one is viewed by others. Neptune is also related to dreams, illusions, and spirituality. Neptune in the first house can give off an alluring aura that attracts attention. They frequently arouse curiosity and appreciation due to their dreamy, sensitive, and artistic appearance. However, this location can also lead to misunderstandings or unreasonable expectations from others, as Neptune's influence can blur lines between truth and fantasy.

When considering astrology, the combination of water (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) and fire (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) placements can indeed bring issues connected to emotional and behavioral dynamics. Fire signs are defined by passion, aggressiveness, and spontaneity, whereas water signs are usually connected to feelings, sensitivity, and intuition. A person's chart may show imbalances or discordance between these elements, which can result in unresolved issues including victimization and attachment problems: Victimization: If their emotional requirements aren't satisfied or if they think they're being mistreated, water signs are more likely to feel victimized or to be extremely sensitive. Fire signs, on the other hand, may respond impulsively or assertively, thus worsening emotional problems.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

What Would They Name Their Children? (Headcanons)

2012!Turtles

A/N: Fun fact, my great grandmother was named after Olga of Kyiv. And another fun fact, my grandparents met each other at Niels Bohr institut in Copenhagen.

Warnings: None💚

Leonardo:

Leo would want to honor his Japanese heritage, in the memory of his father. With a great knowledge of not just Japanese culture and language, but mythology and history, Leo would have more than just a few name ideas for his future children. His future partner may very well have to keep him in check, helping him sort through the all.

For Boys:

Kenji, meaning either “strong and vigorous” or “intelligent second son” in Japanese.

Asahi, meaning “morning sun”, “rising sun” or “sunrise” in Japanese.

Kangiten, the Japanese god of bliss.

For Girls:

Haru, meaning “springtime” in Japanese.

Sanyu, meaning “happiness” in Japanese.

Amaterasu, the name of the Shinto goddess of the sun.

Raphael:

Raph likes strong names. Names that make people think of strong warriors and brave leaders. For that to happen, it needs to be names that most people would know, and be able to recognize with at least a little ease. It won’t work if Raph chose a name no one had heard of before.

For Boys:

Thor, after the Norse god of thunder.

Zeus, after the Greek god of lightning and king of the gods.

Anu, also known as the Sky Father and the King of Gods in ancient Mesopotamia.

For Girls:

Boudicca, after the queen of the Iceni tribe, who led the rebellion against the Roman forces that invaded Britain.

Olga, after Olga of Kyiv, who avenged the murder of her husband at the hands of the Drevlians, while protecting her son.

Lagertha, after the Norse shieldmaiden from Norway.

Donatello:

It would be no surprise to anyone, that Donnie would name his children after some of the great minds that he found himself looking up to. Just like Leo, Donnie would have so many names lined up and ready to go, that his future partner would have to help him sort them all through, before setting on the ones that they would find fitting.

For Boys:

Charles, after Charles Darwin.

Deodatta, after Deodatta V. Shenai-Khatkhate.

Niels, after Niels Bohr.

For Girls:

Rosalind, after Rosalind Franklin.

Barbara, after Barbara McClintock.

Emilie, after Emilie du Chatelet.

Michelangelo:

The names Mikey has lined up for his future children, changes quite a bit in reasoning. Some of them mean something to him, in the sense that he finds the meaning of the name very important. Others are important to him, due to pop culture or, well, food. A simple man with simple thoughts I guess.

For Boys:

Keanu, because of Keanu Reeves of course. Duh.

Ace, from Latin, meaning “one”, “someone who excels” or someone of a high rank.

Bodhi, a Sanskrit name meaning “enlightenment” or “awakening”.

For Girls:

Cherry, which both could be referring to a meaning of “dear one”, but also the fruit.

Clementine, meaning everything from “merciful”, “gentle” and “mild” to the small citrus fruit.

Éowyn, because of Lord Of The Rings, of course.

[rainynvght]

Matching Scarfs

Emily and her daughter love to wear matching scarfs on a cozy late autumn day

fluff, fluff, and a little more fluff

emily prentiss x daughter

It was one of those crisp, bright mornings that hinted at the first whispers of winter. The kind of day that made your breath puff out in little clouds and the air taste sharp and fresh. Emily Prentiss stood by the window, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched the world outside. The leaves were starting to fall, drifting lazily from the trees.

She turned her gaze to the kitchen, where her daughter was perched on a stool, swinging her tiny legs and humming a little tune. Her dark hair was tousled from sleep, and her cheeks were still rosy with warmth from the cozy bed she’d just left. Emily’s heart swelled with love as she watched her little girl, her own mini-me in so many ways.

“Darling?,” Emily called softly, using the nickname she’d given her daughter when she was just a baby. “How about we wear our special scarves today?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up immediately, her hum turning into a squeal of delight. “Matchin’ scarves?” she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it just the same.

“Of course,” Emily replied, crossing the room to kneel beside her, stroking a soft hand across her daughter's face. “It’s the perfect day for it, don’t you think?”

She nodded vigorously, her excitement bubbling over as she hopped down from the stool. “Matchin’ scarves with mommy!”, she sang happily, swaying her little head from side to side.

Emily was sure her heart would explode at the adorable sight. 

Together, they made their way to Emily’s bedroom, where she opened the drawer that held their matching scarves—soft, warm wool in a rich shade of purple, with little embroidered flowers along the edges. Emily had bought them on a whim last winter, the first time her daughter had insisted on wanting to “dress just like Mommy.”

Now, it had become their little tradition. Whenever the weather was just right, or when they felt like adding a bit of extra fun to their day, they’d wrap themselves in these scarves and step out into the world as twinning buddies.

Emily carefully draped the scarf around Lily’s neck, making sure the embroidered flowers were perfectly aligned. Lily watched her mother intently, trying to imitate the way she looped the scarf around her own neck. Once they were both wrapped up and cozy, Emily stood back and admired their handiwork.

“Perfect,” she declared, holding out her hand. “Ready?” 

“Ready, mommy!” The tiny girl declared, her curly hair bouncing around as she nodded her head. She slipped her hand into her mother’s. 

They stepped out into the cool morning air, their matching scarves fluttering slightly in the breeze. As they walked down the street, Emily noticed the smiles they got from passersby—people noticing the mother and daughter dressed alike.

The mother-daughter duo had a wonderful day together—stopping by their favorite café for hot chocolate, wandering through the park to collect the prettiest fallen leaves, and even a quick visit to the bookstore where they picked out a new story for bedtime. 

As the day wound down and the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement, they made their way home, tired and content. They were still wrapped in their matching scarves, her daughter’s scarf now slightly dusted with crumbs from the cookies they’d shared earlier. 

Back at home, as they settled in for a quiet evening, Emily couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. It wasn’t just the matching scarves, or the cozy day they’d spent together—it was the simple fact of being there, side by side, sharing these small but precious moments. Moments that, she knew, would stay with both of them long after the scarves were outgrown and the seasons had changed.

“Mommy,” her little girl said, her voice soft and sleepy as she snuggled into Emily’s side on her bed. They had just started to read their new bedtime story together. “Can we wear our scarves again tomorrow?”

Emily smiled, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. “Of course, darling. We can wear them whenever you like.”

And with that, she drifted off to sleep, her little hand still holding onto her scarf. Her favorite scarf of all time.

[ddejavvu]

MORE BEREAL WITH HOTCH OMG!!

but he takes one where he rails me from behind 🤭

part 1

this post is 18+, minors dni.

The consequences of your relationship with Hotch being outed are much less severe than you'd worried about. No one has snitched to Strauss, no one accuses you of sleeping with the boss for leverage in the government. But they do adopt a penchant for teasing you, and it grates on Aaron's nerves more than yours.

"Y/L/N, I didn't peg you as a grave robber," Derek grins, his pen caught between his teeth as he leans back in his chair, "Tell me, can the old man even get it up anymore?"

"That's enough." Hotch snaps, "You're working right now, Agent."

"I'm working, I'm working," Derek assures his boss, putting pen to paper but writing nothing, "Just making sure Y/N's not getting the short end of the stick in this little thing you've got going on."

"It's not short." You promise with a sly grin, and you see Aaron's jaw clench as he tries biting his tongue to keep from smirking. He's stirring his coffee on the counter of the kitchenette and Derek, properly cowed by your retaliation to his teasing, ducks his head and begins scribbling away with a grimace on his face.

You've developed a habit of meeting Aaron in his office for lunch, and today is no different. You take the brunt of your coworker's teasing jeers as you bounce happily up the stairs to Hotch's office, shutting the door on them before Emily can finish whatever jibe she's got locked and loaded.

"Hi," You greet, like you haven't seem him all day, like he wasn't expecting your presence, "You ready to eat?"

"I am," Aaron beams at you, shuffling paperwork out of the way to clear a space for your lunch bag, "Did you happen to grab any crackers from the pantry before we left?"

"I did," You brag, showcasing a full sleeve of them to pair with the dip you'd made, "We need more of them, though, this is the last portion."

"I'll add it to the grocery list," Aaron mumbles, digging in his pocket for his phone, and you feel something warm and soft in your chest at the domesticity of it all. Your grocery list, your joint grocery list with the man you love. Food bought together, with shared funds and shared smiles across the shopping cart as an unnecessary bag of cookies is added to the cart.

"JJ thinks you're nicer now that we're together," You muse, munching on a cracker with dip smeared over its surface, "She says you smile more."

"I do," Aaron's eyes scrunch slightly with the force of the expression in question, "I bet Morgan doesn't feel that way."

"He does that to himself," You scoff, reaching over the desk to squeeze Aaron's arm, "He loves you, Aaron, he just likes teasing you. That's his way of showing it."

"I know," He assures you, "I just wish he wouldn't do it in the office."

"I bet he wishes we wouldn't do it in the office," You gnaw at your lower lip, remembering Derek's scandalized grimace when he'd forgone a knock at Hotch's office door last week. It had been a kiss, barely more besides wandering hands, but since then he's doubled his efforts to tease you two.

"I locked the door this time." Aaron chuckles, but falls silent with the weight of his words, "That is- if you want this time to be like last time. Or we could just eat, or-"

"Shut up," Your finger flies to Aaron's mouth, his eyes crossing to follow it as you press it to his lips, "I want you."

His chest shakes with a hearty chuckle at your brazen words, but he's more than happy to scoot his chair back from his desk to give you space to sit over his thighs. Your kiss tastes like the dip you've both been sharing, but the messier it gets, the more you lick and drool into his mouth the less potent it is. It doesn't take you long to feel a needy ache in your core that Aaron's bulge would satisfy, so you reach down to palm him through his pants.

"Jesus-" He hisses, eyes fluttering open to blink dazedly at you, "You- do you want- here? Now?"

"Yes here and now!" You nod vigorously, his face held in your hands, "I need you, Aaron, please."

His hands fly to his belt buckle with no further hesitation. You're eager to help, palming his cock through his boxers until it's sufficiently hard and tugging eagerly at the elastic waistband to free it. It's a mouthwatering sight, but you don't have time for that now, all you can manage on your lunch break is a quickie.

With mental plans made to suck him dry as soon as you cross the threshold of your apartment, you lift your hips, relishing in the way that his fingers prod at your barely-slick entrance to coax more lubrication out of your cunt.

"Just go," You beg, "There's no time, I- I'm wet enough."

"Okay." He hums, kissing your mouth where you pant against his own, "You sure you're ready?"

"Mhm! Yeah, I'm ready." You nod, letting him line up his cock with your entrance, "Aaron, please- hnngh!"

You bury your face in his shoulder at the slight sting of his dick, the pain eased when he pushes all the way in and the slickness that's accumulated deep inside gets distributed around your cunt. It's smoother then, and he's able to get a steady rhythm going with both his hips and yours as you ride him. He thrusts as best as he can and you pick up the slack by bouncing your hips, until you're biting into the soft silk of his tie to muffle your moans.

Your phone chimes. It's BeReal.

You've had a little more freedom since outing your relationship, your photos now of you and Aaron together rather than the grass beneath your feet and a carefully taken selfie that doesn't include your brooding boss.

But it's Aaron this time that lunges for the cell, your weight supported when his arm wraps around your thighs, and your legs encircle his waist. It's a startling change of position, and you're worried about falling, but he's surprisingly strong.

"Aaron!" You gush, your back aching when it's pressed against the corner of his desk, "Ow, don't-!"

"Sorry," He pants, hands falling to your hips and hips jerking backwards. His cock is no longer buried in your cunt and you mourn it's loss, but he manhandles your waist to turn you around, and you fall forwards against his desk. You catch yourself on your palms against the smooth wood, yelping as he shows no hesitation in lining his hips up with your ass and plunging his cock back into your pussy. He's thrusting from behind now, one hand latched onto your phone as he clicks the notification.

Your face barely suffices to unlock the phone, your expression warped in pleasure as Aaron takes you from behind. But the phone unlocks after only a moment's struggle, and Aaron eagerly loads the front camera.

"No porn," You warn him, "I- I don't need Reid seeing my- tits!"

"I'm not showing anyone your tits," He grunts, aiming the camera at your face just as your brow scrunches, and your mouth falls into a rosy ring, "I'm showing them your face."

"Aaron-!" You mewl, hearing the shutter of the camera as he takes his own picture, the saliva-ridden bite you'd left on his tie. There's a ring of darker fabric where your drool had seeped into the silk, and he's proud to showcase it alongside your pleasure-ridden expression.

"There," He tosses the phone back on the desk, perhaps harder than he should. He's simply overwhelmed with passion, the need to prove himself worthy of you. Derek's nagging comments eat at his brain, 'the short end of the stick.'

It doesn't look like you're suffering. His chest surges with pride as he stares at the photo he'd snapped of you, face contorted and riddled with bliss.

'Short end of the stick', he sneers, digging the expression into your back and nipping at the skin of your neck, you're nothing short of mindblown.

[foxintheferns]

For a Paul imagine: reader has a date night planned, and it would be the first time in a while. But, Paul forgets and switches patrol shifts with someone else. Reader waits up, but eventually realizes Paul forgot and goes to bed.

A/N: Thank you for this one, LOVED writing it. But ummmmmm it gets a lil spicy and they don’t even rly fight so I honestly failed at my own game. He’s just too persuasive, you know? Even the him that I create from my very own thoughts 🫣🙄

CONTENT WARNING: sexual implications, body licking/biting, heavy on the sexy vibez purrr

[All dressed up, just for me?]

The pack’s patrols have been endless lately. A small group of slightly-too-interested bloodsuckers had been circling in around the Olympic Peninsula, and had unfortunately plucked off a couple of fisherman who had been out on their boats right off the beach. Sam and Jacob wanted all hands on deck for perimeter patrolling, and your imprinted lover, Paul Lahote, was their right hand man. You couldn’t remember the last time that Paul had been home for more than a night in a row, and you’d gotten quite used to -although not happy with- the feeling of an empty bed. You and Paul hadn’t gone farther than a few handsy make-outs in over a week, with Paul typically passing out as soon as he was home and only being woken from his sleep with a phone call from Jacob, or a howl coming from the forest outside the house early in the morning. The other day, you’d expressed to Paul how much you felt you needed a date night.

Paul had been exhausted, home for the first time in two days and apparently barely coherent. “Yeah! Um…,” He had yawned, lazily stretching out his lanky, muscular body and throwing his arm around you as he laid next to you in the bed, “Let’s go to dinner…Saturday night, we can do uh - oh, dinner at the Riverside?”

He had scratched his head, his eyes blinking as he stared across the room at the TV playing a movie.

“That sounds amazing.” You had happily sighed against him, feeling reassured that Paul had seemingly made an effort. You knew he loved you so deeply, and you knew there was nothing that could ever pull him away from you, what with his imprinting causing him to only truly ever see you. But, at the end of the day, the Alpha’s commands came first, and if the pack needed Paul, he was there in a heartbeat. Those commands came so often lately that you weren’t sure Paul even had a moment to realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to you. You’d been helping around the reservation, going to your job at the local farmer’s market, and hanging out with Emily throughout the long days.

Emily had even asked you how you were holding up, noticing that you seemed a bit quiet when you were visiting her last week.

“What’s up, (y/n)? Everything going good with you and Paul?” she had inquired, her hawk-like eyes seeming to observe you quietly for the entirety of the time you spent kneading breaddough together at her and Sam’s kitchen table. You hadn’t met her eyes, slightly embarrassed that she had so easily seen through your facade of…okay-ness.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, no everything’s good,” You had proclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm, putting more force into your kneading as your internalized emotions presented themselves. Emily had stopped moving, staring at you intently from across the table. You had continued to knead your dough vigorously for several more moments, feeling her eyes burning into you, before you paused as well and finally looked up to meet her gaze.

“Okay…,” You mumbled, your shoulders slumping in defeat, “So everything is not good.” To your surprise, a wave of relief had washed over you as you finally said the words out loud. You had been going crazy, not entirely sure if the lack of affection and attention was in your head, or if you were being selfish, or if it was simply a reality you needed to accept as the pack’s Third in Command’s ‘imprintee’. Emily had nodded slowly, a knowing and empathetic smile creeping onto her lips.

“(y/n)… it’s not easy being an imprintee, I get it. Sam’s been gone every night, too. And if he’s not gone, he’s thinking about being gone, and thinking about who he needs to tell to go on shift. But it’s truly not a reflection of their love for us, I can promise you that.” She spoke in a soft and low voice, staring at you with her gentle brown eyes.

You shook your head, starting to poke at the bread dough again, “I don’t know, Em. It’s like he doesn’t even see me right now.”

She nodded understandingly, “Oh, (y/n),” She murmured, a sad and careful look in her eyes. “Because his soul is attached to yours so deeply, (y/n). You are part of him. He may genuinely, honestly forget that you are two separate beings sometimes, that you are a human who can’t hear his thoughts and know how deeply he loves you ALL the time. He may be so comfortable and happy with you that he forgets you aren’t part of the whole wolf thing, too. It sounds silly, but he’s still a man, after all, underneath all the magic and power.”

You smiled as you remembered Emily’s words, feeling more at ease as you prepared for your date with Paul. There’s nothing to worry about, you told yourself. You stared at your reflection in the mirror now, as you finished doing your hair. It was now Saturday evening, and you were waiting for Paul to finish his day shift. Dinner at the Riverside Restaurant - that was the plan for tonight. Paul had suggested it himself, so you felt reassured that tonight would be a good thing for the two of you. You were giddy with excitement, happy with how you look and looking forward to some long-awaited intimacy with him. You slid into a dress that Paul hadn’t seen yet, a silky spaghetti-strap number with a high leg slit up the right thigh, showing off a generous amount of long, toned leg. You decided to make it a bit more alluring and added a sparkly leg chain from your drawer, one you’d never worn, pulling it up and around your thighs and ass under the dress. You strode over to the floor length mirror in the corner of the room, nudging the dress down to sit perfectly against you, and adjusted your hair. You felt pretty. In fact, you looked pretty damn hot, and you knew without a doubt that Paul would think so too. He never failed to act shocked and overly impressed at your appearance, even when he woke up next to you every day and saw you at your greasiest, or most exhausted.

You grabbed your phone off the dresser next to the mirror, glancing at the time. 6:18pm. Paul usually gets off shift around 5:30, and you wondered for a brief moment if there could’ve been some emergency causing him to be late. Your face paled and you felt your heart rate increase the moment you let yourself consider he could be in danger. Nonetheless, his job was insanely dangerous, and it crossed your mind whether you liked it or not.

You quickly shot him a text.

Hey! Comin home soon?

You decided to try and busy yourself while waiting for him to arrive. You sprayed your favorite perfume on, checked your makeup and hair one last time, and went down the stairs of the cozy house. A crackling fire always helped you relax. You grabbed some of the wood Paul had carried inside the other day, and started to get a fire going in the living room fireplace. Paul had taught you quite well how to make a fire, and you were proud of yourself when you got it going relatively quickly. You lit your favorite candle as well, and decided you’d take the extra bit of time before Paul got home to clean up the house. You figured since he’s been so busy, and so tired, a clean place would be a nice gift for him to come home to. And, keeping your hands busy always helped time pass faster for you. Cleaning felt therapeutic at the moment. You got to work, vacuuming the living room, putting the clean dishes away, and throwing a load of laundry into the washing machine, folding and putting away the clothes from the dryer. You left your phone on loud, knowing that you’d either get a message from him or he’d walk through the front door any minute now. After you finished making the house nearly spotless, added another log onto the fire, and still hadn’t received a message from him, you decided to check the time again. Surprisingly, over an hour had passed, and it was 7:30. You were starting to worry.

You clicked Paul’s contact, calling him. After 6 rings, you heard the beginning of his voicemail - ‘I’m busy, you know what to do’ his gruff and cocky voice came through on the recording. You hung up before the beep, rolling your eyes. You stared down at your phone. Exhaling slowly, you tried to think of reasons why he wouldn’t be answering your text OR call, and would also be late for the date. You tried desperately to not let your mind go to horrible places, and decided to text Emily.

(Y/N): Hey Em- is everything okay with the boys? No answer from Paul, we had a date planned tonight.

Within the minute, Emily responded:

Emily: Sam stopped by only half an hour ago before he went back out, said everything was going fine… maybe call one of the boys? pretty sure Embry took tonight off, he’ll have his phone.

You stared down at her message for a few moments, relief washing over you once you realized that the pack wasn’t in any life threatening danger, but confusion hitting you in it’s place when you realized that that would mean there was nothing stopping Paul from getting home over an hour ago. You swallowed, trying to calm yourself. You flicked through your text conversations until you came to Embry’s name, and tapped the icons until you were calling him.

It rang twice, then Embry’s soft voice came through the phone speaker.

“(Y/n)! What’s up, honey?” Embry was always a sweetheart to you; all of the boys were. You knew they all loved you deeply, and it was hard for them not to - they could hear and feel all of the thoughts that Paul had for you.

“Hey! Um- just wondering, do you know where Paul is?? We had a date planned for tonight and he should’ve been home a while ago…,” You said into the phone, running your fingers through your long hair and starting to pace around the living room, your bare feet padding across the thick carpeted floor. You heard silence for a moment too long.

“Embry? You there?” You asked, unsure if you’d lost connection.

“Uh yeah, (y/n), sorry…I’m here. I, I-didn’t know you guys had a date… I asked Paul if we could trade shifts cuz it’s my Mom’s birthday tomorrow and she wanted to celebrate tonight. He said no problem and that he had nothing goin’ on. I’m sorry, if I’d known I would’ve never asked him,” Embry’s sympathetic voice came through the phone, and your heart dropped.

“Oh…,” you murmured, trying to push aside the sudden onset of shocked pain that washed over you, “No worries, Embry, it wasn’t your job to know about it. Thanks for telling me. I hope you guys have a nice celebration tonight… tell your Mom I said Happy Birthday, yeah?”

“Aw man, (y/n), I’m really sorry, I’m sure he just forgot, you know? He’s rly gonna hear it from me for this one, though, don’t you worry. The guy’s gonna wish he remembered…and yeah, thanks, I’ll tell my Mom,” Embry responded lightheartedly, his tone sincere.

You managed a light chuckle, “Thanks, Em - I’ll see you soon, have a good night.”

After you hung up with Embry, you stood for a moment in the same spot in the living room and let your arms fall, your phone slipping from your hand onto the couch. You felt just about everything you could feel: anger, hurt, betrayal, confusion, disappointment. Above all else though, you felt alone. You seemed to be chronically alone, lately. This was the one thing you’d asked for. After weeks of Paul prioritizing the pack, which you’d understood and had patience for, you had finally expressed that you missed him; that you needed this. That something was missing. You knew now that he hadn’t been truly hearing you. You exhaled loudly, falling back onto the couch dramatically, and stared at the loudly crackling fire in front of you. For a few minutes, you sat stuck in your thoughts, unsure what to do with yourself. Suddenly, your phone dinged loudly. You quickly reached for it, turning it upright to see the screen. You were slightly disappointed to see a text from Emily instead of Paul, your anxiety having built up as you sat in silence, but then felt comforted at the fact that your best friend was always in your corner.

Emily: Did Embry answer! Where’s Paul?

You sighed, reading the message, and began to type back.

(Y/N): Paul apparently gladly took Embry’s shift when he asked to trade. Said he had ‘nothing going on’

You saw the (…) bubble pop up, showing you that Emily had begun typing the moment your text sent.

Emily: Wtf. Paul can be such an airhead, I swear! I’m sure he forgot, (y/n), hope you don’t think for a second that he’d ever do that on purpose

(Y/N): Oh, I know. There just seems to be a lot of forgetting happening recently

:( wearing a new dress and everything

Emily: :( love you (y/n) <3 I bet you look bangin, lady! Call me if u need me okay? Maybe take a bath or something, do a self care night, ya know?

You almost smiled at Emily’s text, and would have if you weren’t feeling so defeated.

(Y/N): Love you Em

You tossed your phone again to the side and decided to throw a few more logs on the fire. You ambled into kitchen, poured yourself a glass of rosé and put your favorite show on, getting under one of the massive fluffy blankets and settling in to try to relax. By 10pm, you were strewn across the big couch, the warmth of the fire having lulled you into a gentle snooze.

You woke with a start to the feeling of hot hands on your skin.

“Baby”, you heard the deep, rough voice murmur against your ear, hot breath hitting your cheek. Your eyes slowly blinked open, and you could see Paul’s massive frame over you as he knelt in front of the couch, one hand on your waist and the other caressing the back of your head.

He pulled back and smiled an immensely apologetic smile, the hand on your waist squeezing gently.

“Hi, sleepy girl,” He said softly, his rich brown eyes gentle and bashful. You didn’t respond, your brain glitching, confused and tired as you tried to piece together why you were mad at him, a difficult task when the man sat right in front of you. His features became more troubled when you didn’t respond.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, (y/n).”

You stared back at him, still not answering, and noted his shirtless torso only inches away from your face. When you peeled your eyes away from the abs and back to him, you caught his gaze stuck on your bottom half, and looked down to see what he was staring at so intently. Oh, that’s right. The dress. The slit that ran up the side of your leg was open, your entire thigh and right buttcheek exposed, and a large portion of your bikini line being put on display. You were glad you’d shaved. The faux fur blanket covered the rest of you, your half-bent leg being the one thing sticking out from under the fluffy cover. His eyes were stuck, his gaze lingering on the body chain that wrapped around your thigh, sparkling and glinting in the glowing firelight.

“(Y/n)…,” He whispered, swallowing hard. You watched as his Adam’s apple lifted up, then fell back down with the movement. His breathing hitched, and he finally flicked his eyes back to yours. His features were serious now, his brows drawn together.

“You have to know that I didn’t mean to forget, baby. I truly, honest-to-god didn’t mean to. Embry shifted like 10 minutes ago when he got home from dinner with his Mom just to let me know that you’d called him, and I had like 5 missed calls from Emily once I shifted back and…God I feel awful, (y/n), I figured if I traded shifts with Embry tonight, I’d get tomorrow off and we could spend the whole day together I-…I am so so sorry.”

You looked down, not bothering to hold his apologetic eyes, and took your bottom lip between your teeth as you absorbed his words and thought.

He bent closer, his large hand leaving your waist to caress your face, both hands framing your head now.

“I know it’s more than that, too. There’s no excuse for tonight but… I know I’ve been neglecting you, baby. I realize that now. You’ve needed me and I haven’t been there. I haven’t been there for you and I’m so, truly sorry for that. I’ll do better, I will. It’s easy to forget sometimes that just because you and I have this eternal bond, that doesn’t mean I can just forget to show you I care. And I care, (y/n), I care so much. You are who I’m thinking about when I’m out there on patrol, when I’m protecting this town. You are what gets me up every day. You’re the most important thing in my life. You know that, right?”

Throughout Paul’s rambling monologue, you had lifted your eyes, finally meeting his intense brown orbs. He held your face, gently and quietly speaking his words, not pulling his gaze away from you even for a single moment. He had brought a smile to your lips at several points in his little speech, and you felt wetness begin to prick in your eyes at his words. He had felt it too. He knew something was off between you, too. You felt an emotional release at his acknowledgment of what you’d been holding in for weeks. You could feel his love, deep and primal, radiating from him- oozing from his very being.

He continued to stare, his eyes narrowing and his hands shaking you ever so gently.

“Answer me, (y/n). You know that, right?,” he repeated, his tone and face still serious, but a glimmer of playful energy in his eyes now.

You couldn’t help but break into a wide smile now, and a light giggle fell from your mouth. His face broke into a massive grin at the sound, and he planted a hard, wet kiss on your lips, his mouth soft & hot. He groaned very lightly into the kiss, then pulled back to stare at your face again, proceeding to plant quick and delicate pecks over and over, along your mouth and then your cheeks, around your temples, down your jaw and along your throat. He kept going until you were a giggling, squealing mess beneath him. His hands fell to your waist and he gripped you against the couch, holding you hostage as he continued attacking you with his lips. “Okay, okay! Stop!” You finally broke your silence, your breathless voice coming out in begging pleads as his kisses and strong hands held you captive. He pulled back, his dark eyes now filled with a new expression. It was one you recognized, and hadn’t seen in a while. His gaze fell, trailing down your throat and along your chest, moving downwards until it fell yet again on the exposed, supple skin of your thigh. His jaw suddenly tightened, and his tongue left his mouth briefly to swipe across his bottom lip.

“Christ, (y/n). I really missed out, huh?” His eyes were still on your legs, and his left hand reached out to let the tip of his middle finger drag along the skin of your thigh. “Never seen this dress before,” he muttered, lowering his head to leave soft, hungry kisses, beginning at your knee and moving up until he reached the inner side of the open slit. He flicked his gaze up to your eyes. “You got all dressed up, just for me?”

“Mmm, really should’ve remembered our date, huh Lahote?,” You responded smugly, a smirk on your face as you took in the view of his slightly desperate expression. His eyes darkened suddenly at your words, and he moved his mouth up your body, leaving kisses wherever he could find skin. Between kisses, he murmured deeply against you, his hot breath sending waves through your core. “And what were you planning on us doing after this date, (y/n)?” His eyes shot up to your face now as he lowered his mouth down to the top of your thigh, letting his hot tongue slowly drag across the exposed flesh. You felt your face flush and your heart begin to thump harder in your chest. With his keen wolf senses, you knew he could likely hear the change in your heartbeat, and your fear was confirmed when a mischievous chuckle left his mouth.

“Mmm, yeah. That’s what I thought…,” He squeezed your thigh with his hand, the muscles in his forearm flexing, “That’s what this dress was for, huh? Is that what you’ve really been needing?” His tone was soft, his deep voice babying you, the way that only Paul knew how. He nipped softly at the flesh on your inner thigh, another rough groan escaping his lips.

You decided he didn’t get to be rewarded for his mistake so easily, and snapped your legs closed, crossing your arms over your chest and furrowing your brows. His eyes snapped up to your face, his expression darkening again. He tsked; shaking his head and scowling slightly at you. When you remained still, your arms crossed and your chin lifted in defiance, he narrowed his eyes. Then, his features softened, and he lifted his massive body so that he completely hovered over you. Heat radiated from him, and you secretly ached for him. You wanted him to lower himself down, so that all of him was touching all of you. You stared up at his face, which was now only inches from yours. He could read you like a book; he knew forgiveness came easily to you. There was no fooling him - you knew he was very likely seeing the want in your eyes. He leaned in slowly, resting his soft lips against yours tenderly. When he pulled back, he gazed at you lovingly, now going along with your feigned hesitation and apparently, full of remorse again. Oh, the games this man sure can play.

“Baby…,” he whispered, leaning in against your ear, his hot tongue swiping along the delicate skin below it.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Can you forgive me?” His voice was rough, hunger for you laced throughout but with a tone that was now a beg, filled with a tangible desperation. You knew he’d do whatever it took to gain your forgiveness. And you were ready to let him beg for it for as long as you felt necessary.

A/N: I could totally go further with this. And perhaps, if I was asked nicely, I would 😏