#jj jareau fluff

[miedei]

nonexistent rizz

the team is shocked to see that… early seasons!spencer pulls?? and he has pulled???? (aka, the team discovers that early seasons!spence has a girlfriend)

a/n: first cm fic!!! super indulgent, deffo way longer than it had to be but I don’t care, I love love love the dynamic of the s1/s2 team and I NEEDED to write it (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), completely inaccurate early 2000s technology i think, cuties being cute, not edited in any way

wc: 2k

part two | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

“‘O Keefe’s! My wonderful, wonderful sweethearts, we are going out!” The moment the team steps out of the elevator, Penelope is bombarding them, hands moving wildly as words seem to tumble out of her mouth. “And yes, Hotch, I am sure we have no cases lined up yet, and yes, I’m sure JJ can corroborate that the moment she gets to her office and no, you may not stay behind, tonight is compulsory. That stands for you too, Gideon!”

Hotch hasn’t even opened his mouth, shaking his head in defeat as he takes in Garcia’s determined face. Under the watchful eyes of the team, his shoulders slump, a tired hand scrubbing down his face. “Fine. We all have to finish our reports, but if we’re all done in half an hour, we can go. Gideon?” He turns his face, hoping for Gideon to find a way to bunk off, but there’s a glint of amusement in the older man’s eye. “Sounds like there’s no getting out of it.” With that, he walks off, to his office. 

Penelope whoops excitedly, “Okay! That means we’re all going! That’s the first time since Gideon came back,” but her face sets slightly when she meets Spencer’s eye. “No. No, Baby Genius, you will not do this to me,”

“Garcia, I have pl-” “No! You are coming out with us, and we’re going to have a great time, and whatever Russian indie film you were going to watch will still be there for you tomorrow. Okay? No more complaining, baby, you know I won’t listen.” With a pat on his shoulder, she flounces off. Defeated, he doesn’t move from the elevator area, shrugging helplessly when Elle, JJ and Morgan brush past him to the bullpen. 

With a sigh, he takes out his phone, pressing his newly-programmed speed dial and bringing the phone to his ear. From Derek’s vantage point in the bullpen, he can see Spencer, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator doors, and he can see the moment whoever is on the other side picks up. The younger man’s face lights up, like when he’s on the receiving end of a rare Hotch smile out in the field, but more spirited, buoyant. Only snippets of the conversation float in through the slightly-ajar glass doors, but they’re enough to give him pause, and still his fingers above his keyboard.

“...Garcia’s got this plan for us all, and…”

“Yes, I know, I do like going out with them, but that’s not what I wanted to do…”

“...I took the metro tonight, so I think I’ll just… Really? You want to?”

At that point, Spencer turns, his voice muffling, and keeping Derek from his vested interest in his conversation. But what little he heard is more than enough to pique his interest. He flicks a pencil onto Elle’s desk. “Greenaway. You know if pretty boy’s mom is in town or something?” Elle looks up from her monitor, head tilting, “Not that I know of. Besides, doesn’t she not like flying? I don’t think he’d have her come here. Why do you ask?”

Derek doesn’t reply, simply gesturing to the glass doors, where Spencer is walking inside, his mouth twitching to conceal his smile. His steps are measured, like he’s trying to feign calm. He settles at his desk, hunching his back in a way that can’t be comfortable, typing rapidly as his knee jiggles up and down. Elle turns back to Derek, eyes wide with wonder. 

“That is not how you look getting off the phone with your mother.”

The incident is quickly forgotten, however, when the BAU team are crammed into a booth in the back of the low-lit bar. Penelope has roped Hotch into helping her bring drinks back from the bar, and the rest are speaking a little too loudly, arms flinging and bumping into the empty glasses littering the table. 

All except for Gideon, who, despite having had three glasses of whiskey, is still just as calm and observant as he is fully sober. It is this that causes him to zero in on Spencer, sitting across from him, sandwiched between Morgan and the newly-returned Garcia. 

There’s a pink flush across his high cheekbones, and he’s incredibly giggly, all things that are completely expected for him, a few drinks in. However, what the experienced profiler picks up on, are his darting eyes. Spencer can often be found staring into the middle distance, or, since Gideon taught him the importance of building rapport with victims and officers alike, trained steadily on the space between someone’s eyebrows, but this time it’s different.

His eyes flick to whoever’s talking, feigning interest, but every few seconds, it turns back down to his lap, where something is clutched in the hand he keeps under the table. If it were Hotch, Gideon would know with absolute certainty that he was watching his phone, waiting for a text from Haley.

But this is Spencer. The youngest person he knows. The youngest person he knows whose technological knowledge is somehow worse than Gideon’s own. What on earth would have Spencer acting- 

Oh. Gideon nearly gasps at Spencer’s movements. On his fifteenth peek down at his lap, Spencer stiffens, then draws his hand up from his lap to get closer to his face. It is his phone, and Spencer Reid has somehow learned to text as quickly as Morgan does. His thumbs fly over the buttons on his phone, and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads on his face.

Gideon’s eyes furrow, and he can’t hold back from nudging Hotch’s shoulder, pointing in Spencer’s direction. Hotch pulls himself away from his conversation with JJ, and Gideon can see his expression morph from mild interest, to confusion, to complete bewilderment. After a beat, his face turns to meet Gideon’s and his normally stoic demeanor is shaken, eyes wide. 

Spencer, however, doesn’t even notice his mentors’ faces, still tapping away at his phone and craning his neck to look around the bar. 

It’s a while later, when JJ has pulled the team (minus Hotch and Gideon) onto the dance floor, a few drinks past tipsy at this point. She’s laughing out loud, holding Elle’s hand and twirling her under her arm. Penelope and Derek are mock-waltzing, bursting into laughter every few steps, and Spencer… 

JJ pauses for a moment, before Elle pulls her into moving again. Her head whips around, trying to find Spencer, before giving up. He must be back at the table with Hotch and Gideon, he was never very comfortable dancing anyway. 

The four on the dance floor quickly devolve into a mess, swapping partners until they’re all dizzy and laughing. JJ and Penelope are shimmying back and forth together, when Penelope gasps a little, tapping JJ’s arm without ceasing her movements. “Jayj! Look, see that girl at the bar?” She gestures subtly at a younger woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing a purple wrap top that has JJ sighing wistfully. 

“Pen, I think I’ve seen my soulmate. Would it be weird for me to crawl over there and beg her for her shirt?” Penelope giggles, gripping JJ’s forearms so they can sway to the music dramatically. “Just a little, my sweet. How about we go ask her where it’s from, though? I think that would be a little more…” She goes uncharacteristically silent, and it has JJ twisting to see what shut her up. However, Penelope tightens her grip on her arms, keeping her from moving. 

“JJ. My love, my heart. You’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?” Now she’s worried. JJ nods quickly, deciding to just focus on Penelope. “Yeah, Garcia, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m seeing things, and you are one of the most qualified people in the world to tell me if I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn us around, and you’re going to look at the woman in that gorgeous top, and you are going to either scream, or send me off to Hotch for a psychological evaluation.” Her tone is serious, hushed, and JJ nods solemnly. 

The intricate plan is conducted, and JJ is now facing the bar, her eyes searching for the girl, when she stiffens, sucking in a breath. “Yes! I’m not crazy, you see it right? What is going on!” Penelope smacks her arm repeatedly, but JJ can’t tear her eyes away from it. It being something she couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for, not in her wildest imaginations.

The girl is sitting on a barstool, sipping at a cocktail, and chatting to… Spencer. Spencer, the BAU’s Spencer, child-prodigy-lovable-dork-awkward-mess Spencer Reid, is stood in between her legs, smiling down at Mystery Girl without a hint of fear. It’s devastatingly sweet, his eyes soft in a way she’s never seen before, as he nods along with whatever she’s saying. Penelope jolts her out of her trance with a tap to the arm, JJ whispering, “He’s so… carefree.” 

That’s the only way to describe it. He’s looking down at her, eyes locked onto hers, and he’s still. His hands aren’t tapping, his leg isn’t shaking. He’s just looking at her. 

JJ can feel Morgan and Elle huddle near her, questioning Penelope about what they’re looking at, before shutting up as they see it. She hears them take twin gasps, and huddle even closer. They stand in silence, surely a hindrance to the people dancing, but they can’t tear themselves away. 

It’s only when Spencer shatters their worlds once more that they finally find themselves able to move. Four pairs of eyes follow him, as he leans even further towards Mystery Girl, and they all bulge at once when he raises a hand, carding his fingers through her hair. Penelope whispers, “oh my god”, Elle grips JJ’s arm in a vice grip, and Derek makes an unseemly noise, before gripping their arms, tugging them back to the booth. 

They collapse in the seats, faces pale as they look at each other, next to a very confused Gideon and Hotch. 

“What? What is it?” Hotch questions them, brow furrowed deeply. None of them speak, however. Only Elle lifts a weak hand to point. She directs their attention to the sight at the bar, and they all turn back to it, gasping once again. They’re… “kissing,” Derek breathes, shocked. Hotch and Gideon stiffen, but still crane their heads until their eyes fall on what has rendered their highly trained team speechless. And their reactions are just as silent.

Mystery Girl has stood up, her arms around Spencer’s neck, and he’s leaned down to meet her lips, hands braced on her hips. It’s honestly not that scandalous, a lazy, casual kiss that they part from with twin smiles, but the FBI agents can’t handle it. They don’t say a word, straining their ears to hear whatever she is saying as he holds her hand (Penelope lets out a squeak at that), and walks with her towards the door, not even noticing that his coworkers have returned to the booth. Her voice is low, but Hotch manages to pick up a few of the words. 

“...go home and watch that movie I was telling you about? Metropolis, I think you’ll really…” And they’re off. Spencer Reid has left a bar, holding hands with a girl (that he’s apparently spoken to multiple times? Who refers to a place as home for both of them?), acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

The group sits in silence, unable to muster a comment, when Penelope’s phone buzzes. She checks it, and silently turns the screen over so they can all read it. 

BOY GENIUS: Hey Garcia. I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go home. See you Monday :-)

“What?”

[forhappysake]

We're Okay

A/N - Guys idk where this came from. I guess I'm just feeling emotional and inspired.

Content - After JJ admits her decade-long love for Spencer, you and your boyfriend have to have a conversation to calm both of your doubts and fears.

Warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, season 14 spoilers, anxiety, mentions of typical BAU-level crime stuff, fluff at the end

You walked in the door slowly, cautionary even; afraid the smallest noise would bring reality crashing down on you. The car ride home had been completely silent, as neither of you bothered to turn on the radio. Spencer shuffled in behind you, the click of the lock making you wince as you did your best to avoid his gaze. You stripped off your coat, throwing it over the couch before walking straight into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you. 

As you started the shower and stripped off your clothes, the evening’s events rushed back into your mind. Being involved in a hostage situation with an unstable unsub was one thing. JJ being held at gunpoint was worse. However, as if all that wasn’t enough, JJ admitting her decade-long hidden love for Spencer was the final nail in the coffin. As you climbed into the shower, you did your best to let the water wash away the thoughts running through your head. 

Unfortunately, your attempt was unsuccessful. As you dried off and wrapped yourself in a towel, your mind raced. You’d been dating Spencer for nearly a year and a half. The two of you had just recently moved in together. Having known him and JJ for at least half a decade, you knew they were close, but you never would have guessed this was coming. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way she did. If so, what did this mean for your relationship?

After stalling in the bathroom for so long that goosebumps dotted your freshly dried body, you mustered up the courage to slip out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that you shared with Spencer. As you walked across the hallway, you could see his silhouette sitting on the living room couch, head bent forward. You couldn’t tell if he was reading or in deep thought, but you decided that either option was better than the alternative: trying to have a conversation. 

You snuck into the bedroom, gently turning on the bedroom light and letting your eyes adjust to the warm glow of your room. You meandered to the closet, pulling out a simple t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. Slipping into your pajamas and stealing a glance at yourself in the vanity mirror, you noticed one of the many images covering the tabletop. 

A framed photograph from less than a year ago of JJ, Will, Spencer, and yourself with the boys on a weekend hiking trip. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest and wondered if Will had any idea what was going on in JJ’s head. You shook the thought away, reminding yourself that you had bigger problems of your own to deal with. You turned back to the bed, sliding under the covers and turning off the light. Despite your distress, you were exhausted and you found yourself losing track of time and drifting off to sleep in mere minutes. 

*  *  *

You awoke to the sound of the bedroom door latching shut. You rolled over, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to sneak a peak at your bedside alarm clock. You’d already been asleep for three hours and Spencer was just now coming to bed. It was well after midnight, and you knew that meant he had been up thinking about something. You figured it would be best not to push the subject after everything that had happened. 

With your eyes shut, you waited to feel the familiar sensation of Spencer climbing into bed. Instead, you felt his weight at the foot of the bed, as if he had perched himself on the end. You tried not to think much of this and did your best to fake sleep. However, it soon became apparent that Spencer was on to you. 

“I know you’re awake,” he said gently. His voice was gruff from the hours he’d spent in silence. Spencer waited before speaking again, “I think we should talk about what happened.” 

There it is, you thought. Your stomach sank as your eyes fluttered open. You rolled over to face him, leaning up on your arms. It was then you noticed that he was still in his suit. His unkempt hair fell over his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the disheveled man in front of you. “Alright,” you relented, still refusing to meet his eyes, “what do you want to talk about?”

Spencer rolled his neck, tension evident in his movements. “I want to know how you feel about what was said earlier,” he said. For the first time in hours, you met his eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. You found no signs of dishonesty, so you fell back on the bed, letting out a dramatic sigh. 

“I don’t know, Spencer,” you groaned. “I definitely was surprised. I definitely wasn’t thrilled.” Spencer nodded, moving some hair away from his eyes as you spoke. “But,” you started again, “it’s not like we can go back and change it now.” 

He reached an arm out, putting a hand over the covers on top of your knee. “I know,” he whispered, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

You scoffed a bit at his sincerity and his innocence, meeting his eyes once more. “And how do you feel about it?” you asked. 

Spencer bit his lip in thought. You could tell you had caught him off guard with the question, and he seemed to be calculating his response. “Can I be honest with you?” he said. 

You raised your eyebrows, the nervous feeling in your stomach intensifying. Is this where he tells you he feels the same way and leaves for good? You pushed your thoughts to the side. “Always,” you whispered.

He sighed, laying back on the bed so he was next to you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you wanted nothing more than to curl into his warmth. You knew this wasn’t the time, so you held yourself back and held your breath, awaiting his response. 

“First, I was confused,” Spencer explained, eyes locked on the ceiling. “I haven’t thought about JJ like that in over ten years. Frankly, I never knew she thought of me that way, so I was caught off-guard.” 

So he did have a crush on her at one time, you thought. You were ready to close your eyes in defeat, to slip off the bed and out of the apartment and never come back when he cleared his throat. 

“But then,” he started once more, “I had a quick epiphany of all the moments she’d gone out of her way for me, and I could understand where she was coming from.” You turned to look at him, watching his eyes scan the ceiling as he tried to come up with his next statements. 

“And?” you asked, prompting him to continue. 

“And then,” he continued your previous statement, “I was terribly appalled.” 

Your head, which had turned to the ceiling, snapped back in his direction. You felt your eyebrows raise and your jaw drop open a bit in surprise. “Appalled?” you asked, confusion evident in your expression. 

“Appalled,” Spencer echoed, sitting up on the edge of the bed once more and looking back at you. 

“Why?” you asked. 

Spencer shook his head, looking around the room. “I’ve been thinking about that for the last couple hours, and I’ve come up with a lot of reasons,” he mused. “I know she was in a tight place, but Will deserves better than that. The boys deserve better than that. But aside from them,” he leaned over on the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you must have thought. I was so afraid of your reaction and of losing you.”

Despite your evident emotional state as tears pooled in your eyes, you tried to play it off. “Spencer, this isn’t about me,” you reminded him. 

“Yes,” he said, lying next to you, “it is.” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, pulling some curls out of his eyes. “Everyone knows how much I love you. I know how scary something like this can be. But you have to know that I have no idea where this came from and that anything JJ and I had died, on my end, long before I ever met you.” 

You glanced over at him, the sincerity in his voice had moved you to believe him. For a moment, you forgot about JJ and Will, the boys, and the implications of her words. You offered his fingers a small squeeze. “So we’re okay?” you asked in a tiny voice. 

“More than,” Spencer whispered. 

He rolled on his side to face you and you mirrored his actions. He wrapped his arms tight around your body, the textured material of his suit jacket pressed against your cheek. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead and you found yourself falling back into sleep. After several minutes passed, you felt Spencer’s voice rumble through his chest for a final time before he succumbed to sleep: “Ever since I met you,” he mumbled, smoothing some stray hairs away from your face, “it’s always been you.”

[petrichoravis]

So professional. | s.r.

★ read PART TWO here.

summery: when the team finally has a break through in a case that seemed endless and you and Spencer are assigned to search an abandoned laboratory together, old feeling come to the surface.

word count: 7,3k (it got away from me, sorryyy)

what to expect: ex!spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, kinda like lovers to "enemies" to ??, a lot!! of banter, morgan calls r 'doll', 'princess' and 'sugar', criminal minds typical violence; torture, shooting, gunshot wound, parental/domestic abuse (abusive father/husband), hyporeflexia (the absence of reflexes), medical inaccuracies? I’m sure, English is not my first language.

a/n: aaaa this is so far out of my comfort zone!! I hope you’ll enjoy this while I’ll go into hiding🙈🙈

────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

This case was endless until it wasn't. Until everything happened so quickly, all at once.

All of the victims had been burned to the point that the ME couldn't figure out the cause of death, until Eleven year old Amilie Porter was found on the side of the road by a passerby.

She had been cold and traumatised and wouldn't speak to anyone, so they brought her to the hospital, who alerted the police that then called you. The BAU.

Now, Spencer and JJ were crouching next to her hospital bed to seem less intimidating. Everything was going great, she wasn't speaking, but engaged in the conversation by nodding or shaking her head to their questions.

Until Amilie accidentally grabbed the mug of hot tea JJ handed her by the burning hot part, but instead of flinching she just held it there, as if it wasn't burning her fingers.

"Woah, hey hey hey!" Spencer took the cup from her before any more damage could be done. "Careful, that's still hot."

But his squeaked comment only made Amilie retreated into herself.

"Sorry, I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Did—" he frowned, he wasn't been sure how to ask her what he wanted to ask, given that she was eleven and still in shock.

"Did you not feel how hot that was?" He asked gently.

Amilie only nodded.

"Yes, you didn't feel how hot it was?"

She shook her head.

"So…you felt it, but didn't pull back?" He was trying his best not to come across as too impatient, keeping his voice low and soft.

He went on as she agreed to the question, "Let me ask you this, Amilie. Did—did the bad man do this?"

When Amilie nodded her head in answer to his question, Spencer glanced up at JJ, nodding as well. He could tell Amilie was exhausted and needed rest, his questions were probably not helping much.

He didn't blame her for being unresponsive, what happened to her must have been enough to traumatise a person with a fully developed brain. He could only calculate what damage it had done and will do to her life.

JJ's voice brought him back into the glaringly white hospital room. "Thank you, Amilie, you helped us very much. We're going to call the nice nurse back in, okay?"

She took Amilie's turning away from them as a yes and they made their way to the reception desk. After they were sure that the nurse was on her way, they walked back to the car.

"What did you see?" She asked him as they walked out of the hospital, onto the parking lot. Sirens were coming from every direction, so they had to speak a little louder.

"Wait—can you drive? I'll call the team." Spencer said, already pulling out his phone and dialling the first contact.

Which, unfortunately, was you.

"Reid? What did she say?" Your voice was usually distant, as if you were scared that letting any emotion into you voice would break the dam.

He pressed a hand over his ear to hear you better.

You see, when you and Spencer got together, you had to promise Hotch that you would stay professional when you would break up. A great prophecy for the rest of your relationship, right? Having to talk about your hypothetical breakup on the first official day of your relationship.

Both of you really tried to stay professional, but working with an ex was hard enough, working with an ex you haven't really talked it out with was harder.

"I think he might be torturing the victims until they loose their reflexes." He clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked the car door, holding it open for JJ, handing her the keys and getting into the passenger seat after she was securely in the car.

"Hyporeflexia? Do you—wait let me put you on speaker." There was shuffling on the other side of the phone. "You have Hotch and I. Do you know how he does it?"

"No. I have theories, but nothing concrete. There are a few ways to accomplish the absence of reflexes, drugs like K779 or Leuprorelin, for example. But I doubt he is using a drug, it would have shown up on the toxicology report and the chances of these drugs causing Hyporeflexia are too slim."

"What's your guess?" Hotch piped up.

"Well I think he might be damaging their nervous system. You see, motor neutrons send messages between the spinal cord and brain. Collectively they send messages to the rest of your body to control muscle movements. It's possible that the UnSub is damaging the sensory nerves, spinal cord or motor nerves to cause hyporeflexia." He rambled off the facts and you could practically see the wild gesturing of his hands.

"How is the girl?" You asked.

"She's quiet, but in good hands," he reassured you. "She'll be okay in no time."

"Are you on your way back?" Hotch asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes. We're driving to you now."

"Drive safely." You said, purely for performance purposes.

"I'm not driving." He replied dryly.

"That's why it was meant for JJ."

"She always drives safely." You tried not to roll your eyes as Spencer just hung up.

Being professional when the person you used to plan your future with was now your worst enemy was hard. And while you might spite him a lot, you were sad about it more than you were angry.

But anger always came easier to you than admitting to yourself and him that the break up really hurt you, that you want nothing more than to be friends if you couldn't have him as a partner. You wanted to hold him in your arms again, to fall asleep to his heartbeat every night.

You couldn't tell anyone that, of course, your pride would be in shambles.

So you took a deep breath and turned back to Hotch.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

When Spencer and JJ got back to Quantico the team reassembled for the briefing. Everyone shared their thoughts and theories and Spencer explained what had happened at the hospital.

"Um…I know that there is a poison called curare, it's won from various plants and causes paralysis by binding to the acetylcholine receptor of the junction where two nerve cells dock together and therefore prevents nerve impulses from activating skeletal muscles. Could it be something like that?" You asked into the room.

Spencer was quiet for a moment and you're unsure whether he was impressed by your knowledge or just thinking really hard about the possibilities. "Well, we obviously can't tell because the bodies are burnt. But it's unlikely that he is using curare, given that Amilie wasn't paralysed, but developed Hyporeflexia."

Never mind, he was just thinking of a polite way to say, you're so far from the point, stupid.

"Right. So what do you think?" You almost added oh almighty! but were able to stop yourself. Because you're professional.

"As I already said," he gave you a look, "he is probably damaging the nervous system."

"Right, sorry. I meant, how is he doing that?" You had been able to sound so unfazed until this moment.

"I don't know," he frowned at you, as if his answer was obvious (you would like to state that it was not), "or I would have shared it already."

The team was nice enough not to comment on your little dispute, but it's clear that it was getting on their nerves. Especially Hotch, who was looking more stoic than usual, Morgan was finding it more amusing than anything.

"I'll get Garcia to search for similar occurrences in the area." You said quickly, already hurrying out of the room and away from the pending lecture.

Spencer watched you scurry off with a sinking feeling in his gut.

He didn't know why he bitt like a wounded dog every time the two of you spoke. He would like to think that it was because he just genuinely didn't like you anymore, but he knew that wasn't true. Hating you would be easier than this.

On the other side of the office, you ripped open door of Penelope Garcia's office and slammed it closed behind you, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh.

Penelope startled upright, turning her swivel chair to look at you with wide eyes. "Well, hello. Are you alright?"

"No," you whined dramatically. "All of this is so incredibly fucking fucked."

"Oh, love," she patted the place next to her. "He, who shall not be named again?"

You nodded, slumping into the chair. "He's just so—I just feel so…ugh. All we do is spite each other. When will this get easier?"

She looks at you with so much pity, you can't stand it. "I'm not going to tell you that it will pass with time, because, well…" She gave you a look that said nothing less than because you're quite dramatic, over the rim of her glasses.

While you huffed in response, you couldn't quite find a good argument that spoke against her unspoken statement, so your mouth stayed closed. But you didn't refrain from sending her a glare.

"What?" She asked innocently, if anything about Penelope Garcia can ever be called innocent.

You gave her a look. "Constructive criticism? Didn't we just talk about that?"

"I didn't even say anything! It's not my fault that you interpreted something into my very lovely face."

You decided that this was totally fruitless, your fault for thinking that you had a friend in her. "Can you look into past histories of people with hyporeflexia? Anything you can find. People who have been diagnosed with it in the past…let's say fifteen years, suspicious reports of it, someone being especially interested in it, maybe a lot of it happening in one area. You know the drill."

"Yep, totally, ma chère. One sec." She turned her chair towards the computer screen and began working her magic.

After what feels like three seconds—thank God for Penelope's speed on the keyboard and swift fingers—she piped up, "Hyporeflexia is quite a rare official diagnosis, so I cross referenced it with torture or unnatural causes and I found," a few more mouse clicks. "…a Theodore Wilson, who has been in and out of the hospital for severe burns and bruises a lot when he was young."

Frowning, you lean over Penelope's shoulder to look at the screen. "And that's relevant because…?"

"That, my gorgeous girl," she booped your nose with her fluffy pen and you scrunched your nose. "Is because they look suspiciously similar to our victims and…" She paused for dramatic effect. "Theodore's father was a biochemist best known for his research on Hyporeflexia."

You frown deepened. "Is his father still alive?"

A few clicks later, Penelope replied, "Nope." She popped the p. "He died last month, but Theo's mother still lives in Virginia."

"If we consider Theodore a suspect, his father's passing could have been the stressor. Thank you, Pen. Could you—"

"The address is sent to your phone." She smiled up at you as you got up and walked towards the door. "But don't think our talk about you-know-who is over!" She sing-songs just before you could leave.

You rolled your eyes. The nicknames were getting excessive.

"I can't hear you!" You called back just before closing the door behind you.

You froze when you turned and saw the team gathered in the bullpen area. "Um," you glanced at Spencer for just a millisecond to see how much he has heard, but his face seemed impassive. Looking back at your unit chief, you continued, "Penelope found a lead."

Hotch nodded for you to continue and you made your way closer to the group. Recognition flickered across Spencer's face at the name Don Wilson, but he said nothing as you continued to explain what Penelope found.

"Penelope send the address of his mother to me already." You said as you finished.

"Do you think he might be the first victim or the UnSub?" Hotch asked.

"Possibly both. That's what I'd like to find out by talking to the mother." You replied, taking the last steps towards the team.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you accompany her."

Great, just what you needed. Relentless teasing from Derek Morgan, fun!

The devil grinned. "Let's do this, doll."

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

You ignored Morgan the whole drive.

No, seriously, you didn't say a word to him besides giving him the directions. Of course that only stroked the fire.

When you finally did arrive at the house of Theodore's mother, you felt like you had just taught a class of first graders.

Morgan was in the middle of something like, "—come on, we're all waiting to hear what happened between you and pretty boy—" when you got out of the car and slammed the door shut. You couldn't stand to listen to even one more second of it.

But of course he just continued after exiting the car, too. "That bad, huh?"

If you didn't know any better, you might have thought there was some pity in that comment. "It's fine. And also really none of your business."

"You and Reid are kind of making it everyones business, princess."

Rolling your eyes at his statement, you sped up your steps along the gravel path. The faster you got to the door, the faster Morgan had to get into work mode and could finally stop behaving like an assho—

The door opened unexpectedly.

"Oh," an elderly woman—she must have been in her late sixties—startled back at the sight of the both of you. She had shoulder length red-brown hair that was frizzy and clearly not washed for at least two weeks. Her hands were fiddling with a button of her worn down brown cardigan.

Undoubtedly the woman you saw on the picture on Penelope's computer.

You quickly pulled out your badge, animating Morgan to do so as well. "Mrs. Wilson? We're with the FBI. My apologies if we startled you."

"The FBI?" She frowned, clutching her cardigan tightly around herself like an armour. "Why would the FBI come to my house?"

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that your son might be involved in the case we are investigating right now." You said carefully, not knowing how much she could handle before having a heart attack.

"What? No, that—that's ridiculous! He—he…" she seemed to have forgotten what she was saying, now studying the ground for dirt.

Morgan and you glanced at each other. This was going to be difficult.

"Ma'am?" Morgan tried again. "Could we come in?"

She frowned up at him. "Yes, yes, of course. How rude of me." She made a sound that could have been a laugh as much as it could have been a sob.

"Make yourselves at home, dears. Oh, my apologies it's a little messy." She hurried across the room, gathering scraps of fabric and dirty dishes.

"Uh," you weren't sure how to say this politely, but you were in a rush and sour mood.

Luckily, Morgan saved you from having to come up with something polite. "Mrs. Wilson, we'd like to ask you some questions about your son, Theodore, if that is alright with you?"

"Oh, Theo," he fingertips touched her lips and her eyes welled up a little. It was a nostalgia only a mother could feel. "We—we don't talk a lot anymore, now that he is at university."

You frowned. There had been no evidence of Theodore being at university. "What is he studying?"

The woman seemed frozen in her thoughts. "Physics. No, that's not right…Chemistry, yes. He is studying chemistry at Princeton. He told me that."

You gave Morgan a signal to fact check that with Penelope and he left the room, leaving you to talk to Mrs. Wilson alone.

"Did he always like chemistry?"

"Yes, yes. When he was young, he always used to…no, I think that was biology." She laughed almost hysterically. "Can't keep up with that boy. So many talents."

Bingo. Biochemistry. His father's influence, no doubt. And it fit the theory of Theodore taking on his father's murderous tendencies. Just a little more and you had him.

"Was there any particular niche he was particularly interested in?"

"Yes, but…but I don't remember. You see, Don, my husband—Theo's father, he would know. He—he was the one who always went to the laboratory with Theo."

Laboratory? You froze at the mention of a possible secondary location. Double bingo, a place to hide the victims and possibly burn them. A place where his father could have taught him his ways, pass the torture down like some families might pass down jewellery.

"This lab," you asked cautiously, not wanting to come across too pushy or desperate (which you very much were). "You don't happen to know where it is?"

"Oh, it's abandoned now, run down, I'm certain. They stopped going there after Don got sick…" she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes fogging up with grief.

You doubted that he just stopped going, but she didn't need to know that. "Is it possible that you find out where it is located?"

She nodded, mumbling something about a postcard before disappearing into another room.

Morgan came back from the hallway.

"There is no record of him at Princeton. No pay checks, nothing." He whispered to you.

That was to be expected. You just nodded.

All of this left you with a horrible, nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. This woman had lost everything—her husband, her son, her sanity—but the hope she clung to was that her son was in university, building a life of his own, making a name for himself.

Now you were working on destroying that hope. It might ruin her entirely. Irrevocably.

She came back a second later, a postcard in her hands. "That's the address, I think." She held it out to you.

But as you went to grab it, fingers closing around it, she didn't let go, keeping a tight grip on it. Like a lifeline. Like a part of her knew, that if she let you have it, there was no going back to the normal she once knew.

"Mrs. Wilson…?" You tested carefully.

She startled. "Oh! I'm sorry." She let the paper go. "Here you go. I hope it helps with your…"

Her face creased up, thinking hard of a reason why two FBI agents could be in her house, asking for her perfect son who was studying chemistry in Princeton.

Morgan, ever the escape artist, waved politely, "You have been very helpful, Ma'am. We best be going then, have a nice day."

"Yes, yes, of course. You must be busy kids." But just as you stepped through the door, feet just hitting the gravel, she called after you. "Agents?"

Both of you turned. "Yes?" You asked politely.

"My son, when you visit him at Princeton, could—could you tell him I was sorry?"

"Of course, Ma'am." You let your voice trail off, hoping she would clarify what she was apologising for.

Mrs. Wilson leaned against the door with one hand, as if stabilising herself. "We had a fight, you see. The night before he left for Princeton. I never got to apologise to him."

You were tempted to ask what the fight was about, but you held back. It might be important for the case, but not enough to dig up the rotten bones. "Of course. We will tell him, Mrs."

"Thank you—thank you. Tell him I love him, too, would you be so kind?"

You nodded. "Of course."

Morgan and you walked away, then. Leaving the woman behind.

You didn't recall reaching the car, didn't recall Morgan unlocking it and even holding open the door for you to climb in. Too deep in the past, too caught up in the future.

The conversation with the mother affected you more than you'd like to admit. A fight could ruin so many relationships, it could make you go crazy, make you say things that caused you to drift further and further apart. Until you didn't know each other at all anymore, but you still clung to the past yous that you once were.

You only came to yourself when you felt the seat under you, when the engine started to hum.

"We had a fight." You mumbled as Morgan reversed out of the parking space.

"What?" He looked over at you shortly, confused. He couldn't recall having fought with you.

"Spencer and I. We fought. That's why we broke up."

Morgan felt a little like laughing. "You broke up because of a fight? Must have been one hell of a fight, then. The both of you were always so inseparable."

When you didn't laugh or react, Morgan glanced over at you again. You looked sad, in thought. With a big pout-slash-frown on your face, fingers fiddling with the sleeves if your button up.

"Hello? Earth to earthling?" He waved a hand in front of your face.

"Sorry." You glanced up at him. "I don't know why I brought it up, I don't like talking about it."

Bless him, Morgan's face softened a little. He wasn't heartless enough to keep teasing you when you clearly had a hard time. Well, okay, he had his moments.

"You don't have to talk about it."

"No, it's okay. We—We fought a lot, leading up to the break up. Silly things like the dishes, different opinions on different things.…The real issue was this job, though." You swallowed around the urge to bolt.

"The job?"

You nodded. "We brought it home with us, made it the centre piece of our relationship."

Morgan winced. It was the mistake every agent was afraid to make when entering a relationship.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "I know. But you know us, we work, that's just who we are."

"Workaholics." Morgan coughed to lighten the mood.

In any other situation you would have dug your elbow into his side, scowled at him. But not in this one.

"It got too much in the end. The fear, the paranoia. We just…snapped. We talked it out, funnily enough that conversation was quite calm. Though we were naive enough to think we could stay friends." You sniffed.

It surprised him, to find out you were struggling so much in the past months leading up to your break up. "You always seemed so happy at work. Everyone agreed when I said you two were meant for each other."

"Yeah, well, things that are meant for each other aren't always the right thing."

"Do you really believe that? Or are you scared that it won't work out if you tried again and you opened yourself up for nothing?" He lifted one hand from the wheel to put air quotes around the word nothing.

You glared at his side profile. "Okay, Mr. Therapist."

"What?" He looked at you again, before focusing back on the road. "I'm just saying. Reid is so far gone for you, opening up to him would never be for nothing. If you want it to work you have to work for it."

"Since when are you an expert on relationships, Derek 'has a new girl every week' Morgan." You rolled your eyes. But you couldn't deny that his words stirred something inside you.

"Okay, you're just being mean now, sugar. I'm incredibly wise." He pretended to push glasses up his nose.

That got a laugh out of you. A real, stomach ache inducing laugh. Maybe you were hysterical now, too.

Morgan smiled at that. He was glad to hear that sound again, after months filled with frown lines and sharp tones.

After you calmed down, you got back into work mode, calling the team and telling them what you had discovered. You told Penelope to check the address and she confirmed that it was an abandoned laboratory.

Now everything happened quickly. Hotch ordered you to drive to the lab and wait for the team, to be on alert for anyone entering or leaving the building, but not to—under any circumstances—enter or separate from each other.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

Not even twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrived at the laboratory and prepared by putting on your vests and checking your guns.

The other black SUVs lined up in front of the main entrance shortly after.

You caught Spencer's eyes as he got out of the car. He scanned you from head to toe for injuries. When he found none, the concern on his face melted away quickly enough for you to consider you had imagined it.

"No one has entered or left the front door in the time we were here." You said when the team reassembled.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you and Prentiss go in from behind and search the lower level. JJ, Rossi and I search the second floor."

"But that means—" Spencer started to protest but Hotch has already pointed at you.

"You and Reid, go to the upper level."

Because you were so focused on the case (totally not because you want to show Hotch you could be more professional than Spencer), you just nodded.

"Good. Let us not waste time we don't have." Hotch frowns and everyone goes their separate ways.

Spencer glanced at you and you glanced at him. This was the first time you had been alone together since the break up and you were both unsure what to do with each other.

"Is your vest secure?" Spencer asked after a short awkward pause. He took a step closer and you try your best not to flinch back. Professional, you remind yourself like a mantra.

"Yes." You retort steadily enough, but he was already reaching out to tug on the straps.

You frowned at the display of worry, but decided on letting him have his moment. Purely to save energy, of course.

"Fine, let's go up." He said as he was satisfied with your vest. Together you made your way up the stairwell onto the upper level.

As you sneaked through the eerily quiet lab, the only sound heard was the clacking of your heeled boots on the resin floor.

Spencer glared at you. "Couldn't have worn a worse shoe for this, could you?" He whispered.

"I could've hardly worn my crocks." You snapped back. "Focus."

Both of your guns were trained around the corners as you carefully assed the situation. So far there was nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary for an abandoned laboratory. Broken glass, dusty workstations, pipes…Nothing to accompany you and Spencer but silence.

Until a shot rang out. And you wince.

The bullet just barely grazed your upper arm but it was enough to make a crimson blotch bloom on your white button up.

Spencer pulled you behind a corner before you could get hurt even worse and presses his hand over your wound.

He wrapped a hand around your wrist to hold your arm still and assessed your arm. "Does it hurt badly?"

"It's fine. Focus on the UnSub." You scowled, pushing against his shoulders with your free hand. Spencer didn't budge. "Reid, I'm so serious—"

"No, I'm serious," he said your name sternly. "Answer my ques—"

Another shot rang out before he could finish repeating himself, but it thankfully didn't hit anyone.

You gave him a look that says see? I fucking told you so. and pushed him away to glance around the corner to fire some shots at the guy.

"The suspect is in the upper level." You said into the microphone. "He's wearing a black bomber. Brown hair. I can't tell much. He's armed and shooting." You listed off.

"Copy that." Answered JJ's voice back to you.

"Get," Spencer grumbled, "behind the wall."

"You almost sound worried." You grinned and taunted him by doing the direct opposite of his command, leaning further around the corner.

"That's because I am. It doesn't look great on my report if I just let you die." He bitt out, pulling you back by your wrist that he still hasn't let go of.

Unfortunately, he ended up slamming your back against the wall in the process.

You made a noise that could only be described as a grunt. "Oh, and manhandling does?"

Both of you were now pressed against the wall, with Spencer's arms caging you in so you couldn't make a run for it and do something even more reckless.

"I'll just put it down as keeping you from sabotaging the mission." He was panting, and for a moment the thought of just how attractive he was crossed your mind. Until you shook it off.

Just as you opened your mouth to taunt him some more, you ear piece crackles and Hotch's voice was heard saying yours and Spencer's names, "—what is your position?"

"We're still—fuck!" Another shot rang out before you could finish the sentence, hitting a pipe on the opposing wall and causing you to flinch. Steam hissed from the hole. Spencer shushed you and you were tempted to snap at him, but you lowered your voice instead. Staying quiet was in your best interest, to make the shooter believe you were hit and the danger passed.

"Still on the third floor. He's got us cornered." You continued quietly.

And because Spencer just couldn't leave it at that, he added into the mic, "She's hurt, we will need an ambulance when we're out of here."

Glaring, you retorted, "I'm fine, a bullet just grazed my arm."

"It's still important to get it checked out!" Spencer replied in a harsh whisper. He was really pushing your buttons now.

"We're on our way up. Try to get him into the stairwell." Is the only response you get from Hotch.

You breathe out. "Okay, let's try to get to the stairwell."

Spencer nods, gesturing for you to take the lead and finally stepped back to free you from the cage of his arms. (And the suffocating urge to kiss him.)

With your gun stretched out in front of of you, you carefully take step after step along the eerily quiet hallway.

"You go right," Spencer murmured, "I'll take the left."

"What? No—" But it was an impossible task, stopping Spencer Reid once he was set on doing something. He had already disappeared into another hallway.

"Does he learn nothing from his mistakes?" You mumbled to yourself, but do as he demanded nonetheless.

You placed one foot in front of the other with caution, rounding the corners not before listening into the silence.

Suddenly there was a noise. You didn't know if it was Spencer, your imagination or the UnSub, but all of your body was braced for battle.

Taking a deep breath, you rounded the corner. The hallway ended with a wall adorned with two doors. One lead to the stairwell, spiralling down into the second floor.

The other door was open. It looked like a lab to you, but you didn't have a good enough angle to see what was inside. The walls specked with dust and grime, mold forming in the crevices.

You caught movement in the room and walked slowly towards it. You had a half formed though to signal to Spencer through the mic, but before you could execute it, you had already entered the room.

A man stood with his back to you at one of the work stations. You took another step towards him, but your boot crushed a shard of glass under its heel. You froze.

Theodore spun around in panic, picking his gun up from the counter. "You—You should be—I shot you."

You breathed in deep to steady your voice. Theo's choice of words struck a match of hope in you. Maybe he didn't know that Spencer and the rest of the team were in the building, too. Maybe he just saw you.

"The bullet graced my arm." You confirmed, taking a step closer to him.

"Get back. Get back!" He screamed, forcing you to walk deeper into the room with his gun, so his back was to the door. "If you shoot, I'll go down pressing the trigger and you will go down, too."

His hand was shaking around the gun, he looked like he might drop it every moment. The room was dark, just a little sliver of light coming through the small window.

You watched it flicker and tried to come up with something to say, but your brain blanked on the profile.

Being a profiler had taught you a lot, but in this moment all you could focus on was that Spencer was somewhere in this building and you had no idea if he was safe.

"Theo, I know what your father did to you, how he would train you to take every hit without flinching, the burning." You said carefully.

"Don't—don't talk about my father like you know anything! Because you don't—you don't know anything!Lower you gun!" He spit out.

Just as you were trying to find a way to tell him that there was no way you would lower your gun, you saw Spencer through the doorframe behind Theo, gun pointed at him, too. You tried not to look at him as you continued.

"I won't shoot if you don't give me a reason to, Theo. I—I talked to your mother." You tried in a last desperate attempt to deescalate the situation.

That seemed to get his attention, he lowered his gun a little, before taking a step closer to you pointing it at you again. "Leave my mother out of this." He growled.

You continued anyway. "She told me that she was sorry, about your fight before you left. She is so, so proud of you, Theo. Told me to tell you that she loves you. Nothing could make her stay mad at you forever, she just wants you in her life again." You tried not to look at Spencer as you spoke the words to Theo that were really meant for him.

Tears formed in Theo's eyes. A sight that you had seen just forty minutes earlier, in his mother's. "Stop! It doesn't matter if she's proud. I lied to her! I lied."

"Of course it matters, if you put the weapon down and come back with us to the station, you could see her again. You could be her son again."

His laugh is hollow as he said, "Do you think I'm stupid? You're trying to get me to surrender. What do you called it? A talk down? Making false promises just to get me locked up. You never end up keeping them." His grip on the trigger tightened.

Another thing you learned as a profiler was not to get attached to victims or UnSubs. And while most of the team had failed at that, you had always considered yourself lucky—or heartless, for that matter.

But as you watched the pain on Theo's face, you understood. Maybe not everything he did, but you understood the cause. Understood that all of his life was set up for him to end here, in this lab, two guns pointed at him.

Behind him, Spencer nodded towards the stairs and you tried to signal to him that you didn't understand without exposing his location. He just gestured towards them again, frowning at you to just do as he said.

He took a few steps deeper into the room to clear the doorway, somehow managing not to get caught by Theo. It was a gamble he gladly took if it meant you were safe. "Theo, you don't have to do this."

Spencer's voice startled Theo and for a second you were terrified that he was going to shoot. But instead, he just turned around quickly, panicked pointing the gun at Spencer.

Your moment to run. Just to get help and come back to him. You sprinted out of the room, past Theo and Spencer. Theo shouted "No!" but it was too late, you were already half down the stairs.

You silently begged Spencer to hold on for a little longer. But just as you practically jumped of the last step in a hurry, you heard a gunshot.

Freezing on the bottom of the steps for the fraction of a second, you tried not to panic, but just as you turned to sprint back up the stairs, an arm wrapped around your middle, the other covering your mouth.

"Shh," came Rossi's voice from behind you. You struggled as he dragged you out of the building.

Fresh air hit your face as you were forced to exit, but all you could think about was the fact that Spencer's dead body might be lying on the third level of an abandoned laboratory.

You tried to pull back from him but he wouldn't let you. "No—Spencer. Spence is still—Spencer!" You struggled against his grip.

"You can't go back in there—" Rossi said your name. "The kid is smart, you know that. He—"

Before he could finish, there was another gunshot, this one closer. You almost sank to your knees as everyone around you prepared to take down the UnSub.

And were rebuild when Spencer emerged from the building a few seconds later, hands raised, "Don't shoot, he is injured, but breathing." He gestured behind him somewhere.

Rossi finally let you go when Spencer was far enough away from danger.

Not wasting a minute, you ran towards Spencer, almost crashing into him in the process.

Emily, JJ and an EMT passed you in a blur as they went into the laboratory to secure Theo. You barely registered them.

"What happened?" You didn't know whether to push him or to kiss him. You opted for the first, pushing against his shoulders. "Why would you tell me to leave? I—We had it handled. Together. I—I—You fucking scared me."

Spencer just pulled you to him by your good arm and wrapped you in a tight embrace. He didn't say anything for a while, just letting you process your feelings.

The fear of loosing Spencer for good, the pain of the break up, the conflicting feelings of having to work with your ex (that you're still very much in love with). You clung to him as your emotions overtake you. And, fuck, your arm hurt!

"Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. Here—" he pulled back with some difficulty, given that you had quite a firm grip on him, and took your hand in his, placing it on the side of his neck. "Can you feel that? I'm okay."

You nodded. "You're okay." You breathed out, looking from your hand on his pulse point, to his eyes. "Why would you do that?" Tears pricked at your eyes.

"I didn't think rationally. All I could think about was that there was a gun pointed at you and all my brain would come up with was stupid ideas to make him point it at me. Please forgive me."

He looked at you with his big, sad, brown puppy eyes, while his thumb brushed softly against the skin under your eye to catch your tears before they could fall.

You would have said something flirty like, you might have to make it up to me some more, if you weren't so terribly mad at him. "Maybe. I can't promise anything."

He smiled softly despite your answer. Maybe even because of it. It was a silly thought, you not forgiving him. "I can work with maybe."

An EMT whisked you away shortly after, but Spencer's hand stayed in yours until they slipped apart and his arm fell to his side.

He wasn't sure if he could just follow, he stayed away and watched you get checked out by the EMTs.

All of it—the story of you and him—reminded him of Cassandra witnessing the fall of Troy. It was stupid to compare two people who were so insignificant to history to two of histories most known tragedies, but it fit like he still did into the palm of your hand.

He had known that he would never be able to get over you. No one had believed him, telling him that time heals all wounds and that he couldn’t see the bigger picture yet, because he was still in it.

But he had known, and it still rang true. You were it for him and he would never find anyone that made him feel more like himself. It was foolish to think he could survive the break up, foolish to think he would get over it.

Hell, he had taken being on the receiving end of your spite over being your friend because it meant you'd look at him and feel something.

Taking all of his courage together, Spencer decided to approach you after the EMT finished patching you up.

"Hey," he said gently. This was the first time you talked without snarling at each other outside of work since the break up and it felt like finally breathing fresh air again after living purely off of carbon dioxide. "Doing good? How is your arm?"

You looked up at him from the steps on the back of the ambulance. You looked rough, exhausted. The sleeves of your shirt were rolled up to allow the EMT to bandage your wound.

It felt different now, talking to you. The moment of adrenaline had passed and he had no idea how to talk to you. The times of snarling seemed to be over, but the ones of kissing and I love you's were long gone, too.

"I'm okay. All patched up. I don't think I will ever take my reflexes for granted ever again." You tried to smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "How are you?"

He wanted to deflect, to twist it back to you, but he humoured you. "Exhausted, but I'm good. I'm just glad you're safe."

What he actually wanted to say was: I love you, I'm glad you're speaking to me again. Let's never split up again. Please. And: I miss you, I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like everyone is running laps around me for the first time in my life.

Of course, he said none of it, this wasn't the time to dig that hole. Instead he just looked at you.

The blue of the sirens flickered on your face and even though you looked exhausted, he could't help but think you were the most beautiful thing Mother Earth has sculpted. The Grand Canyon was nothing in comparison to the frown lines on your face, the stars nothing compared to your freckles and birthmarks.

You looked back at him then, but thankfully didn't question the look on his face that without a doubt read, I love you.

Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder in a silent, I love you, too.

There was so much to talk about, so much to tell him, but when he insisted on taking you home, because he wouldn't let you drive home alone after the events of today, all you cared about was that he was there again. Fully. Without snapping, without pretend hate. Just the old you and the old him again.

You fell into your bed that night, the glaring blue light of your digital clock telling you that it was 3am. Earlier than a lot of other late nights at the BAU.

Spencer didn't hesitate to take off your work clothes, didn't ask where your pyjamas were, didn't stop to think what this all meant for you now. He didn't need to, all of this was an Obvious.

You didn't tell him to lay down next to you, to climb under the covers and flip the light off, to let you rest your head on his chest. He just did all of it. Because it was a routine, the known in all the unknown that was your relationship now. A Constant.

In the morning, you would talk about it. While he was changing your bandage with careful fingers. But right now, the sound of Spencer's heart beating your name lulled you to sleep.

In the end, fear and worry had been the best matchmakers.

──────────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

PART TWO

thank you so much for reading! please remember reblogging, commenting and liking if you enjoyed the fic. feedback is appreciated!! 𝜗𝜚

[softestqueeen]

✧*̥˚ emily prentiss fic recs part 2 *̥˚✧

a/n: *heavy sigh* another month, another fic rec list! yes, i am insane, you know the drill. short and sweet becasue there are so little emily prentiss fics out there 😭 if you have any recs, feel free to send them ot me!

part 1 I part 2 I my criminal minds masterlist

✧*̥˚ smut *̥˚✧

posession by @caseycabotsvu

vampire!emily prentiss by @luvvyouforever

hopeless and completely by @temilyrights

speak to me by @myharkness

jemily x reader reddish by @venusbyline

✧*̥˚ fluff*̥˚✧

morning light by @eternlmoonshine

born knowing you by @emilys-bangs

baby if you're love is in trouble by -//-

unspoken request by -//-

✧*̥˚ angst/hurt/comfort *̥˚✧

honey, she's teething by @notaboypossiblyagenius

wow, homemade cookies by -//-

if you want your work removed, dm me

[eternlmoonshine]

compromising positions ❥ jennifer jareau

summary: a stolen, passionate moment with jj takes a mortifying turn when someone walks in on you two. pairing: jennifer 'jj' jareau x f!reader warnings: making out? wc: 1k masterlist.

It started with a simple look.

A quick, fleeting glance from across the bullpen– her blue eyes locking with yours, heavy with intent.

And you knew exactly what it meant.

JJ had just gotten back from a gruelling, week-long case, and she had barely gotten the chance to breathe, let alone see you. And now that she was here, standing mere feet away from you, she looked like she needed you.

And you?

You needed her just as much.

So when she brushed past you on the way out of the bullpen, her fingers just barely grazing yours- a whisper of contact that sent electricity down your spine- you followed without hesitation.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

The storage closet she picked wasn’t exactly romantic.

It smelled faintly of paper and printer ink, the overhead light flickered incessantly, and there were more file boxes than either of you could count.

And yet, none of it seemed to matter at all.

Because right now…

Jennifer Jareau’s hands were tangled in your hair, her lips were hot and desperate against yours, and the feeling of her body pressed against yours had completely and utterly obliterated every rational thought in your head that was telling you that doing this right here, right now, was a bad idea.

The moment the door had clicked shut behind you, JJ pounced.

Her hands had grabbed the lapels of your blazer, pulling you into a searing kiss.

You barely had time to gasp before her tongue swept into your open mouth, and you melted against her, hands tangling in her hair.

“Jesus, JJ,” you murmured against her lips, but she only hummed distractedly in response as her flingers slipped beneath your blouse and trailed up the curve of your waist.

Her touch was fire- soft but insistent, nails scraping lightly along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You couldn’t even catch your breath long enough to form words before she was already kissing down your jaw, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

A quiet whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it, and JJ chuckled, her breath fanning warm against your skin.

“Missed you,” she breathed teasingly, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You tilted your head, giving her more access as a shiver ran down your spine. “I can tell.”

She smirked against your skin before biting down, just hard enough to make your knees go weak as you leaned into her embrace.

Your grip on her tightened. “Jennifer.”

She exhaled, pressing her body flush against yours. “Say it again.”

Her hands slid down lower, fingers lightly teasing at the waistband of your pants, her lips still attached to your neck.

You let out a soft moan, arching into her touch, and she groaned, nipping at your collarbone.

“God, I love when you make that sound,” she murmured.

Your head was spinning.

JJ had always been good at this- at completely ruining you with nothing but her mouth, her teasing hands and her voice.

And right now, she had you at her mercy.

Your fingers fisted into her shirt as you switched positions, turning around to press her back against the metal shelves as your lips found hers again in a kiss that was all heat and hunger.

She moaned into your mouth, gripping your hips tightly and pulling you closer- like she couldn’t stand even an inch of space between the two of you.

Her hands roamed everywhere- greedy and impatient- and you let out a soft gasp when she dragged her nails down your back, pressing into the fabric of your blouse.

“JJ,” you breathed, your forehead pressed against hers.

Her lips curled into a teasing smile. “What, baby?”

You exhaled sharply. “You’re so cocky.”

She chuckled, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You love it.”

And, well… she wasn’t wrong. 

Her lips met your again and you lost yourself in her.

Which is probably why neither of you heard the door open.

Or the sharp intake of breath.

Until-

“OH, HELL NO-”

You both froze.

Your heart stopped.

And then, slowly, so slowly, you turned your head.

Standing in the doorway, looking downright horrified, was none other than Derek Morgan.

His eyes were wide, mouth open in pure disbelief as he lifted his hands as if her was trying to physically erase what he had just seen,

“I DIDN’T SEE NOTHING!”

You and JJ scrambled apart, breathless, shirts wrinkled and lips swollen- as if that could somehow undo everything.

“Derek,” JJ started, running a hand through her hair in a poor attempt to make it seem presentable. “I- uh- this isn’t-”

“Oh, no.” Derek shook his head violently, taking a step back. “I refuse to process whatever the hell this is.”

You felt like your face was on fire. “Oh my God.”

JJ sighed, attempting to compose herself. “Derek, it’s-”

“Nope. Nuh uh.” Derek pointed at both of you. “Y’all are grown ass adults. I don’t care what you do.”

JJ narrowed her eyes. “Then… why do you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm.”

The man threw his hands up in frustration. “Because I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THAT!”

You groaned, covering your face. “Derek-”

“NAH.” He took another step back. “Y’all are nasty.”

JJ smirked, tilting her head slightly. “You sure you’re not just jealous.”

Derek sputtered. “I- I AM LEAVING.”

With that, he spun on his heel and bolted, the door slamming shut behind him and leaving you and JJ in stunned silence.

Then JJ turned to you, biting her lip, and then burst into laughter.

You groaned in mock annoyance as you buried your face in her shoulder. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“At least now we know never to use the storage closet again,” she chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You lifted your head. “Are you kidding? Now we definitely have to.” “You’re terrible,” she laughed, shaking her head.

You grinned, tugging her back in by the waist. “Yeah,”  you murmured softly, brushing your lips against hers. “But you love it.”

JJ smiled. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I really do.”

[five-bi-five-mind]

requests open again🤭 tehehe okay….

maybe a jj x reader fic where they just got married and are on a honeymoon somewhere at a resort. they go to the hot tub and night when no one is there…smut…??

Honeymoon

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Words: 3.4k+

Summary: You two just got married, now you were across the globe at a romantic resort that was nearly empty and JJ wanted to take the opportunity to enjoy it, and you, to the fullest.

Warnings: alcohol mention, semi-public sex, fingering, clit play, hot tub sex, JJ topping from the bottom, bottom!r, top!JJ, praise kink, let me know if I forgot anything...

A/N: So... have a quick fluffy, smutty fic while I work on some angstier, more fucked up ones lol

(gif not mine, credit to luthqrs)

“I can’t believe it,” JJ hummed as she walked around towards you, a glass of champagne in either hand. 

“Can’t believe what?” You smiled back at her as she handed you a glass and took a small sip.

“That you’re Mrs. Jareau now.” She let out a soft chuckle to herself, liking the sound of that more and more each time she said it. Which, she had honestly lost count at this point of how often she kept repeating that to herself.

You just rolled your eyes at how cheesy she was being and took another sip.

“I also can’t believe,” JJ continued, “That we’re here together… with this beautiful view of the mountains, just you and me.”

“No work to interrupt us,” you jumped in with a giggle. JJ just nodded with a guilty smirk. It was the first night of your honeymoon and also, miraculously, the first time you’ve ever gone on a romantic trip with JJ.

The two of you had tried often in the past, but it never worked out. There was always an emergency at work– or worse, JJ had gotten hurt and traveling would’ve slowed down her healing process. This time, the wedding went on with no problems and then you both packed and got on a plane with the same lucky streak. Now, here you both were, staying at a resort out of the country (JJ had insisted that the farther away she was the less likely it was for her to get called into work) with a beautiful view of the snow covered Alps. And, surprisingly, the resort wasn’t even that busy this time of year so there was really no stress, no fuss, nothing. It was just you, her, and the scenic view that took your breath away almost in the same way JJ’s dazzling smile did.

Your eyes took in the snowy peaks as you kept taking small sips of the champagne. JJ was behind you, her glass half empty already as she watched you and the content expression on your face as you took in all the nature. For all the horrors and ugliness of JJ’s job, it was these moments of beauty that meant the world to her. JJ has had so many moments like this since you came into her life and now you had just promised each other a lifetime more of them. As she stood next to you on the deck of the resort, the stars shining in the sky, the soft glow of the string lights illuminating your sparkling eyes, JJ didn’t think she had ever been happier in her entire life. 

JJ moved to step behind you and wrap her arms around your waist. You immediately leaned against her and closed your eyes for a moment at the feeling of her warm body. Her chin rested on your shoulder and she took in the same view that had you so in awe. “You know,” she whispered, “this is gorgeous but it’s nothing compared to the beautiful view of my wife.”

You couldn’t help the bright smile at those words. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you were now her wife, that you had agreed to take her last name and you promised to spend the rest of your days together. It was a dream come true. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of what JJ did for her career, but you supported her and were proud of her. It’s just that you didn’t get a lot of moments like these, where everything was perfectly peaceful. So, as you soaked in the amazing feeling of being surrounded by the woman you love in a beautiful place that looked like it was straight out of a fairytale, you were determined to enjoy every comfort this honeymoon had to offer. 

When a breeze blew through the deck of the resort that’s when JJ finally let go of you and stepped back. The shiver that went through your whole body was an indication that maybe it wasn’t the best thing to be standing out in the cold this long, especially not when she already had plans for you that would heat you up quite quickly.  “Maybe we should get in?” JJ encouraged as she took the now empty champagne glass from your hand.

So caught up in the beauty of everything, you had totally forgotten why you were on the deck in the first place. But then you turned from the view back to JJ and realized that she was probably right. It might not be the best idea to stand out on a deck, with snow everywhere else, in nothing but a fuzzy towel and a two piece swimsuit. The plan was to enjoy the outdoor hot tub after all. Especially since no one was using it and you both thought, with how empty the resort was this time of year, that would remain the case.

“Yeah…” You took JJ’s offered hand as she pulled you towards the tub. “That’s probably a good idea.” You let her guide you to the hot tub and when JJ dropped her towel you still couldn’t get over the stunning image of your now wife in nothing but a bathing suit. 

She was truly gorgeous, and even though you’ve seen her naked quite a lot since the two of you got together, you were always in awe of her body every single time. The way her two piece accentuated her toned figure had you blushing and you really needed to calm down all the thoughts going through your head, because this was just supposed to be an innocent dip in the hot tub.

Except, JJ had entirely different plans. Risky plans, in fact. She wasn’t sure if you’d go along, but she was going to try. It was her honeymoon after all, it was a time to live her life to the fullest and enjoy every opportunity she got. So when she took the towel off your body, she was already a little more handsy than you expected.

Her hands moved immediately to your waist. She pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “this looks…” her hands trailed down to your ass as she spoke, “so good on you.” She squeezed and you let out an embarrassing squeak before swatting at her shoulder. 

JJ just gave you a mischievous grin before guiding the both of you into the tub. The water was refreshing compared to the cold air and you knew this was the type of relaxation you both needed. JJ sat down first, her arms spread on the lip of the hot tub and her head leaned back as she took in a deep, satisfied breath.

“This feels so nice,” she sighed. 

“It really does,” you chuckled as you took a moment to adjust to the temperature before also sitting down next to her in the hot tub. Your head leaned back to rest on her outstretched arm and you sighed contently as your eyes slipped closed for a moment. It was silent, but peaceful, the only sounds were that of nature and of the jets from the tub pushing the water and gently massaging your back. For a moment you thought you never wanted to leave this place, just you and JJ and this warm hot tub, nothing else. The thought made you let out a soft laugh to yourself and JJ just looked over at you with a gentle smile. 

She let you relax for a moment, watching as you took in a few deep breaths and settled into the warm water, but then her eyes began to travel down. She took in the way the top of your swimsuit showed off your cleavage, and the way she could see, even through the water, the bottoms hugging the curve of your hips. It was hard to keep herself at least a little behaved.

But then you turned your head to her, your eyes hooded and relaxed, your fingers tracing the outline of her muscles on her abdomen beneath the water– a move that was totally innocent on your part, but was driving JJ wild– and she couldn’t help it anymore. Totally unexpectedly for you, and with great speed, JJ moved so that she could reach for you. Her hands snaked down your body until they were under your ass, and with the help of the water, she scooped you up and placed you right onto her lap.

“JJ,” you giggled as your hands went to her shoulders so you wouldn’t fall backwards into the water. “What are you doing?”

“Having some fun,” she grinned and gave you a wink. Before you could even respond her lips were on yours in a slow, but heated kiss. The hands that were resting on her shoulders tightened as you, yourself became breathless from how deeply she was kissing you all of a sudden.

She didn’t even waste time, running her tongue along your bottom lip before letting you part them for her. When her tongue met yours, her hands, which had been resting on your ass, squeezed and pulled you even closer to her body.

You let her kiss you like that for a while, her tongue licking into your mouth and your hands moving to tangle in her hair as she took your breath away. But then, the kissing paired with the way you felt her half naked body pressed against your own in the warm water, was starting to get to you. You couldn’t stop the slight grind of your hips down onto her lap as her teeth grazed your bottom lip. 

There was a moment where you didn’t want to stop at all, but then a snap of a branch in the very far distance made you realize exactly where you were and pulled back slowly. JJ looked at you with the same, devilish smile and held onto you tighter so you wouldn’t move from her lap. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered as you looked all around to see if anyone was nearby. Of course, the deck was empty except the two of you. It was late, the resort was barely populated, but still you were worried about what would happen if someone came out to enjoy the hot tub and saw the two of you in the position you were in.

“Relax,” JJ chuckled, “I’m just enjoying my new wife, is that so wrong?” JJ leaned forward before you could respond and kissed your lips again. You couldn’t stop yourself from immediately melting into her again and the hands that were once trying to push her away wrapped around her neck to pull her closer.

“Well…” you murmured against her lips, “I guess not.” It was really hard to resist JJ when her hands were guiding your hips ever so slightly to keep grinding down into her lap and her tongue was brushing against your own every once in a while as you kissed. Yes, there was a risk that at any moment someone could decide they wanted to have a dip in the hot tub, but you highly doubted that and honestly you couldn’t really begin to care. Not when JJ was letting out soft sighs at the way your own tongue was running against hers. 

You were so lost in the way she was kissing you that you didn’t even notice that one of her hands had let go of your waist. It wasn’t until you felt fingers slip into your swim bottoms and trace lightly against your clit that you actually registered that your wife wanted more than just a heated makeout session in this hot tub.

“Maybe–” you stumbled on your words as you felt those same fingers press a little more firmly and start making slow circles. “JJ, maybe we should go to the room?” JJ’s lips had just moved from your own down to your neck so you were finally able to get some words out.

“Why?” She hummed against your neck before nipping at the sensitive skin. The circles her fingers were making were getting a little faster now and even though you were trying to remain logical, the way your body was moving and bucking into her hand was definitely not the rational response you were trying to make. “No one is going to come out, baby,” she purred against your skin before running her tongue down to your collarbone. 

“It’s just you,” she said before placing a kiss to your bare shoulder, the strap to your swimsuit top having been pushed aside by her at some point, “and me.” She sank her teeth in and you hissed at the sensation of slight pain mixed with pleasure. 

She wasn’t really trying to make a solid argument, but with the way one of her hands kept playing with your clit while the other one snaked its way up your body until it reached under your swim top to get to your nipples, she could say just about anything and it would work. Your head was lulling back as her lips continued to attack the most sensitive parts of your neck. JJ, the whole time, was just enjoying the way she didn’t need to guide your body anymore into rocking into hers, you were doing it all on your own. 

“I guess you’re right,” you mumbled as your arms tightened around JJ. Your hips were moving a little bit faster now, but JJ had stopped marking up your neck with her lips and was now leaning back so she could watch the way you had given into the building pleasure she was giving you.

You looked beautiful like this to her, your body grinding into the way her fingers were working your clit, your eyes shut tight, and your lips parted slightly as soft sighs fell from them. You looked like a goddess to her, and she was determined to treat you like one for, not just the honeymoon, but the rest of your lives together. 

Your body was starting to tremble. It was slight, but with how focused JJ was on you, she noticed immediately. She didn’t want you to cum just yet though, not by her just playing with your clit. No, she needed to feel you fall apart on her fingers. So, when you felt her stop playing with your clit the whine of protest you started to let out turned into a low moan as you felt two of her fingers slide down and enter you with ease.

Your head fell forward and you buried your face in her neck as you felt her push them deep inside, up to her knuckles. She gave you a moment to adjust, her other hand moving away from your breast to go back down to your hip before she started to gently move your body in a way that showed you how she was wanting you to move. With your arms still wrapped around her and your face still pressed to her neck, you followed her guidance and began to rock your hips in the exact way she was hoping you would. JJ’s fingers curved inside you and she couldn’t help the small moans that were falling from her own lips as she watched the way you began to ride her fingers faster. 

The water made it a little bit easier for you to rock yourself on them, whimpering and moaning here and there with each time she curved her fingers a little bit more for you.

“You’re doing so good for me,” JJ cooed as she began to pump her fingers into you in time with the way you were fucking yourself on them. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

You were a sucker for praise and JJ learned that about you very early on. Anytime she said things like that it would get you worked up, and they had the exact response she was hoping for. Your pace quickened and your hold on her tightened. At this point, you were using her neck to muffle the sounds of your moans, which had gotten a little louder and harder to control. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” JJ groaned as she felt you tighten around your fingers. “Make yourself cum on top of me, baby.” In that moment JJ picked up the pace, while simultaneously using the hand that had a hold of your hip to move your body down harder onto her fingers. You were fully riding her fingers at this point and your nails were digging into her back as you held her even tighter.

JJ loved the way she could feel your thighs shake as you got closer and closer to the edge. She kept up the praises as she felt the way your pussy tightened around her two fingers. “You’re being so good,” she purred as you moaned her name. “Come on, baby, cum on my fingers.”

After just a brief moment, with a few stronger pumps of her fingers up into you, you were falling apart on top of her. Her neck only muffled the way you cried out for her a little bit. If you were thinking this through you might have been embarrassed and worried that people inside the resort could’ve heard the way you just, slightly loudly, came for your wife outside in the hot tub. But in this moment, with the way JJ was helping you ride out your orgasm, humming soft praises as you came down from your high, you did not really care if other people heard. 

When your body finally stilled and she pulled her fingers out, you lifted your head to look at her. The way she looked back at you made you almost ready for round two right then and there. Her pupils were blown, her lips were parted as she took in heavy breaths, and her face was slightly flushed. It could’ve been from the warmth of the hot tub, but something told you it was most likely from what had just transpired. At that moment, you knew you both needed to get out of this hot tub soon. Not because you were worried about overheating, but because you needed your wife to throw you on the bed back in the room and keep giving you all those praises she was before. 

“You’re gorgeous,” JJ said, her voice low, raspy, and filled with want. 

You pressed the palm of your hand to the side of her face and kissed her, deep but briefly. “I love you,” you whispered against her lips before trying to lean back.

JJ pulled you back for another kiss, long and lingering, before replying. “I love you too,” she whispered. “Shall we head back to the room? 

You nodded and gave her a soft smile. She gave you a bright one right back before helping you up from the tub. Though, she took a moment before getting up herself, wanting to admire the view of you dripping wet in a small swimsuit. She couldn’t believe you just let her take you in a hot tub. She couldn’t believe how gorgeous you looked, riding her fingers in a public place without a care in the world. She couldn’t believe she made you moan so loud it practically echoed off the mountain tops. Although, that last one, she wasn’t sure you were aware of just how loud you had been when you came. All JJ knew was that she wanted to make you make those sounds again. And she very much intended to do that for the rest of the trip.

When she finally got out and you helped her dry off, JJ pulled you into her arms one more time, pressing your wet bodies together for a moment, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I brought a few surprises.” Your face immediately flushed at the suggestive tone she was taking. “And tonight, I want to try a few of them out. Will you be a good girl and let me?”

Your mouth fell open. JJ didn’t wait for you to respond before pulling away, wrapping the towel around her body, and swaying her hips purposely as she walked towards the door to her resort. You stood there in disbelief for a second, but when she looked back at you and winked, you finally got the sense to start moving your feet.

Tonight was the first time you’ve ever done anything remotely suggestive with so much risk in a semi-public space. Something told you that wouldn’t be your only first that night. JJ really did have a lot in store for the honeymoon. 

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[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 02.

ꕥ part 01. | part 03. | part 04. | part 05. | part 06. | part 07. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: canon-typical violence, mentions of human trafficking, swearing, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, moderately jealous Spencer, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~3.5k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

wednesday

“Eek, this is like a group vacation.” Her quick, light claps accompanied Garcia’s excited squeal. Her bright, energetic demeanour seemed to lift everyone’s mood, which was below average that early afternoon on a cloudy Wednesday. The reason was mostly that they were all tired from the mission on the previous day. Also, the fact that a one-and-a-half-day road trip was ahead of them didn’t really help either.

As soon as they clocked in to work that day, Hotchner greeted them with the rather unfortunate news that in order to avoid any suspicion, they’d have to travel on the road and not with the private jet, which meant a roughly 35-hour-long drive. The Bureau was kind enough to provide the team with a minibus and three assigned FBI agents as drivers so they wouldn’t have to take turns behind the wheel.

“Did Morgan manage to kick down fewer doors in the previous month or what?” you asked jokingly as you watched the biscuit-coloured vehicle roll up to the team. The Bureau was constantly up in your asses with the monthly budget and how expensive it was sometimes to fund the unit. They were so stingy that it became a joking material between you.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” rolled his warm, chocolate brown eyes the mentioned man as he lightly punched your shoulder.

The truth is this wasn’t out of generosity. It was more of a tactical investment, recommended by the anti-trafficking unit. If it were up to the Bureau, you’d be crammed up in those notorious black SUVs for almost two days straight. But the dark vehicles became so known for belonging to law enforcement personnel that if the host or some guests from the auction saw them, the BAU would immediately get noticed and the mission would be a failure.

“So, Hotch” spoke Reid not so far from you who was strangely silent this morning. “We are going to spend the night at some hotel, I assume.”

“Yes. This way we will arrive at Flathead Lake either tomorrow night or Friday morning, depending on the traffic.” nodded your boss. He informed you that the briefing will take place on the bus since the anti-trafficking unit - who invited the team to help with the case – gathered some new information about the owner of the lakeside mansion where the auction will take place. While you infiltrated yesterday’s gala, they also put together a somewhat solid plan. Luckily, the BAU didn’t have to do everything all by themselves, they got joined up with competent people.

You quickly ran your gaze through the whole team. There was Hotchner, Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, Morgan, Garcia, Reid and of course, you. An even number of people. Meaning everyone had to share rooms with someone. You were more than sure that the “dads” – as in Aaron and David – would share one, just like Emily and Jennifer. There wasn’t any question about it. Now came the bigger problem, which was the Morgan-Garcia duo. If they were to share a room, it would only leave you with the doctor. Oh God no. You definitely can’t let that happen.

The minibus was the smallest possible one out there with 12 seats maximum, plus the seat of the chauffeur. This looked worse and worse for you by the minute. Of the three drivers, one was obviously behind the wheel, and the other two were occupying 2-2 front-row seats so they could rest properly. Leaving exactly eight seats for the team, so nobody had the opportunity to sit alone.

“So, Pen…” you hugged the woman next to you with one of your arms and had a Cheshire cat kind of smile on your face.

“Absolutely not” objected Derek, shaking his head before the flamboyant blonde diva could even take a breath. “There is no chance in hell that I’d sit next to Reid for around 40 hours. Babygirl is with me, so don’t even try. And I’m also sharing a room with her.”

“But…”

“Get your asses moving, guys” called for you already from the bus Emily. The rest of the team was waiting for only the three of you. As you placed your foot on the thin steps of the light-coloured vehicle, you silently prayed that someone, out of pure coincidence, decided to sit next to Dr Pain-in-the-ass Reid. The cleanly designed door of the modern bus silently shut behind you while you quickly scanned the insides. Since you were the last to get on board, there was only one unoccupied seat in the third window row… Next to your unpleasant co-worker. Of course, where else? At this point, you felt like God was testing you.

It’s not that you didn’t like him, but there was always some underlying tension between you, and you felt like you were constantly on edge around him. The subtle rivalry was exciting, of course. You were a very competitive person by nature. But still, you felt like you were under a microscope, getting dissected by his curious, watchful eyes each and every time you were in the same place. You weren’t friends, not even close to that, in your opinion. Simply co-workers who were a bit too similar in some ways and exhaustingly different in others.

Reid was sitting in the aisle seat. His thumbs played with the edge of the case folder, which was on his lap while he leaned back in his seat with closed eyes. He tried to shut out the lively group for a moment and get 8 hours of sleep done in 2 minutes.

“Hey…” you were the one who pulled him out of his somewhat meditative state as you awkwardly stood next to him. “Could you let me in?” you pointed at the empty seat.

For a moment, he didn’t really react, just looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. He was slightly taken aback. Of course, there was a high possibility of you two having to sit next to each other. However, he thought that due to the complicated relationship that you had – which oftentimes was the cause of heated arguments -, someone would do the whole team a favour and take the place next to him. But no. Everyone seemed to stick with whom they were the closest with. This was reasonable, given that suffering through 1 and a half days of travelling would be even worse if you’re by the side of someone you aren’t that close with.

In a sense, the BAU was like a family, yes. During their years of work, they crossed the river Styx and came back countless times. They’ve seen Hell unleashed. They’ve experienced how cruel and disgusting human nature can be. But they did it together. And this created an unbreakable bond between them. There was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other.

Now, sitting in one place for around 40 hours crammed up in a small space is an entirely different question. Everyone gets bored, grumpy and annoyed easily. It’s safer to stick with the person you’re especially comfortable with, even amongst them.

Reid quickly collected his thoughts. He wasn’t feeling like he was in his element, and it bothered him. He couldn’t lose against you. Not even in a non-existent competition about which one of you is handling this cooler.

“Be my guest,” he smirked but didn’t move an inch.

“Are you serious right now?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest as you looked him in the eyes with a challenging spark in your irises. The bus slowly moved under you, making you stumble a bit. His smirk turned into a grin as he slid down in his seat, making himself more comfortable.

“Everyone, I’d like to start the briefing,” you hear Hotch’s voice through the bus’s speaker since he used the microphone at the front. They were waiting for you to sit down finally.

“I won’t hesitate to step and walk all over you,” you tried to sound as serious as possible, hoping that by asserting your dominance, he’d stand up and let you in.

“Kinky” came the unserious comment from JJ who was in one of the backseats, causing the more unserious half of the team to chuckle.

“Guys, please,” your boss tried to take control of the situation while the little asshole next to you was just smiling smugly. This was your last straw. You took a deep breath and lifted your left leg over his lap, so your back was facing him. This situation was so embarrassing that you couldn’t possibly face him and remain collected.

Since the trunk was placed there, the ceiling above the seats was low, you had to kind of sit down to be able to squeeze yourself in. So, for a few excruciating moments, you were in his lap.

“I swear to fucking God one of us won’t get off of here alive, and it won’t be me” you murmured, your voice was filled with anger as you finally wiggled your way through the obstacle, being a literal grown-ass man. You didn’t even notice that the sound of his irritating chuckle was absent. He severely miscalculated things with this stunt that he pulled. You were so close to him. So damn close. He could smell the pleasant mix of your soft, sweet perfume and your shampoo lingering in the air. It wasn’t too strong, nothing over the top. You mostly used things that had natural scents, either from flowers or fruits. Things that smelled like candy, or anything overly artificial usually gave you a headache so you tended to avoid those. He probably wouldn't have noticed it if you weren’t that close. But now, as the gentle aroma filled his nose, it became impossible not to think about it. Also, the fact that he could’ve just reached his hands out and grabbed your hips when you sat down for a flickering moment on his thighs was an image he was hardly able to ignore.

But alas, you finally got to your seat and Hotch was able to start going through the developments of the case with the assistance of the one and only Penelope Garcia. “I’m sorry to say this, my lovelies, but the mansion is equipped with the best security system anyone could ever dream of. On top of that, the private guards hired are employees of the most elite and most efficient security agency worldwide. I don’t think it’d be possible for you to sneak in,” she said while she sent files and pictures to your tablets. “Being wired is also risky. Plus, there is the problem of no weapons, no vests, no nothing.”

“So, we're just going to raw dog this mission the way God intended?” you clicked your tongue as you said the rhetorical question mostly to yourself, causing Derek, who was sitting behind you, to snort.

“Well, one of us is definitely going in ra…” Emily’s sly smile matched her unserious tone perfectly. You could envision a crystal-clear picture of her face with a playful glimmer in her eyes. Not even a day went by since the undercover mission with your boss, so it was obvious none of them were going to let the topic go.

“Prentiss.” Hotchner’s deep, warning grunt came from the front seats as firm advice for your best friend to think carefully about whether she’d like to continue her sentence or not. You let out an awkward laugh as you pressed your forehead to the back of the seat in front of you. When the others quieted down, your boss continued. “Luckily, the anti-trafficking unit was able to get information about the staff working on the event. Morgan, Reid. You and a few agents from the other unit are matching their descriptions. They were all pursuable to give their shifts over to us. Garcia will send you detailed information about them, so you’ll be able to blend in as much as possible.”

This seemed logical so far. It was clear as day that you couldn’t send in Emily, JJ or Rossi since they were more or less public figures. Rossi was a well-respected author, JJ was the liaison of the team who later became a full-fledged agent, and Emily was known for her international contacts.

“We know that there are even politicians and CEOs joining the event. This will be an awfully low-risk crowd in one place at the same time. Wouldn’t they be more throughout with the workers too?” shook his head Spencer making his light brown wavy locks bounce slightly. He let his hair grow longer, giving his characteristic face a perfect frame. It took some time to collect himself, to tame the rushing thoughts that were so out of character for him. He honestly didn’t understand his reaction. Why did he freeze at the smell of you? Why did those sharp images appear in his mind out of the blue? What the hell was wrong with him?

Countless thoughts occupied his outstanding brain, making him somewhat irritated. Ever since they started working on the case, he felt like every single factor was against them. With politics involved, it was almost impossible to gain the upper hand, moreover, the team was at a bigger risk than usual. And now this too?

“Well, I’m sure the host will be. But the other rich assholes don’t give a fuck about anyone lower than them, let’s be honest. Moreover, I could also imagine that the staff is the responsibility of an employee of the host, not even the host himself.” you didn’t even realize that you went against his judgement, it came so naturally, almost as an instinct. But you opposed him, again. He turned his head towards you, a stern, stoic expression on his face, one of his eyebrows slightly raised.

By this time, your head was also in the game. You quickly collected yourself after the embarrassing moment with Reid and your teammates' comments. The latter one wouldn’t have bothered you, but since you were already awkward and your face was all hot and red, the girls’ remarks were like gasoline to the fire. But you couldn’t let this bother you for a long time. You worked too hard to get to where you are right now. You loved your job and were great at it. You loved the team too, more than anything. That bastard next to you couldn’t possibly gain the upper hand so easily over you.

“Are all the victims kept in the mansion?” took over the word Rossi. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he stared at the documents on the flat electronic device in his hands.

“According to the anti-trafficking unit’s information, over the years, Jonathan Grace, our host this weekend, brought most of the land around the northern area of Flathead Lake through different, hardly traceable accounts and he has properties all around the area. There is a big chance that the victims are held captive in all locations, making it harder for them to unite and attempt escaping.”

This was making things even harder. Now, there was a huge possibility of the victims not even being at the same place at the same time, making rescuing them in one organised attempt almost impossible.

“There are an awful lot of things that could go sideways,” Derek’s sigh was filled with worry and annoyance. He hated nothing more than when politics got in their way. In humanity’s way. This whole thing was bullshit. Proceeding with caution when hundreds of people were forcefully stripped of their freedom, their free will, and their lives, just because politics made this case a delicate one?! It almost seemed as if the actual victims hardly mattered, the only important thing was not to get damaged by an influential asshole. Of course, he knew that it wasn’t the situation with the team, but the outside looked very much like it. If it was up to him, he would’ve raided all of Grace’s properties with a bunch of SWAT members and got everyone out immediately. But he also knew that the moment the traffickers smelled something fishy, they’d disappear without a trace and reorganise somewhere else, continuing their activities, destroying people’s lives while not even being on the radar anymore. He would’ve ruined months, even years of hard work for the AT unit. Not to talk about any future victims he wouldn’t be able to save. So, logically speaking, he understood perfectly why they were handling everything so carefully and second-guessing each of their ideas, but it still infuriated him.

“Will there be units at every building Grace owns?” you asked. You habitually turned over and over the single ring on your ring finger as a subtle method of stimming. You were anxious because of the case. It was impossible not to be.

“Obviously,” came the kind of condescending reaction from, you guessed it right, Reid. “That was kind of a dumb question, Y/N, don’t you think?” he was facing you, his head slightly tilted downwards to look you in the eyes, since he was significantly taller even while sitting. A small smile was plastered on his face, making your blood boil even more. You weren’t even on the road for half an hour and already wanted to choke him to death.

“Yeah, I decided to take one for the team and ask the stupid question early on so you could correct me and get your daily bitching done,” you nodded your tone full of fake sympathy.

“Is it really daily bitching or you’re just constantly making mistakes?” he clapped back immediately while wearing a passive-aggressive smile on his patronising, punchable face.

“Ah, here we go again,” came Morgan’s grunt from behind you.

“Last time I checked I had more solved cases than you, thanks to my so-called mistakes.”

Ah, yes. Solved cases. Obviously, none of the successful ones were thanks to a singular person, everything you do is a team effort. However, since both of you were competitive as hell, you had this unsaid game going on between the two of you. Whoever’s leads or ideas proved the most useful during an investigation could take that case as their own.

“Kids.” This time the eldest was the one whose warning voice caused you to stop.

The next four or five hours went by quietly. After Rossi put an end to your bickering, both of you stayed in line. We could even say, you acted as normal, reasonable adults. The briefing went on for an hour more but after that, everyone became silent and absolved in the files.

The time for the first toilet break came when the bus parked at a resting stop. You pulled the earphones out of your ears and stretched in your seat. As you arched your back, the salmon-coloured button-up shirt that you were wearing tightened a bit around your upper body, perfectly outlining your otherwise hidden curves. Your movements weren’t provocative, not even in the slightest. It’s just Spencer who’s been finding himself in these weird scenarios where he suddenly noticed everything about you.

Of course, you were pretty, he was very well aware of this fact from day one. But now it seemed like this piece of information was actively in his mind for some unknown reason.

“Will you let me out or do I have to crawl over you again?” you turned with your upper body towards him and leaned a bit closer. The others were in the middle of leaving the bus, so nobody gave much attention to you, luckily.

He also leaned towards you, and swallowed his saliva before answering, making his Adam’s apple quickly rise and fall. “Whichever one you’d prefer more.”

“Move your ass then,” you urged him as you looked directly into his pretty, light brown eyes that had hints of green in them, seemingly unaffected by what he said. He kept eye contact while his pupils slightly dilated but didn’t say a thing. For a quick, unnoticeable moment his brows got furrowed and his jaw tightened but this expression disappeared as soon as it came. Without a word, Spencer stood up and left the vehicle with quick-paced steps. He felt like even the air got tighter around them in the small space. Must be the fault of the tiny bus.

thank you so much for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! divider from @cafekitsune

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

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author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream. 

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago. 

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it. 

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home. 

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now. 

So you go through the facts. 

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together. 

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list. 

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall. 

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury. 

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things. 

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal. 

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person. 

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!” 

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind. 

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week. 

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened. 

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk. 

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening. 

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness. 

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive. 

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything. 

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone. 

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state. 

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?” 

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.” 

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous. 

“It’s good hearing your voice.” 

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’. 

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you. 

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room. 

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?” 

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling. 

The box. 

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.” 

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips. 

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’ 

“What’s going on?” 

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.” 

You’re not his priority. 

You’ll never be his priority. 

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“ 

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!” 

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again. 

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…” 

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.” 

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.” 

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you. 

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.” 

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?” 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.” 

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.” 

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you. 

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.” 

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds. 

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!” 

When you look back again, it’s the one on top. 

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.” 

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.” 

“Does this mean anything to you?” 

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.” 

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep. 

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

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[samsblades]

✶ honey — jennifer jareau

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, alcohol consumption/mentions, unedited, 860 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a balcony in someone else’s mansion + “honey–” “why do you keep calling me that?” “i– do you want me to stop?” “…no.”

“where’s jj?” you call to whoever might hear you first, leaning against the doorframe that leads into rossi’s vast backyard. the whole team is milling about, various glasses of alcohol in each hand. your own red wine nearly spills a bit when you lightly trip over the ledge on the floor. you meet eyes with hotch after steadying yourself and give him a sheepish grin. he returns a contained, but affectionate smile. he must’ve seen your little misstep.

“she went up to the balcony,” he tells you, nodding his chin up towards the second floor. the small smile on his face has turned knowing.

“thanks,” you murmur, understanding the look on his face and feeling your cheeks warm because of it. then you duck your head and turn back into the house to go find her. you’re not looking for her for any particular reason other than the fact that you like to be with her whenever you get the chance. you also want to be sure that she’s alright, and that she’s just taking some time away from the bustle in the backyard rather than hiding away.

it turns out to be a bit of both. she’s just tired, is all. you can see it in the way she leans against the banister and the soft droop to her eyelids. but she’s also relaxed, glad to be here with friends. the wine glass in her hand boasts the deep red as yours.

“hey,” you murmur, coming to stand next to her and look out at the scene below you, just as she’s doing. spencer talks animatedly to emily, who listens with a fond smile. hotch has settled on a lawn chair near penelope, who has wrapped him into her conversation with morgan. rossi has disappeared for the moment, along with the charcuterie board, so you can assume he’s gone to refill it. these are the best sort of nights for this team, and as a bonus, you’re graced with being alone with one gorgeous jennifer jareau.

jj turns to look at you instead, for a moment, “hi,” she smiles. the tone of her voice confirms what you already knew; tired, but relaxed. the sort of tired where you can imagine sitting with her on one of those plush couches downstairs and she falls asleep on your shoulder. she did that once, on the plane ride back home from a case. you thought the beating of your heart might wake her, but instead she slept there for nearly a whole hour before moving unconsciously again. you think about it a lot.

you’re about to say something about the wine; how it took you a long time to recognize a good bottle. this one is good, of course. it’s rossi’s. “y’know, honey–,” the pet name slips out, like it often does around her. it’s been consistently brushed off by your affinity for sweet names. you say things like thank you, love, to random strangers who open the door, or no, that’s okay, sweetheart, to team members offering you coffee after you’ve had enough.

but you only call jj honey, and that’s why she interrupts you, “why do you keep calling me that?”

you startle, not expecting the direct question. it’s inevitable that it would be noticed; your habit of calling her that is the easiest sort of thing for a bunch of profilers to pick up on. and you sort of want to answer by telling her it’s because she’s sweet, like honey, but you don’t. “i– do you want me to stop?” you ask instead.

there’s a moment of soft quiet before she decides, “no. i don’t want you to stop.” she’s looking right at you now, meeting your eyes with this sort of clarity that makes your heart leap. you follow it by taking your own leap of faith.

“and… would you want me to stop if i kissed you right now?” you say, voice lowering just a touch as you hold her eye contact.

she has to hold back from grinning and rolling her eyes a bit. “anyone could look up and see us,” she points out, her voice softening to match yours. she does sound genuinely cautious though. kissing her would certainly be against the rules. but over the years, you’ve both learned to bend them.

either way, you respect her concern, even if everyone else would be able to tell without much effort if things between you two really changed. the tension is already easy to pick up on for them, but a kiss or more might become very easily obvious without avoidance of the subject and excellent acting.

“well, then,” you smile softly, “would you want me to stop if i kissed you not right now, but when we get into the hallway? or the bathroom, away from prying eyes?” there’s no perfect solution while you’re here; someone could come looking for you, or someone could see you leaving the bathroom together. but that reframing of your question is enough for her.

she smiles back, looking radiant. she’s like the damn sun to you, but much prettier. “no. i wouldn’t want you to stop, honey.”

[unseededtoast]

When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: You had suspicions that another woman was receiving Spencer’s affections, and one night your worst fears are confirmed. Heartbroken, you try to move on but find yourself contemplating when things went wrong, and when it was all over. Inspired by “Is It Over Now?” By Taylor Swift

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.7k

content warnings: infidelity, angst, mention of blood

a/n: thank all of you lovelies for taking the time and reading, I appreciate each and every one of you. But especially to @mirdnightmass who suggested this, thank you🫶🏼 and if you have any suggestions please send them my way!

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

Reading the words on your phone screen cause you stomach to turn with anxiety. Spencer had texted you that he will be home from a case tonight, and that he'd like to come over. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue and you'd be overjoyed to see him. But lately you suspect that there might be someone else entering the picture.

Your suspicions started small. He'd take phone calls that weren't from his boss, he would purposely order an extra coffee in the mornings to take to work, and he started working later than usual. Though you had no concrete proof of anything, it was a gut feeling that you just can't seem to shake.

But you push your anxiety aside and text Spencer back, letting him know that he's more than welcome to come over tonight. And as soon as you send the message, you put your phone away and clean your home to occupy your thoughts.

All too soon, Spencer's knocking on your door and you let him in with a smile on your face. He kisses you as he comes through, smelling oddly sweet. Fighting the urge to throw up, you convince yourself not to overreact until you're certain there's someone else in his life.

Throughout the evening, while the two of you are tangled together on the couch, you peek at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder where things started going wrong. There's a tension between the two of you, and though unspoken, its presence is well known.

You remember how only a few short months ago you would have been beyond excited to spend an evening with Spencer, and now you find yourself counting down the minutes until he leaves. He used to shower you in love and affection, but now his hand barely grazes your thigh.

When Spencer leaves for the night, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a goodnight. You realize as you shut the door that he hadn't told you that he loved you once.

- - - - -

Two weeks pass and Spencer has once again come back home from a case. This time his message asks you if you'd like to come over to his apartment. And you tell him you'll be there, but there's an odd sinking feeling residing in your chest.

Later in the evening you go to Spencer's apartment with distant memories dancing in your head. It seems like just yesterday you came here for the first time, bright eyed and head over heels in love with your boyfriend, who couldn't have been more perfect.

You walk in and place your coat on the rack beside the door, smiling at Spencer who stands with his hands in his pockets. Biting the insides of your cheeks, you wonder if he's even going to lay a finger on you tonight.

"How was your day?" He finally breaks the silence and you nod your head,

"It was okay. Just went to work and now I'm here." The conversation feels like one between new coworkers, not significant others of three years.

"Come on in, I rented your favorite movie and dinner should be here any minute." He finally takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head atop yours.

Feeling his arms hold you for the first time in almost a month is almost enough to drive you to tears. You take in his scent as it comforts you, and you nuzzle your head into his chest, wishing that whatever was happening between the two of you would pass and things would go back to normal. You miss Spencer's affections, your heart yearns to hear him declare his love for you.

After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back, and you pull it over top of you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

Spencer walks into the room after getting a glass of water, but he falls short of sitting beside you. He must've noticed something was wrong in the way you're sat on the couch.

While Spencer watches, you grab the hair between your thumb and pointer finger, pulling it through the fabric and hold it in front of you, eyes meeting Spencer's. Your hand shakes as adrenaline pumps through you, Spencer's jaw falls slack.

"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.

"A friend had to crash here for a few nights." He admits, and you wonder why you're just now hearing of this.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

"JJ, I work with her." He says, eyes casting down to the hair still in your grasp. Your heart wildly pumps in your chest.

"So you weren't going to tell me that a woman was staying the night with you?" Finally releasing the hair from your grasp, the realization dawns on you and it's like the puzzle pieces you'd collected over the last few weeks have suddenly put themselves together.

"No, she just needed a place to sleep for a few nights." He says, like he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"Spencer don't lie to me. I know you've been taking coffee to her in the mornings, you've been staying later, and the last time you came over you smelled like her." Your voice starts to shake and you step away from Spencer. Tears well in your eyes and you beg your body not to betray you right now.

"She's just a friend." Is all Spencer refutes your argument with. Your head shakes back and forth, the reality setting in.

"Spencer you've taken better care of her than you have me. Hell, last time we saw each other you barely touched me and you didn't even tell me you love me. And tonight you're doing the same thing." Your throat feels like it's closing up from battling your emotions.

As you wait for him to say something, anything, your bottom lip trembles. Where did this all go wrong? Was there anything you could've done? Could you have held him tighter or kissed him more? The questions race through your mind but are cut short by Spencer.

"I'm sorry. We were on a case and she told me she loves me. But, I promise you that she is just a friend." The words that leave his lips are like knives being dug into your eardrums. And with his words, the tears resting in your lash line fall over and cascade down your cheeks, one right after another.

"How could you? Spencer, how could you? We had everything going for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I thought you were the love of my life. But now you're just, you're just a lying traitor." You force the words out before you completely break down. Turning away from him, you rush to collect your things.

You're not even sure you put your shoes on the right feet but you don't care. The door of Spencer's apartment swings open and you take one last look at him. His mouth is open, eyes wet, but he says nothing.

He doesn't try to stop you as you leave his apartment, and that makes you sob even harder on your way home.

Is this really how things are ending between you?

- - - - -

"Come on have some fun!" Your friend, Sarah, nudges your shoulder, interrupting your daydream. It's a Friday night and the weather is nice, so she's begging to go out.

"I don't know Sarah, I'm not really in the mood." Your tone is melancholy, and all you want to do is crawl into bed. With a huff, Sarah steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders so that you're forced to look at her.

"You need this. I haven't seen you smile in weeks. Come on, go get ready. It'll be good for you." Her voice is kind, and soft, and you know she's only trying to help. As your lifelong best friend, she's always been in your corner with support and love.

"Fine." You relent, and go find something to wear. You're in no mood for anything uncomfortable or flashy, so you settle on a loose button up and a pair of ripped jeans.

"You look so good!" Sarah tries to hype you up as she grabs her keys, but it doesn't really work. You can't feel good while you're suffering on the inside. With her arm slung around your shoulder, you accompany her to whatever she has planned for tonight.

"Really?" You deadpan ask her as you stare at the neon light adorning the front of the building. This is quite literally the last place you wanted to be tonight, but here you are.

"Yes, it'll be fun, come on." Sarah grabs your hand and drags you alongside into the bar where the music is too loud and the people are even more annoying.

Against your wishes, you line up at the bar and wait to gain the bartender's attention. You figure if you're going to be here you'll need something to numb the experience. Sarah knows you've never been a fan of crowded places so you're confused as to why she even brought you here in the first place.

Once the two of you have your drinks in hand, you find an empty table and take a seat. As you sip, you look around at the patrons; people watching has always been quite enjoyable for you. Your eyes scan the bar and land on a tall man across the way. His smile is wide, hair dark and curly, eyes bright and soft.

Blinking rapidly, you pull your eyes away from the man and order another drink. Guilt eats you from inside as you realize you had been checking out another man; albeit one that looks oddly familiar. And surely another drink will help numb the guilt as well.

Hours later and two drinks turned into four. You feel your cheeks warm from the alcohol, and you're keenly aware that your eyes are back on the tall, handsome man from earlier.

"You should go say something." Sarah says, leaning on the table as she nurses her drink. Shaking your head, you disagree.

"No, I can't." You say, almost as if convincing yourself of your own answer. You're not even sure if you and Spencer are over, you can't possibly go introduce yourself to another man.

"Come on. He's been looking at you all night." She nudges you out of your seat and through the power of liquid courage, you relent.

Turning away from Sarah, you find the man easily and take a quick deep breath. It doesn't take you long to cross the bar and in seconds, you find yourself staring up at the man's green eyes. He's got a small smile on his face, his eyes gleam with curiosity.

"Hi." You smile up at the man, who smiles back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing talking to a man like me?" He smiles wider, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Your eyes dance from the man's smile to his eyes, relishing in their familiarity.

"My friend said I should come say something." You tell him, having nothing actually prepared to say to him beyond an introduction. The man finishes off his drink and looks over to where Sarah is. He nods,

"Well I'm glad she did. Can I get you another?" He raises the empty glass in his hand. While you feel a little tipsy, you know one more wouldn't hurt.

"Sure." You smile up at him and watch as he goes to order the two of you another drink.

While he's away, you glance over to Sarah, who's smiling at you and giving you a thumbs up across the bar. You suppress your smile, but you're thankful she's still here; she wouldn't leave you alone with a stranger and you know she'll be here to make sure you're okay. Her reassuring presence is probably why you agreed to approach the man in the first place.

The man comes back with two glasses in his hands, and he gives you one of them. He invites you back to his table, which is only a few feet away from where you are standing, and the two of you get to know each other. You learn that he's from the area, he works in finance for a fortune 500 company, and he recently got out of a long-term relationship.

You share how your relationship status is hugely unknown at this point, but spare him the details for your own pride's sake. Thankfully, he doesn't inquire and the conversation flows easily. He even makes you laugh a time or two, which hasn't happened in weeks.

As the night goes on, you find yourself sitting closer and closer to the man, drawn in by how he reminds you of someone you dearly miss. It's entirely clear to you why you're attracted to the man, but you push all of those thoughts away, the alcohol working diligently to cloud your logic and judgment and all you can focus on is the man's lips.

Not even twenty minutes later, you're pulling him in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap. Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else. However, that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.

His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.

Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find Sarah.

She must have been able to tell from the look on your face that you're ready to leave. And thankfully she doesn't ask you a single question on the way back to your house. The entire trip back, you stare out the window and wonder why you let that happen, and how you could've let yourself kiss another man. But mostly you just think about how it should've been Spencer.

Sarah drops you off and wishes you a goodnight, and you half-heartedly tell her goodbye.

Your mind is too preoccupied as you go through your nightly routine and by the time your head hits the pillow, your thoughts have shifted from the unknown man's lips to Spencer's.

You remember how his hands would map out every curve of your body and how his lips would kiss your tender skin, as if you'd break if he wasn't careful. Spencer would always hold you close to him as he showered you in love and affection, his hands unable to get enough of you. Even if the two of you were relaxing on the couch, he would always find a way to touch you, whether that meant you were cuddled in his arms or barely touching his shoulder.

A lone tear drips down your face as you try to sleep, missing having Spencer beside you, missing the feeling of his arms around you, and you know you'll miss seeing his gemstone eyes first thing when you wake up. You mourn the relationship, and can't help but wonder if your actions tonight were the final nail in the coffin.

That night, all you can dream about is Spencer, and how in love you used to be.

- - - - -

Awaking earlier than wanted, Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes the best he can. It's still dark outside, but he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep. And even if he did, he knows that the only thing he will dream about is you.

The past few weeks all of his dreams have centered around you. At first, they were about how you two met and your first few dates. They were vivid, almost as if they were happening all over again. He could clearly see the tulips he picked for your first date, and he remembers the shade of lipstick you wore that brought out your eyes in the best way possible.

As he makes his way through his morning routine, he's distracted by the traces of you that remain in his apartment. You still have clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush still sits on his bathroom counter. And most noticeably, your scent still lingers on his sheets.

But, his apartment now has traces of JJ too. Her blonde hair sticks to the blankets draped over the couch, her perfume embedded in the material. She had left a hair tie on his coffee table and the mug she used for coffee sits untouched in the sink.

Spencer knows that her confession of love was mainly spurred on by a life or death situation, but he would be lying if he said it didn't reawaken repressed feelings. Back in his early days at the BAU, he had been head over heels for her, but he moved on when she got together with Will. And truthfully, when he met you it was the happiest he had ever been, and he was convinced that you were his soul mate.

That was until JJ told him that she loved him.

A heavy feeling of guilt has taken residence in Spencer's chest since you walked out of his apartment. He knew that you had every right to be upset, and truthfully he doesn't know if the two of you will ever reconcile. As you walked out of the door he wanted to stop you, to beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let you go.

Staring at the couch, he can't help but wonder if your relationship had died the moment he let JJ stay over, the moment she laid on his couch could've been the exact moment your relationship took its last breath. Had that one decision been the beginning of the end?

And he can't help but wonder why he agreed to let her stay in the first place, after a confession of that magnitude, and why he hadn't told you. Was it his subconscious way of admitting he also has feelings for JJ, and that by allowing her to stay in his home it was an acknowledgment of that fact? Had he not told you because of the feelings he harbors for her? Would telling you force him to confront those emotions?

No matter what it may have meant, he can't help but to regret it. The look on your face as you called him a lying traitor will forever be ingrained in his mind. Spencer had never meant to hurt you, no, he loved you dearly.

As each day passes by without hearing from you, Spencer wonders if things are truly over for the two of you. His heart aches from your absence and he yearns to have you back in his arms. But he can't help but feel guilty as he realizes that he may have some of those same feelings for JJ.

- - - - -

Months had gone by since you last saw Spencer, and you finally feel like you can begin to heal. It took some time for you to process what had happened, and now you've come to be at peace with his decision. If he wanted to search for something greater, and found it in her, then there's nothing you could've done.

On a regular routine again, you enter your favorite coffee shop on your way to your new job, needing the extra caffeine. The warm air inside greets you and the rich scent of coffee fills the air.

After you order your usual, you stand off to the side to wait, pushing yourself up against a wall so that other people have room to move around. The lightly falling snow outside catches your attention and from the warmth of inside you can appreciate the beauty.

The barista calls your name out as the front door bell jingles. Grabbing your drink, you relish in how the warmth gives life back to your fingertips before turning to leave, preparing yourself to brace the bitter cold that awaits you outside.

But as your eyes land on the people who had just walked in, it seems as if the wintry cold followed you in after all. Spencer stands at the counter with a blonde haired, blue-eyed, woman next to him who looks like she just walked out of a magazine. Their cheeks are rosy from the cold, but you feel yours drain of all color. And if that wasn't enough, it's like your feet have been superglued to the floor, forcing you to watch as he orders for her with a smile on his face.

It seems he found something greater after all.

After the initial wave of sadness washes over you, you feel a familiar fire within you. Jealousy is an ugly beast, but you can't help the way your eyebrows knit together as you watch them, your thoughts consumed with how that should be you next to him, how it used to be you.

In fact, your jealously goes so far as to create hundreds of impulsive plans to earn his attention away from her. If you spilled your coffee, surely that would do the trick. Or if you tripped on your way out, that would be sure to make him look. Even the fleeting thought of jumping from the roof makes an appearance; the only consequence you can think of is how he'd surely come running straight to you.

But your imaginative plans are all for naught, as they grab their drinks and leave together. She laughs at something he said as the door shuts behind them. And you're still stuck in the middle of the coffee shop with one question floating around in your mind.

Did he really choose her over you?

- - - - -

Staring out of your window that's been frosted over with fresh snow, you can't help but to ponder how exactly you got to be where you are right now. In three days it'll be Christmas, and you've never dreaded the holiday more than you do in this moment.

A few evenings ago you had been rummaging through your closet and found the gift you planned on giving Spencer this Christmas. It was simple, but you knew he'd love it. He had always worn a purple scarf during the colder months, and when you saw this one you just knew he needed it. It was another scarf, but the seamstress who was selling it offered to stitch something on the back of it, and so you had asked her to stitch your initials on the back, so that even while he was away on cases he still had a piece of you with him.

Now the gift lays wrapped on your coffee table, where it silently taunts you with thoughts of what could've been. You stare at it, wondering if you should give it away, throw it away, send it through the mail, or do nothing with it at all.

Unable to look at the box any longer, you take it and put it with the rest of Spencer's things you intend to give back to him soon. Having his belongings in your home is slowly starting to drive you mad, and you know that in order to have any shot of getting over him, it all has to be gone.

In a momentary burst of determination, you grab the box of his belongings that sits in the back of your closet and you take it out to your car, despite the fact that the air is so cold it burns your face and that the snow is coming down at a considerable rate. You figure he's had you in his grasp for too long now and it's time to start reclaiming your home, your life, and begin piecing together who you're going to be after Spencer Reid.

The box is haphazardly shoved into your back seat and your hand quickly grazes the side of a book he had left on your nightstand, and as your luck would have it, you managed to give yourself a papercut. You hold your hand out of the car so you don't get blood on any of his things before closing the door with haste.

Your eyes cast down at the bright, crimson red blood that dots the pristine snow below your feet. Drops of blood roll down your finger and drip from the tip, each drip creating its own prominent mark in the snow. And you can't help but feel like it's more than just blood on the snow, that somehow it symbolizes how you may have very well killed what remained of your relationship with Spencer.

But he gave you no other choice.

- - - - -

Your insides twist and turn with anxiousness as you park your car along the street of a familiar curb. Looking back down at your phone screen, you confirm that this is the time you're supposed to be here before getting out of your car and picking up the box from the back seat.

After Christmas you had sent Spencer a text asking if you could come by and get your things that you had left in his apartment, and thankfully he agreed. You hadn't told him that you were bringing his things, and he hadn't asked for them, but you figured it was just common courtesy to bring them anyways. Plus you can't stand looking at the box any longer, all it does it resurface memories of a better time, one where you were happy and in love. Neither of those things are true anymore.

Walking up the stairs, you remember how excited you were the first time to come over and how you were awestruck by how well he decorated for a man. Of course you added a few things here and there over the years, but soon there will be no trace of you left. Your heart sinks with the realization that Spencer's apartment will no longer be your second home, his arms will no longer be your safe haven.

Once you reach his door, you knock lightly. You had partially hoped that he would just leave your things in the hall, and that the exchange would be easy, but of course he wouldn't do that. And within seconds of knocking on the door, he answers. His hair is messy and he's opted for his glasses today, your favorite look on him. Swallowing hard, you hold the box out in front of you.

"I think this is everything." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He steps further inside his apartment,

"Come on in." He invites you, and you wonder if you should accept. You know that if you walk in that a plethora of memories will invade your mind, and you know that if you don't that you may never receive the closure you need. After a few moments of contemplation, you step inside.

You place the box on the ground and put your hands in your pockets as you look around. The decorations you had placed around various locations are no longer there adorning the shelves or the walls, your spare coat no longer hangs from the rack beside the front door, and your handwritten notes are no longer on the front of the fridge. You swallow again and avert your eyes, pleading with yourself to not cry in front of him. But as your eyes move elsewhere, you spot a photograph that still hangs on the wall in his living room.

It was a sunny day in the early spring, and the two of you had just celebrated your one year anniversary. The two of you agreed that a nice picnic would be more than enough of a celebration, and honestly you were just happy that he wasn't being dragged away on a case that day. The two of you laid side by side on the blanket in the plush grass, content with one another's presence, fingers interlaced as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Before the sun went down you had asked him to take the picture, and you always loved how bright his smile was that day.

"This should be everything." He comes back into the entryway with a box in his arms. You spot every little decoration you had ever brought over, along with your clothes that you had almost forgotten about. Spencer places the box on the ground as well, and you nod, clearing the emotion from your throat.

"Thank you." You say and go to pick up your box and get out of his apartment. Truthfully, there's a part within you that wants him to beg you to stay, you hope that he will profess his undying love for you and that you won't have to leave.

No matter how heartbroken you are over his decision, you know that you would take him back in a heartbeat. Your soul still aches for his touch and you're not sure that feeling will ever fade. The intensity with which you love him is passionate and all encompassing. For just another moment in his arms, you can't even begin to list everything you would give and sacrifice. His hugs were always the most comforting, his words always sweet and honeyed, his lips always soft.

Until they were for the blonde-haired woman who came in and took everything from you.

Once the box is in your hands, you give him a weak smile and are almost brought to tears just by looking at his face. Your sweet, sweet Spencer is so close yet has never been farther away. Feeling tears well in your lash line, you commit to memory just how beautiful he is for what is very well the final time you'll ever see him.

In an instant, flashes of what your future could've been runs through your mind. You see the two of you hand in hand at the end of an aisle, long nights of waiting for him to come back home only to be greeted with the most loving kisses, and countless mornings waking up in his arms. You were prepared to give him everything, but now you're left with nothing except the memories of when he still loved you.

Giving him one last chance to say something, your hope begins fizzling out. There's only one thing you want to hear him say, and you're coming to understand that you'll likely never hear those words come from his mouth.

When it's clear that there's nothing left to say, you turn and open the front door. Before the door gets closed on you, you turn to look at him just one last time. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you can almost swear you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Goodbye, Spencer." You say as a lone tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Feeling your bottom lip beginning to tremble, you make yourself walk away before you have a full breakdown in the hallway right in front of him.

The ride back home is silent, except for the occasional sound of your sniffles. Before the exchange of belongings, you had held out hope that it meant that there might still be hope. But now there's nothing left to give you hope.

It seems things are really over now.

- - - - -

Spencer's phone lights up on his counter, catching his eye as he was walking by. Glancing at it quickly, he sees your name attached to the message. He picks the phone up and reads the message that reads less like a text and more like a cordial email.

"Hi, hope all is well. I was wondering if there is a time that I could come by and collect the rest of my things?"

The words make his heart sink, but he replies and lets you know when he'll be home. He knew that this day would eventually come, but he wasn't prepared for it to be so soon. Placing his phone back down on the counter, he looks around and notices just how many traces there are of you everywhere he looks.

In every part of his apartment he can easily recall a memory the two of you made there. The kitchen is where he remembers making cookies together on a friday night, the living room reminds him of the times you fell asleep in his lap, and the bedroom reminds him of all the mornings he was lucky enough to be awoken by your gentle kisses.

But he respects your wishes and begins collecting your things, committing each one to memory. With each and every little item he packs away, he finds himself becoming more and more angry with himself. He can't understand why he jeopardized the love of his life for JJ. Sure, he thought he loved her, and the two of them had spent extra time together after her confession, but after you left Spencer realized that he could never love JJ the way he loves you. And so he came to the painful conclusion that he could only ever love JJ as a close friend, but only after breaking your heart and shattering your relationship he cherished so dearly.

Spencer knows that he has forfeited every right to be with you by making those series of poor decisions but it doesn't make it any easier for him to accept.

As he packs away the rest of your things, he finally finds himself at his dresser, where some of your clothes remain. He remembers the day you brought some of your wardrobe over and he was happy to make room for you. You had told him that by keeping some of your things here that you two could spend more time together as you wouldn't have to go back and forth between homes when staying over or going out. But he never needed convincing, he would've let you do whatever you wanted as long as it kept that smile on your face.

And all too soon, you show up at his apartment with a box in your arms, filled to the brim with his belongings. As soon as he sees your face behind the door, he feels like he wants to collapse to his knees and beg for you to forgive him.

But instead, he gathers your things and returns them to you when you should be staying here. You should be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. He watches as the photo on the wall catches your eye, and even he can't help but to look at it as well.

Seeing the two of you so happy together in a moment frozen in time makes his throat constrict with emotion, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to see you smile like that again, to hold and love and cherish you until the end of time.

Instead, he watches as you turn and leave his apartment. The realization hits him like a brick wall that this could very well be the last time he ever sees you, and he can't keep his composure.  A tear escapes his eye and falls as you turn around and wish him farewell.

Once the door closes behind you, Spencer finally collapses to his knees, sobs wracking through his body while he mentally curses himself for not saying more, for not fighting harder for you.

His chest hurts from crying, but he can't find it within himself to care about anything other than you. He wishes he could forget, things would be easier that way. But instead he's sentenced to a life where he has no choice but to remember everything.

That night while he lays in bed, throat raw and eyes sore, all he can think about is you. The way you fit in his arms like you were made just for him, how you would rake your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and how sometimes, after particularly hard cases, you would hold him close.

As the hours pass and he gives into sleep, he can almost swear he feels your arms wrapping around him while you whisper for him to "come here", like you always did. Your voice was always soft and understanding as you took him into your warm embrace.

But now the room feels colder than it ever has before, and there's nobody to blame but himself.

- - - - -

A warm spring breeze blows your hair and with it comes the sweet smell of budding flowers. The sun is shining brightly through the puffy, white clouds and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

Once the snow had melted and signs of life began springing back up, it seems your spirits rose as well. Sure, some days are harder than others and you still miss Spencer, but you're able to live without the constant ache in your chest.

You've taken the time to reflect on what happened, and you have come to accept that there was nothing more you could've done. You had given him your entire heart, but that just wasn't enough for him. He searched for something better, something greater, and it seems like he found it. You only hope she makes him happier than you could have, and that she loves him well.

But no matter how hard you work on healing yourself, you can't silence the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of just how badly you want to see him again. You yearn to even just see him from a distance, and you desperately crave to hear him tell you that he still loves you.

You wish that he could be here sharing this wonderful afternoon by your side, hand in hand and you wish that things had played out differently. Maybe you two would've been engaged, or even married, by now. After all, tomorrow would've been your five year anniversary.

No matter how much time passes you still don't think you're ready to try to get back out there, much to Sarah's disproval. It just wouldn't be fair to the other man, the way you would still see parts of Spencer in him.

With a sigh, you can't help but think of what could've been, how your future with Spencer could've been filled with happiness, laughter, love, and so much more. But no, instead you sit alone on a bench in the middle of a busy park.

After hours of soaking in the warm sun, you decide it's time to go back home. As you walk down the street you recount memories you've thought of a hundred times before and wonder if maybe your path will cross with Spencer's again someday.

Before you open your front door you stop and take a deep breath. The looming anniversary date has made you a touch more melancholy and sentimental than usual and after a long day of reflection, you're finally ready to admit something to yourself that you've been pushing away for far too long.

It's over now.

[1bisschenmelancholie]

The Night Didn’t End, It Just Got Quieter

⋆˚࿔ emily prentiss x jennifer jareau / jj

jj texts her late. emily shows up anyway. the rain gets louder. so do the things they don’t say. wine, blankets, almosts. they wake up with coffee and something real.

⋆˚࿔ a/n: they are SO cute

The storm started around nine.

It was just a whisper at first—air thickening, clouds rolling in like an uninvited thought. But by the time Emily pulled up to JJ's place, the sky had cracked open like something furious, and rain hit the windshield in heavy, uneven sheets.

She didn't bring an umbrella. She also didn't turn the car off right away.

The dashboard glowed. The engine hummed. She sat there, staring at JJ's porch light through the blur of water, wondering if she was being stupid. This wasn't planned. JJ had texted her earlier with something like, "Weird night. You up?" and Emily hadn't thought twice before answering "Always."

Which wasn't true.

But she came anyway.

—

JJ opened the door in a hoodie and leggings, barefoot, blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. She looked like someone trying to appear fine.

"You always knock like that?" she asked.

Emily looked down. Her knuckles were wet.

"I thought I was going to drown on your porch."

JJ stepped aside. "You could've texted."

"You said you were up."

"I didn't say I'd open the door for drowned rats."

Emily cracked a smile. "Too late now."

JJ's place was warm—small, lived-in. Blankets thrown across the couch, lights dim, candles burning low like the power might go out. The thunder rolled again, soft this time, but close. JJ flinched just a little. Barely noticeable.

Emily noticed.

—

JJ handed her a towel.

"You okay?" Emily asked, casually, like the question didn't mean anything.

JJ shrugged. "Storm just makes the house feel louder."

Emily didn't push it.

JJ disappeared into the kitchen, muttering something about wine. Emily shed her jacket, toed off her boots, and stood in the living room like she'd never been here before—even though she had.

Once.

Last fall. After a case that hit too hard. They hadn't even spoken much then. Just a movie, blankets, Emily falling asleep with JJ's shoulder against her own.

She remembered the exact shape of that silence.

JJ returned with two glasses and a bottle that didn't bother with labels.

"Red or... red?"

Emily took a glass. "Living dangerously."

JJ raised hers in mock salute. "Welcome to the danger zone."

They clinked.

—

It was easy at first.

They curled up on the couch like it was instinct—Emily's legs tucked under her, JJ wrapped in that god-awful plaid throw she refused to get rid of. They didn't talk about work. They didn't talk about Doyle. They didn't talk about the things Emily still dreamed about.

They talked about Garcia's new glasses, about Rossi dating someone with a yacht, about Henry's obsession with dinosaurs.

Every now and then, thunder cracked again, and JJ would stiffen just slightly, fingers tightening around her glass.

Emily pretended not to notice. Until she didn't.

"You alright?"

JJ tried to brush it off with a smile. "It's stupid."

"Try me."

JJ looked at her glass. "I've hated storms since I was a kid."

Emily nodded. "Not stupid."

"I know it's not real danger. It just... feels like it."

Emily didn't say anything. She just moved her hand—casual, quiet—and let her fingers brush against JJ's knee where the blanket had slipped. Just enough pressure to say I'm here. Nothing more.

JJ didn't pull away.

—

By the second glass of wine, the tension had changed.

It wasn't gone. It was just... different. Heavier. Quieter. The kind that sits under your ribs and makes you breathe differently.

Emily's arm was still pressed to JJ's. Their legs touched now—bare skin brushing every time someone shifted. No one moved too far. The wine bottle sat between them like a loaded question.

"You know," JJ said, voice lower, "you don't have to come running every time I text."

Emily didn't answer right away. She looked over. JJ's face was soft in the stormlight—shadowed, backlit by candles. Her expression unreadable.

"I don't mind running," Emily said.

JJ let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh.

"I just mean—" she started, but didn't finish.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "What?"

JJ shook her head. "You're hard to talk to sometimes."

Emily tilted her head. "That's rich coming from you."

JJ gave her a look—half annoyed, half amused—and pushed at her shoulder. Just a playful little nudge.

But her hand stayed there.

Resting on Emily's upper arm.

Neither of them commented on it.

—

Another thunderclap hit, louder this time. JJ visibly flinched.

Emily shifted. "Here," she said, already moving before she thought too hard about it.

She pulled JJ in gently, letting her lean against her chest, arm wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn't planned. It just was.

JJ didn't resist.

In fact—she melted into it.

Emily could feel her heartbeat, fast and real under the sweatshirt. Could smell her shampoo. Could feel JJ's breath where it hit her collarbone. JJ was curled into her like this had happened a hundred times before. But it hadn't.

Not once.

"You okay?" Emily murmured.

JJ nodded against her. "You're warm."

Emily smiled into her hair. "Don't tell anyone."

JJ didn't move. "I won't if you don't."

And then she laughed—quiet, soft, a little shaky.

Emily felt her chest twist.

She didn't say anything else.

But she didn't let go either.

—

They stayed like that for longer than either of them realized.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the storm. Maybe it was years of almosts finally pushing forward like the rain pressing against the windows.

But then Emily shifted again. Not away—toward. Just slightly. Just enough.

Her hand brushed along JJ's side, fingers slipping under the hem of the sweatshirt without really meaning to. Warm skin. A breath caught.

JJ looked up.

And for the first time all night, the silence between them wasn't soft. It was charged.

Emily blinked, caught mid-movement.

"Sorry," she said, barely audible.

JJ didn't say anything. Just held her gaze.

Then she whispered, "You don't have to be."

Emily didn't move—not yet. The moment hung there, like a single held note. JJ was so close. Her breath was warm. Her mouth was parted just slightly. All it would take was one more inch. One choice.

But then JJ's phone buzzed.

Loud. Shrill. Ugly against the quiet of the moment.

She jumped, startled, pulling back just a fraction as thunder cracked again outside.

Emily exhaled, slow.

JJ fumbled for her phone and blinked down at the screen. "It's Garcia."

Emily didn't say anything. She just leaned back on the couch, hands falling into her lap like she needed somewhere to put the tension.

JJ answered with a voice that was far too casual. "Hey, Pen."

On speaker.

"Jayje," Garcia chirped. "Hi. Okay, sorry, I know it's late—but are you alive? You sent me one weird text earlier and then fell off the map. I was about two minutes from hacking a security cam."

"I'm fine. Just... home."

"Alone?"

JJ glanced at Emily, whose mouth quirked just slightly.

"Yes."

Garcia paused. "Are you lying?"

Emily grabbed her wine glass. JJ kicked her shin under the blanket.

"I'm fine, Penelope."

"Okay, okay. Just checking. But if you are doing anything fun, please, I beg you—hydrate. Stretch. Pace yourselves."

JJ groaned. "Goodnight, Garcia."

"Nighty-night, my suspiciously cagey blonde."

The call ended.

Silence again.

Emily raised her glass. "That was subtle."

JJ laughed, still flushed. "She knows everything."

Emily smiled, but her eyes didn't leave her. "Does she know you flinch every time it thunders?"

JJ looked away, just for a second. "Maybe."

Emily stood up slowly, stretching. Her shirt rode up just slightly, and JJ definitely looked. She tried not to.

"You want something warm?" Emily asked. "Tea?"

JJ blinked. "You make tea?"

"No. But I know where you keep it."

JJ followed her to the kitchen.

⸻

The kitchen was narrow and dimly lit, soft yellow light under the cabinets glowing like something from a dream. The storm still rumbled low outside, but here—everything felt like it had stilled.

JJ leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Emily fumble through a cupboard.

"You've been here once and you still know where everything is?"

Emily glanced over her shoulder. "I remember things."

JJ smiled. "So do I."

That made Emily turn.

The tea forgotten.

JJ didn't move. She was still leaning against the counter, eyes unreadable but bright. Her voice was quieter now.

"You were going to kiss me earlier."

Emily stepped forward, slowly.

JJ's arms dropped to her sides.

"I still could," Emily said, voice low.

JJ's breath caught. "Yeah?"

Emily nodded once.

And this time—this time JJ met her halfway.

The kiss wasn't tentative. It wasn't soft.

It was everything they'd been trying not to say.

JJ's hands found Emily's waist. Emily pushed her gently back into the counter, her palms bracing against it on either side of JJ's hips. Their mouths moved in tandem—hungry, slow, real. JJ gasped when Emily tilted her head and deepened the kiss, her fingers digging into Emily's shirt like she was afraid she might disappear.

They kissed like people who knew each other too well.

Who had waited too long.

Emily pulled back for half a second just to look at her—eyes half-lidded, lips pink and parted, breathing uneven.

JJ whispered, "Don't stop."

Emily kissed her again.

They shifted—sideways, laughing into each other's mouths when JJ bumped the drawer handle with her hip. JJ tugged Emily closer, wrapping an arm around her neck, her other hand sliding up into her hair. The kiss turned messier, deeper, edged with all the wanting they hadn't named.

Emily pressed her hand to JJ's side—just under the hem of the sweatshirt again—and this time, JJ didn't flinch. She arched into it.

Thunder cracked. JJ stilled for a second.

Emily pulled back just enough to murmur, "I'm here."

JJ nodded. Her voice broke when she whispered, "I know."

Emily kissed her cheek. Her jaw. Her mouth again.

And this time, JJ didn't hold anything back.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever—pressed together in the glow of a too-small kitchen, mouths finding each other again and again like they were afraid to stop.

And maybe they were.

—

Eventually, Emily rested her forehead against JJ's, both of them flushed and breathless and still holding on.

"I don't want this to be a one-night thing," Emily said quietly.

JJ's eyes flickered open. "It's not."

Emily smiled. "Okay."

JJ smiled back, fingers still tangled in her shirt. "You're still making tea, though."

Emily laughed. "I forgot the kettle."

"You were distracted."

"Yeah," Emily said. "I was."

And then, because she couldn't help herself—she kissed her one more time.

Slower now.

Surer.

Because now, finally... they both knew.

—

The storm was gone by morning.

Not all the way—just faded. Like a voice in the next room. The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, leaving everything damp and quiet, the kind of soft grey light that made the world feel slower.

Emily woke up to the smell of coffee.

She was alone on the couch. Barely. Her sweatshirt was rumpled. The blanket that had been draped over JJ's shoulders last night was now half on the floor, half wrapped around her legs. Her neck ached in the good kind of way.

Voices in her head murmured things like What did we just do?

But louder than that was: Thank god we finally did.

She sat up, ran a hand through her hair, and stood. Her socks slipped on the hardwood a little, and when she padded into the kitchen, JJ was there—back to her, hair wet, a different hoodie now, humming softly as she poured two mugs.

Emily leaned against the doorframe.

"You always make coffee like this for your guests?"

JJ glanced over her shoulder, startled—then smirked. "Only the ones who sleep on my couch after making out with me in the kitchen."

Emily grinned, stepping in closer. "Good to know."

JJ slid her a mug. "Still warm."

Emily took it, their fingers brushing. Too long to be accidental.

JJ didn't pull away.

Neither did Emily.

For a minute, they stood like that—mugs in hand, barely touching, soft light painting shadows over everything. Neither of them was fully awake. But it didn't matter.

"You okay?" JJ asked eventually, her voice lower now.

Emily looked at her over the rim of her mug. "Better than okay."

JJ gave her a small smile. "Me too."

A pause.

"You stayed," JJ added.

"You didn't ask me to leave."

"I didn't want to."

Emily nodded once. "Then I won't."

They sat at the table, legs brushing. Quiet filled the space between their words, but it was the good kind now. Full of possibility.

"I'm scared," JJ said after a while.

Emily looked up. "Of this?"

"No. Of me. Of what I do when I'm scared."

Emily reached across the table, covered her hand. "Then we take it slow. Okay?"

JJ met her eyes.

"Okay."

They both smiled.

And just like that—it wasn't a maybe anymore.

It was something.

And it had already started.

[miedei]

plots and plans

the team's gotten to know spencer's gf very well... but now there's a new face in the bau (aka emily gets initiated into the team... by meeting mystery girl!)

a/n: this fic took an ungodly amount of time its been in my drafts for months but <333 mystery girl <333 (this is fr just a bau team fic at this point)

(look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), the team plotting, use of y/n eugghhhhh

wc: 3.4k

part one | part two | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

SSA Emily Prentiss is perfectly wonderful. Garcia thinks so, and so does Morgan. Sure, they miss Elle, and they miss working with her, but leaving the BAU was something she’d needed. Besides, Penelope wasn’t letting Elle out of the team’s outings anyway. 

So, the two of them really have nothing against Prentiss. She’s kind, good at her job, and fits into the dynamic of the team well. However, at the end of her third case with the team, something of interest happens that makes them start to plot against her. Lovingly.

Morgan’s on the phone with Garcia, letting her know that the unsub was in custody, when Emily comes up to him, tapping his shoulder. Without hanging up, he draws the phone away from his ear, turning to her questioningly.

“Morgan. Can I ask you something? About Reid?” At his sound of agreement, she plows on.

“Does he… He’s so young. Do you think he’s had the social experiences he needs?” She shakes her head slowly. “He’s so sweet that it makes me worry. I mean, a kid going to university at 14, that’s got to make you miss out on a lot of things, right?” She gestures to Spencer, and Morgan turns to see him. 

Spencer is fiending off the officers mobbing him with thanks and congratulations for his breakthrough on the case. A smile creeps up on Morgan’s face, watching him fiddle with his hands and bow his head nervously, trying to find a way out of the group.

“I mean, yeah, Reid’s a little clueless in some ways, but I don’t think it really affects him too much. He’s learned to adapt quickly.”

Emily frowns, still looking at Spencer. “I feel like there are things everyone deserves to experience, you know? He hasn’t been able to do so many things because he’s achieved so much. I mean, he’s never even dated someone, has he? Did you see the way he handled that witness?”

Morgan bites back the urge to laugh uncontrollably. Earlier in the case, Spencer was interrogating a witness, Morgan, Emily and Gideon watching through the one-way mirror. He recalls the way the woman grabbed hold of Spencer’s patterned tie, twisting the fabric in her fingers with a sly smile. Spencer, the sweetheart he is, had recognised the flirting, but did his best not to mention it, pulling his tie out of her grip multiple times as he stuttered through his questions, until Gideon came in to save him. 

Morgan recognised that for what it was, Spencer’s incredulity that anyone other than you, the person he’s so obsessed with, would ever try something with him. 

But Emily, poor, sweet, Emily, had assumed the same thing the rest of the team had, years ago. That Spencer was nothing more than an inexperienced nervous wreck, that had never even kissed a girl. Morgan shamefully remembers the time he’d been proven wrong of this same assumption.

Emily’s face is so earnest, that Morgan almost doesn’t want to pop the bubble, disturb her impression of Reid. Instead, he just pats her shoulder with the hand not holding his phone.

“Trust me, Prentiss. Reid’s missed a few things, but he’s fine.”

Walking away from her, he remembers that he didn’t hang up the phone, bringing it up to his ear to hear Garcia speaking rapidly, clearly having heard his exchange with Emily.

“-and she doesn’t know! Oh my god, you hunk, wouldn’t that be so good? She’d experience what we did back then and-” Morgan cuts her off. 

“Babygirl, what? I didn’t catch that first bit, who’s going to experience what?”

Garcia takes a deep breath, and Morgan can picture her smile. “Okay, I know you're always thinking, ‘what is the wonderful thing about having the most beautiful and brilliant woman you’ve ever seen in your life?’, and, sweetheart I’ll tell you. It’s that I have a wonderful, wonderful brain, and I have a plan we have to set in motion.”

Derek sighs, but he knows he’s all in before she even says the word. “Alright, princess. Hit me with it.”

Garcia insists that the plan must be unfolded in three stages. Three stages, in order to make sure that Emily’s introduction to you will be just as bewildering as it was to them.

Stage 1: Confirmation. 

Emily’s assumption of Spencer’s inexperience had to be nurtured, demonstrated to her, to lull her into a false sense of security, the way the team had for far too long. 

Morgan and Garcia begin just one week after the case, a paperwork day where the team is confined to the bullpen for hours. Emily is sat at her desk, across the aisle from Morgan’s, when Garcia walks by, a phony excuse for her presence spilling out of her mouth. 

“Just got to drop these files off to Gideon!” She speaks too loudly, to no one in particular, and Morgan groans internally at her unsubtlety. Emily quirks an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t say anything, even when Garcia taps her nose in a very exaggerated manner. 

No time to cover up for her, Morgan’s got work to do, and a time limit to boot.

“So, Prentiss. You’ve had three cases here so far, you’ve gotten to know the team. I wanna know, what are your impressions of all of us?” Emily narrows her eyes at him, but swivels her chair so she’s facing him. Bingo. 

He grins as she leans forward, speaking lightly. “My impressions? What, you want me to profile you guys?” 

He holds up a finger. “Ah ah ah. I’m a profiler too, don’t act like you haven’t been doing that to us since the day we met. Now, tell me. Why don’t you start with, say, Reid?” He winces internally, hearing the eagerness in his voice. Despite that, Emily replies readily.

“Well, I’m probably just going to tell you things you already know. He’s brilliant, insecure, anxious about not only himself but us, worries about his mother all the time. Socially unsure of himself, especially in non-professional settings.” As she speaks, Spencer walks into the bullpen from Gideon’s office, accompanied by Garcia, whose eyes are filled with poorly-contained mischief.

“...and, my good doctor, she was flirting with you! Didn’t you see the way she tried to give you coffee for free?” An expression of puzzlement flits across Spencer’s face, looking at Garcia as he grips the file in his hand. 

“Garcia, why are we talking about this again? That happened weeks ago, and I still don’t think she was doing anything more than-” She cuts him off with a palm facing him, barreling forward with her rant, eyeing Prentiss blatantly as she speaks.

“You never think they’re doing anything more until they’re the ones gripping those little ties of yours. Spencer, you don’t think anyone is ever flirting with you!” Prentiss nods at Morgan, speaking under her breath with a smirk.

“Uncomfortable in non-professional settings, especially romantic ones.” She sits back in her desk chair, swivelling away as Garcia ushers Spencer to his desk, ignoring all of his questions. 

Spencer sits with a huff, confused. He pulls out his phone surreptitiously. 

SPENCE <3: They’re being weird. Again.

Garcia has filled JJ in, and she is ecstatic. She still remembers the horrifying embarrassment that she hadn’t realised something so huge about her best friend. It might be a little juvenile, but it will definitely bring her a little comfort if Emily, profiler extraordinaire, makes the same mistake. 

It’s five days later, and they’ve moved onto the second phase of the plan.

Step 2: Doubt.

Garcia has decided that sowing seeds of confusion, the way the team had been confronted that one time at the bar, was the way to make sure Emily has the full experience of being one-upped by that infuriating man, according to her.

JJ’s role is the whisperer, making sure that Emily witnesses suspicious activity. She’s taking this immensely seriously, Garcia having impressed upon her the responsibility of this guise. 

Walking past Spencer’s desk, she shoots a glance at Emily, confirming her distraction, before speaking into the room, “Everyone had a good day off yesterday? Spence, went to that exhibit at the Living Museum?” 

A dreamy smile flashes over Spencer’s face, before he makes sure to school his features, allowing only a small grin to remain. “Um, yeah. We went to go see the aviary, they’ve got some new Southeast Asian birds in.” Yes. JJ resists the urge to smirk, but her hopes are quickly dashed when Spencer moves on without a word. “I think Gideon would really enjoy it actually, I’ve been meaning to…” She groans internally, tuning out of his meandering ramble about bird migration patterns. There’s no way Emily clocked that tiny ‘we’. 

JJ isn’t one to give up easily, though. Any good plan requires patience, so she waits another day before attempting again.

The team is on the jet on the way to a case, and JJ is sitting strategically at the table with Emily, Derek, Spencer, and Garcia on the grainy laptop screen. Garcia’s hands fly around animatedly as she finishes describing the state of the case. 

Hotch raises his head from the case file, proceeding to assign everyone preliminary tasks, when JJ nods at Garcia subtly, and watches as she begins to rush around her office in a whirl, finally snatching up her cell phone. It’s a wonder that no one else notices the rush of movement on the screen, leaving JJ holding her breath, hoping that Emily or Spencer don’t catch wind. 

Finally, two minutes later, Garcia sits back down at her desk, feigning nonchalance. 

“Yep! Okay, sounds like you guys all have it under control, so— I’m going to go, do my techy things in my techy room. Okay? Garcia out!” 

The image of her disappears from the screen, and JJ grips her mug tightly, fearing that Garcia gave it away. Gideon chuckles, but other than that, it seems that everyone has written it off as a regular Garcia-ism. Thank god. Hotch continues his spiel.

A few seconds later, Spencer’s cell phone rings, the ringtone different from the one everyone is used to hearing when he’s called by one of the team members, but JJ recognizes the 8-bit rendition of Vivaldi’s Summer that you helped him set up for your number.

She can see Emily tilt her head from next to her, but JJ resists the urge to look up, keeping her eyes trained on the case file in her hands, and nodding along with Hotch’s words. 

The sound of Spencer rustling around for his phone meets her ears, and the subtle sigh of happiness that he lets out when he sees the caller ID. The beep of him accepting the call and standing to walk to the kitchenette float through the cabin, and the whispered ‘excuse me’ when he walks into the curtained room.

JJ can almost hear the confusion radiating from Emily, knowing that the newer agent’s utterly baffled at the sight of Spencer missing out on the discussion currently happening.

She can only pat herself on the back for having maneuvered Emily into the seat closest to the kitchenette, too, because the way she stiffens when hearing Spencer’s saccharine-sweet voice say ‘hey, angel’ is just the cherry on top.

JJ whips out her cell phone, texting Garcia discreetly that the plan was a success, receiving a flurry of emojis in return. Unseen, Gideon looks over her shoulder.

In the kitchenette, Spencer furrows his brows, confused. 

“Wait, Garcia told you I needed to talk?” 

Your tinny voice flows through the phone and into his ear. 

“Yeah! She texted and said you asked for me but wouldn’t call for some reason? I don’t know, it was strange. You know I don’t call you when you’re on a case, but I thought it was an emergency or something.” 

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“I told you, they’re being weird! I asked Morgan what was going on and he just laughed.”

Your matching sigh rings out. “If they’re not going to tell you, I think there’s nothing to do but let it happen until it comes out. They always tell in the end, anyway.”

His shoulders slump in annoyance, but he begins to nod. 

“I guess you’re right. It’s still annoying.”

The case wraps up four long days later, and the team pile into a booth at O’ Keefe’s all in similar states of sleep-deprived delirium. Spencer would much rather be at home right now, but Garcia was persuasive as usual, crooning on about how ‘your ladylove gets you every day, can’t you give us one evening?’. 

Despite his love for the team, their increased strangeness hasn’t abated over the days they were working. 

Even now, JJ, Derek and Penelope sit across from Spencer in the booth, huddled around each other and whispering behind cupped hands. Granted, they weren’t this obvious over the last few days, but their drinks have only weakened their resolve to not let Spencer and Emily in on whatever they’re doing, not broken it. 

Making up his mind to ignore them, Spencer has resorted to leaning into the other end of the booth, chatting idly with Gideon, Hotch and Emily. Hotch is smilier than usual, three beers deep and showing them a seemingly endless amount of baby pictures of Jack from his wallet. 

He can’t help but smile at the grainy photos of the chubby baby, grinning to himself at the memory of the last time he saw Jack. 

He’d been leaving the office to meet you, and ran into Hotch and Haley in the elevator, stroller in tow. The image of you excitedly waving at little Jack, holding out your hand and letting him grip on to your index finger is burned into his brain. He’ll probably never forget it, eidetic memory or not. 

The multiple drinks he’s had allow a lovestruck look to settle on his face as he half-listens to Hotch’s tales. They also make sure that he doesn’t notice the puzzled look that Emily flashes at him, same as the ones she’s been sneaking for days now. 

However, no amount of drinks can let him ignore the strange way that Gideon is acting. The stately profiler is normally rather talkative on nights like these, subtly teasing the team or devolving into long tangents about an old far-fetched story. 

Tonight, however, he’s silent, merely nodding along to Hotch’s words. 

Spencer can’t help but be weirded out, especially when he catches Gideon looking over at him with an expression of repressed mirth, as if he knows something Spencer doesn’t. It’s slightly infuriating, the way it feels as though everyone is keeping things from him these days. 

He knows it’s not exactly the smartest thing to do, but he offers to go to the bar for another round of drinks. If they’re going to be weird, he might as well have something to help tide him over. 

You’re at home when Gideon calls, informing you that Spencer’s gotten more drunk than usual, and it’s probably a good idea that you come get him. 

As you pull on your coat, you can hear Spencer ranting loudly about Rachmaninoff in the background, laughing to yourself when Gideon assures you that he’s fine. 

(Curiously, you hear an unfamiliar voice question Gideon, ‘Who’re you calling?’ before he hangs up.)

Arriving at the dimly lit bar, you crane your neck to try and glimpse Spencer and his coworkers, coming up blank. 

You’re just about to call Gideon again when a suspiciously swaying, lanky individual catches your eye. Sure enough, Spencer is standing by a wall, gripping a glass in both hands and staring into the middle distance, seemingly alone. 

Pocketing your cell phone, you make your way over to him, feeling a familiar infatuated smile start to bloom on your face. 

“Hey, handsome. You here alone?” He blinks rapidly before focusing on you, eyes widening dramatically. 

“You’re here! How are you here, I thought-” He hiccups, the action causing his entire body to wobble, your hand shooting out to steady him. 

“I thought you were at home!” He takes the hand you have on his waist, tugging you closer until he can drape himself against your side, tall frame hunched over you. 

You have to giggle, widening your stance so you can support the two of you as you look around the bar, hoping to find any of his coworkers. 

Unfortunately, you come up blank, assuming they're in the booths towards the back that you can’t see. Sighing, your hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck, causing Spencer to sigh happily, bending even further so that his face is buried in your hair. 

“Spence, where’s the team? We’ve gotta say goodbye before we go,” You murmur softly, feeling him relax further and further. His voice is higher than normal, muffled due to his refusing to raise his head from yours. 

“I dunno, they’re sitting… somewhere, and Emily said she’d come find me after I came here. Did you know, she listens to Eric Carmen? I was telling her about the lawsuit Rachmaninoff’s estate filed against him, and…” 

He must keep talking, you can feel the vibrations against the crown of your head, but he’s shifted his face to where his mouth is pressed against your scalp, taking with it any hope of understanding his words.

You’re waiting patiently for him to finish, when a dark-haired woman catches your eye. She stands a few feet away from you, peering at you curiously, as if trying to suss something out. Her face is obscured due to the shadowy lights, but she looks vaguely familiar. 

Stopping your ministrations on Spencer’s neck, you entreat him to look up. 

“Hey, do you know who that is?” He raises his head with a heaving sigh, as if it’s taking all his energy. He nods once, before returning his face to your hair, snatching your hand and placing it on the back of his neck again. 

“Yeah, it’s Prentiss.” He falls silent after that, but at least he gave you something. 

You’ve heard a lot about Emily Prentiss from him, although you haven’t had the chance to meet her yet. Waving her over, you smile brightly. 

“Hi! You’re Emily?”

She walks over to you, expression wary, until she catches a proper glimpse of Spencer’s face, at least, what’s visible of it. 

“Reid? It is you…” Her face is bewildered, confused, looking at you. 

“Sorry, who are you?” You stick out the hand that Spencer isn’t holding hostage, shaking hers.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, his girlfriend. It’s really nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things from Spencer and the others.” She looks more stunned, if that’s possible, but stutters out a greeting. 

It reminds you of the time you met the rest of the team, the way they’d stared incredulously at you when Spencer introduced you. Thinking back to Penelope’s multiple texts confirming that you weren’t coming tonight, it seems you’ve figured out why they’ve been acting weird.

You can’t help but smile pityingly at her, knowing how she’s feeling. Gesturing at the man clinging on to you, you give her an out from the conversation.

“I think I should be taking him home. Would you mind telling the rest where we went? I don’t want them to worry.”

She nods wordlessly, watching after you as you slowly lead Spencer out of the bar and into the night. 

SSA Emily Prentiss is a profiler. A spy. She’s accustomed to learning everything there is to know about an individual within a few days of knowing them. It’s for these reasons that she stands, dumbstruck, in the middle of O’ Keefe’s. 

Spencer Reid has a girlfriend. And she didn’t figure it out?

She resolves to go back through the profiling notes she’d taken in her time at the academy. Maybe twice. 

Shuffling back to the booth, she’s stuck in her head, eyes wide and thoughts flickering at ten times their normal speed. It’s clearly noticeable, Derek looking concerned when she slides into her seat once more. 

“Prentiss? Are you okay?”

She reaches out to snag her beer, turning the glass in her hand. Her voice is low, still confused as to how she missed it. 

“Spencer’s girlfriend came to take him home.”

Her words incite identically incredulous squawks from JJ, Morgan and Garcia, all of them incensed. 

“You met her? She wasn’t going to come tonight, we had a plan!” Penelope exclaims in frustration, looking around the table. 

Gideon merely shrugs, his amused half-smile finally emerging. 

“Plan took too long. Took it into my own hands.”

Morgan has to hold Penelope back from lunging at him.

[forhappysake]

"Because I love you."

A/N - Guys I'm really into these sappy pieces recently. Pls feel free to send requests for something else if inspired. Also, I might be doing a pt.3 to Teach Me at some point, I just have to pick where the story is going.

Summary - A showdown with an unsub leaves you in the hospital. Spencer can't help but feel guilty. Could almost losing you push him to confess his love? (spoilers: yes it does)

Warnings - spencer x reader, BAU level violence, some angst on Spencer's part, fluff, and a love confession

You stared down at your hands, battered and bloodied from your futile attempts to fight back. Caught off guard during an interview with a man who was only supposed to be an eye witness,  not the unsub himself, forced you to fight for your life. By the time the neighbors heard the scuffle and called the local police to come to your rescue, you figured you looked like you’d been through seven rounds of an MMA fight. Your head ached, your eye was swollen shut, and you nearly cried in agony with every breath as you were certain you’d broken a rib. 

After a tense standoff with the local police, the unsub was in custody, leaving you on the floor with your many wounds. You managed to stand yourself up and walk out the door to the waiting ambulance, only to collapse into the EMT’s arms. You felt yourself being loaded in the back of the vehicle as they started an IV. As consciousness drifted away from you, you couldn’t help but wonder where your team was. 

***

You awoke in the hospital to the steady sound of your heart monitor beeping and muffled conversation from outside your room. Your bloodied clothes had been traded in for a hospital gown at some point, and your midsection was bound tightly with some sort of bandages, you assumed to keep your rib in place. You managed to open your good eye in an attempt to find the source of those muffled voices. Your eyes landed on Emily and JJ speaking in the corner of the room, voices hushed. 

“He can’t blame himself. None of us saw this coming,” Emily said, her voice stern but laced with concern. 

JJ shook her head. “He feels terrible, Emily. I’ve seen him come in and out of here crying three times in the last two hours. He rarely cries.” 

Who could they be talking about?

Emily looked at the floor in silence, trying to formulate a reply. JJ cleared her voice to speak again. “They’re partners, Emily,” JJ said, “Of course he’s going to blame himself.” 

Spencer. 

Deciding you’d had enough of eavesdropping, you did your best to sit up, only to let out a whimper when a sharp pain pierced your side. JJ and Emily turned to face you, surprised looks on both their faces. 

“Hey, just lay back,” JJ encouraged. She rushed to the bedside, placing a soothing hand on your arm.

“How long have I been asleep?” you asked. 

Emily shook her head, “Only twelve hours, which isn’t very much considering what you’ve been through. I’ll tell the doctors you need another IV and some pain medication.”

As she turned for the door, you shook your head, “Emily, wait.”

Emily turned to face you, coming to stand at the foot of your bed. “What is it?”

“Where’s Spencer?” you asked. Emily looked to JJ, the two of them sharing a knowing glance. You and Spencer had always been close, as partners and friends. 

“He’s been going back and forth between pacing the parking lot and the lobby for hours. I can’t imagine how many steps he’s taken,” Emily joked. “I’ll go get him for you.” With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and JJ to catch up on what you’d missed in the last few hours. 

JJ explained what happened after you’d passed out: how the unsub was in custody, finding another victim in his basement, and the team realizing that they’d sent you out to interview the lunatic on your own. “We just thought he was going to give you some information about the case. We had no reason to think that he was the one who-”

You shook your head, holding up a hand to stop her. “I didn’t think so either. It’s why I agreed to go alone. Nobody’s at fault.” 

JJ nodded, a solemn look on her face. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. We were all so worried once we connected the dots. I was telling Emily - I haven’t seen Spencer so stressed in years.” 

As if on cue, both you and JJ turned to the sound of rushed footsteps coming down the hallway. Spencer’s tall frame was running (no, sprinting) down the hospital corridor. You felt a small smile tug at the corner of your lips as he burst into the room, hair danging in front of his eyes and clearly out of breath. 

He approached your bedside, leaning down so he could be face-to-face with you. You could only see him with one good eye, but you did your best to smile to show him that you were doing alright. You brought a hand to his face, pushing the fallen strands of hair out of his eyes so you could see him more clearly. “Hello to you too,” you joked. 

“Y/N-” Spencer started, the tears quickly gathering in his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve gone with you. I should have known that-” 

“That the guy who called into the tipline was actually the unsub? Spencer, be logical. None of us knew. I was just telling JJ, nobody is at fault.”

A single tear fell down his cheek as he examined your injuries. With each scratch and bruise he found, he felt another crack forming in his heart. He hadn’t protected you. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was your partner. Your best friend. He loved you, that he knew. He’d forced that love to be as platonic as he could make it, trying to avoid ruining your perfect friendship. It was moments like this that made that more difficult than ever, as he tried to reckon with his love and his guilt. 

Your bruised hand was still cradling his face. He could feel the bandages against his stubble, and he cursed himself again. It was only then that the other presence in the room became known to him. JJ stood on the other side of the bed, another knowing smile gently painting her lips. Spencer knew what he had to do. JJ knew what Spencer had to do. He looked at her, his eyes subtly asking her to leave the two of you alone. JJ took the hint with a small nod, leaving the room without another word as you and Spencer continued to examine each other. 

“So, JJ’s filled me in on what I missed,” I said, breaking the silence. “Sounds like a pretty exciting half day,” I joked. 

Spencer shook his head, pulling away from your hand. He didn’t go far, though, intertwining his own with yours as he leaned back from the bed. “I was worried sick,” he said. 

“I can tell, Spence,” you said, trying to prop yourself up with your pillow. “You really shouldn’t have been. You know I always come out of these things relatively unscathed.” He raised an eyebrow at your statement, taking in your swollen and bruised features. “Well… maybe not unscathed. Alive, at least,” you quipped. 

An eerie silence fell over the room. You could feel the tension increase as the gears turned in his head.

“But what if you don’t someday?” he whispered, his voice far away. You looked over at him, his eyes fixed on your heart monitor and the gentle green lines rising and falling accompanied by the signature beep-beep-beeping. 

You squeezed his hand in an attempt to bring him back down to Earth. “I’ll always come back, Spencer. It’s what you and I do. We come back alive for each other.” 

The tears that had pooled in his eyes earlier spilled over his cheeks as he let out a small whimper. He leaned down, gently wrapping his arms around you as he wept. “Hey, it’s okay Spencer,” you tried to calm him. 

“No, it’s not. It-it’s not because,” he trailed off. You could still feel his shoulders shaking as he cried. 

“Why, Spencer?” you asked once more. “Please, you can tell me anything.” 

Suddenly his sobs slowed. He pulled back from your embrace, taking in your features. Bruised and battered as you were, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He felt like his heart was going to explode. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, the words came tumbling out. “Because I love you,” he said simply. 

Your jaw dropped open at his words. While you should’ve seen this coming, nothing could prepare you for the way your heart jumped. If it wasn’t evident from the expression on your face, the heart monitor picked up its beeping, nearly doubling its pace. The sound wasn’t lost on Spencer, who frantically looked at the screen.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, quickly walking to the monitor. “Did I upset you? I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve just felt this way for so long and if I keep pretending like I don’t-”

“Spencer,” you cut him off, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in minutes. “I love you too.” 

The look on his face was priceless, and you wished you could have taken a picture, but you did your best to engrave it on your brain forever. His brown, teary eyes brightened in a moment, a glimmer of hope shining from within. “You do?” he asked. 

You laughed, allowing your head to fall back on the pillow behind you. “Spencer, I volunteer to work with you during nearly every case. We split a room every week. I only wished that you’d said this sooner so we could’ve split the bed, too.”

He stared at you in shock. The tears in his eyes long forgotten as a smile crept on his face.

A soft laugh left his mouth as he leaned down to you once more, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, careful to avoid any injured area. “Well, I promise that next time we can,” he said. “And,” he started once more, “I’m never letting you go anywhere by yourself again.”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers over his own. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[sheisnotalone]

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮

Pairing: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau x Reader (no pronouns used)

Warnings: none, this is just fluff

Word count: 937

Summary: Reader gets home from a work trip. Their girlfriend JJ missed them a lot and has to take care of them with food and cuddles

~ also posted on ao3 ~

A/N: Hello people, i know i have been MIA for the past two years and i'm sorry about that, tho i'm not really gonna be that active just thought since i maybe am getting into writing again, perchance, I'll also leave this here and not only on ao3

borders made by @enchanthings

“I missed you”, she whispers while grabbing you at your waist to spin you around. 

“Hi Jayie, missed you too”, you reply with a tired smile, taking a step back to stabilize your stance.

“Nu-uh, don’t you go away again” JJ says, hooking her fingers in the belt loops on your jeans and pulling you back into her. She presses her forehead against yours and wraps her arms around your hips. You close your eyes, enjoying being so close to her. It’s true, you missed her too, a lot. Even though you were gone for barely over a week, it feels like ages ago that you had been in her arms.

“You can never leave again, you were gone for way too long”, she mumbles. When you open your eyes again you can see her pouting. It’s just so adorable you can’t help but smile at her. 

“Hey don’t laugh at me, I’m seriou-” but you kiss her before she can finish the sentence. She instantly starts kissing you back softly, moving on hand from your hips into your hair while your own hands start sliding down into the back pockets of her jeans.

Both of you know it will happen again, that one of you will have to leave again. It’s just what you get for both having a job that you often have to travel for. You love your job and you know that she loves hers as well, but being apart multiple weeks a month just really sucks.

When you both pull back to breathe she smiles at you, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired”, you reply, burying your head in the crook of her neck. You inhale the scent of her body mixed with her perfume and it just feels like home. 

“When is the last time you have eaten, baby?” she asks, giving you a scolding look when you mumble “breakfast” into her skin. “I’m sorry… it’s just after finishing up I just rushed to the train to get back home as fast as possible, there was no time for lunch and I also didn’t want to buy an overpriced chocolate bar or something on the train” you answer truthfully. You were so excited to finally return home, you hadn’t really noticed your empty stomach until now. Right on cue it starts grumbling causing the blonde in your arms to giggle. “Okay sweets, hear me out. I make us some dinner but we eat on the couch all cozy and you can tell me about your trip if you want”, she suggests and you nod against her neck. She tries to pull out of your hold to lead you to the kitchen, but you fasten your grip not letting her go. It startles her for a second before she realizes what you want. “So lazy”, she mumbles before positioning her hands to pull you off the ground. You wrap your legs around her waist, to stabilize yourself, still amazed by the ease with which she can just pick you up even though you have been picked up by her strong arms more often than you can count.

She sits you down on the kitchen counter after effortlessly carrying you through your shared apartment. “So, what does my love want for dinner?”, she questions, already knowing what answer to expect when she sees the expression on your face. “Surprise me” you say, beaming up at her.

“You don’t have a preference, huh? Alright then, but I’ll not tell you what i’m gonna make” 

And with that she starts digging through the fridge, putting random things on the counter, cutting up vegetables and rummaging through the cabinets searching for whatever supplies she needs. 

If you would pay closer attention to what she’s grabbing you could possibly pinpoint on what meal she decided on, but your eyes are switching between the concentrated look on her face and the way her body moves around effortlessly while she prepares the food.

After some time - you couldn’t have estimated it even if you tried to - she turns around to you and happily exclaims „All done!“

She has already prepared to plates and set them on the coffee table in the living, so all she has to do now is pulling you off the counter you has been sitting on, leading you to the living room and cross her legs with yours after putting your plate in your hand and making sure you are settled comfortably on the sofa.

JJ loves just being able to touch you at any time. You know she craves physical touch as much as you do, so it’s no surprise that as soon as you both have finished eating you’re curled up in her lap the fingers of one of your hands interlaced with hers, while her other hand is playing with your hair. You feel the tiredness that this stressful day left behind creeping up again and if you closed yourself eyes you would probably just fall asleep in seconds, but you don’t want this evening to end. The upcoming days will be stressful enough so you might as well spend as much time as possible right here with your person where you can ignore all the stress and struggles. You move around a bit until you can look in JJ‘s face, giving her a tired but content smile. 

„Everything okay?“ she asks you, moving a loose strand of hair out of your face.

„More than okay!“ you whisper.

„Welcome home baby, welcome home!“ she whispers back to you and when you close your eyes you instantly drift off into a well deserved nap.

[softestqueeen]

incredibly adorable

request: and if it’s not a bother I’d like to see prompt 5. “Please, look at me. Breathe, god please, breathe” with JJ saying the line after reader gets severely injured during a case. A happy little fluffy ending where reader is doped up on meds in the hospital and starts telling JJ that’s she’s really pretty and being an absolute flirt a/n: hey anon, thank you sm for requesting this! i've decided to write both fics, you can find the other request here! i hope you like it! enjoy <3 warnings: angsty, reader gets shot, fluff, reader is high on pain meds pairing: jennifer "jj" jareau x reader I 1222 words special prompts I special masterlist

This should have been just a regular take down. It was a bit risky, the unsub had barricaded himself into an old warehouse witha currently missing woman, but nothing the BAU hasn't done before.

Well, it should have been.

It all went smooth, you and Derek went in through the back, Hotch and JJ thrugh the front and the rest of the team either covered or went to a side entrance.

The moment you stepped into that warehouse you had a weird feeling. It seemed to be not just completely empty, but also completely clean. The walls were white, the floors were smooth and there wasn't any trash laying around like you'd expect it in an empty warehouse.

You and Derek started to check out every room, never splitting up in the never ending maze of the warehouse. Thankfully, it didn't have too many stories, the three floors being managable to cover for you and your team.

The further you went in, the more you felt that weird pit in your stomach. The two of you went up the stairs, telling the others over your ear piece that your part of the first floor had been clear.

Where the first floor was an endless maze of rooms and corridors, the second floor was completely empty.

No walls, no rooms, no corridors, only a chair with the unsub and his next victim tied to it.

Derek immediately demanded the unsub to drop his weapon, the gun that he was holding against the victim visibly glistening in the cold light from the lamp obove them.

The unsub didn't seem to back down though, the evil sparkle in his eye now falling onto you.

The way his eyes raked over your body, halting at the curve of your hip and the swell of your breasts made the hairs on your body stand up uncomfortably.

Derek and you took another step towards the two, the unsub pressing the gun harder into her temple.

It all happened in a flash, suddenly the gun wasn't pointed at the victim anymore but at you.

The sound of the shot still rang in your ears when you fell down to the floor. There was immediately another shot, probably Derek shooting the unsub, though you couldn't pin-point anything at the moment.

You could hear shouting around you, though your mind was too hazy to think clear. After a moment you could feel a hand on your shoulder slightly shaking you, a hand on your cheek mirroring the movement shortly after.

Even though you could hear what the person was saying to you, it all felt like it was so far away. In a moment of clarity, your eyes opened and you saw your girlfriend, Jennifer Jareau, leaning over you, pressing against your shoulder.

When JJ and Hotch entered the room and she saw you getting shot, she thought that she died in that moment. Her heart dropped, her mouth went dry and she could feel her knees buckle.

She caught herself though, immediately running to you once Derek had taken down the unsub. If it had taken a moment longer it would have been her who shot that son of a bitch.

Once she reached you, all she saw was blood. It wsa everywhere, in your hair, on your face and covering your vest and clothes. She leaned down and pressed her hands over the wound on your shoulder. Tears were in your eyes when she tried to shake you awake.

She wouldn't know what to do if you died now, her whole world now in your hands.

Suddenly your eyes open, just a little bit, and a groan left your lips.

JJ called your name, trying to get your attention.

"Please look at me. Breathe, god please, breathe."

Your head rolled to the side and finally JJ could hear the paramedics arriving at the scene. Derek had to gently take her by the shoulder, pulling her away from you, so the paramedics could get to you.

The blonde didn't leave you ot of her sight for even one second, insisting on riding in the ambulance with you.

She tried to get information out of the emt's, but they didn't know if you would make it either.

They wheeled you into the operation room and JJ could do nothing but wait if you would ever wake up again.

~~~~

The first thing you notic after waking up, was that you were, in fact, not dead. The second thing was your girlfriend - who was currently sporting a very worried expression - looking at her phone, sitting by your bedside. A frown was evident on her face, her eyebrows drawn together and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

You had to admit that she looked incredibly adorable. Oh? Did you say that out loud?

Suddenly her attention went to you, the worried expression on her face not faltering for a second.

"Baby, are you alright? Can you hear me?" The dazed expression and loopsided smile on your face did nothing to calm JJ's nerves. She looked at you expectedly, waiting for an answer.

"You look so pretty right now, JJ," was all you said before continuing to smile at her again.

"Well, thank you. But I wanted to know if you are in any pain or need anything." JJ still tried to get at least some kind of real answer out of you, but you were still pretty out of it. It made sense after what happened that they gave you some pretty intense pain killers. If she was being honest with herself, JJ was just releived that you didn't seem to be in too much pain at the moment.

The blonde leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your gaze followed the movement, tears gathering in your eyes with all the love you were feeling for your girlfriend at that simple gesture.

Seeing the tears in your eyes, JJ panicked. "Oh no, why are you crying? Are you hurting? Do you want me to call a nurse?" JJ was rattling off questions while the tears slowly started to make their way down your cheeks. Her hands immediately went to cup them, her thumbs gently wiping away your tears.

"Baby, please talk to me. What's wrong?" JJ was close to calling the nurse when she heard your quiet voice. Almost sheepishly you admit.

"I just love you so much JJ. Thank you for taking care of me and just... being there for me i guess. I really appreciate that."

At that JJ almost broke out in tears herself. Just 12 hours before you were shot, almost dying and now you were so out of it that the only thing on your mind was babbling about how much you loved her and how thankful you were for her.

"I love you too, baby. How about you get some more sleep, huh?" Your girlfriend suggested, slowly stroking your hair in an effort to get you to sleep.

"M'kay, but only if you lay down with me." You were already scooting over and holding up the blanket so she could slide in next to you, all while making the biggest puppy dog eyes at her.

She couldn't help but comply, having grown way too soft since you first started dating.

"Of course baby, anything."

the requests for this event are OPEN! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with criminal minds characters, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open!

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa

[marvelbxtch]

casual- jennifer jareau

tw: fingering (reader and jj receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), angsty at the beginning, make-up sex, light cheating, fluff, aftercare, l-word

description: you've been sleeping with jj for a few months and it's become more than just a friends-with-benefits situation- or so you think.

A/N: this is set in season seven, jj and will got a divorce while she was at the pentagon

----

Penelope cleared her throat loudly as she entered your office through the open door.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was serious.

You released your lip from between your teeth. "Yeah, I'm okay. Why?"

Penelope tilted her head slightly, a small sigh escaping. "Sweetest, I can tell that something is wrong. You've been quiet and distant. You and Jayje have been so... not normal."

You gripped your pen, knuckles whitening with the force. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is normal." Your eyes trailed out the office window, landing on JJ as she talked to Emily and Spencer.

Emily chuckled lightly, leaning back to rest her hands on JJ's desk. "So, that's about all that has happened in my love life. Are you seeing anyone?"

JJ looked up, a light blush painting her cheeks pink. The image of you in her bed flashed in her mind. "Only casually." The words felt awkward coming off of her tongue.

Ever since her divorce, she'd known that you had been a driving force behind that decision.

The feelings she had for you, and that kiss that you shared on her last day before she left for the Pentagon. She also knew that her feelings for you went past just sexual, but accepting the fact that she had, in fact, been unfaithful was difficult.

Will hadn't been a saint either, as she'd discovered with her weekends off. The pharmacy tech with dark brown hair who'd she'd found a picture of on his phone, confirmed that. She was a nice girl, and she had no idea he was a married father.

Casual made the feelings she had for you seem quieter, and helped her to ignore the fact that her walls had begun to come down for you.

"Oh, I see. I'm glad you're getting some good di-" Penelope closed her mouth when the glare JJ shot her met her eyes. You and Penelope had entered quietly a moment earlier.

"Casual, huh? Didn't know that was your style." Morgan smirked, crossing his hands over his chest.

Your eyebrows raised in an uncontrollable reflex. "Bullshit." You whispered- or at least that was how it was supposed to come out. Emily looked over at you, her eyes wide.

"Wait- oh, shit." Derek looked between you two, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

You grabbed your coat from the hanger next to a stunned Hotch. He looked over at you, a mixture of confusion and pity on his face. You slammed the door behind you, making a beeline toward your car.

The engine rumbled to life as you twisted the key in the ignition with unnecessary force. The radio turned on with the engine, playing some stupid upbeat pop bullshit. You shoved the dial so hard you worried briefly you'd broken it, the silence leaving you with just the sound of your bounding pulse and angered breath.

The drive home seemed longer than usual. Traffic was bad. It pissed you off more than usual. The drive to your home was always a pain- it was what you deserved for choosing to live in the city. You opened the squeaky door as quickly as possible, stepping into the apartment and flicking on the light.

The coat slipped from your shoulders onto the arm of the nearby couch as you walked toward the kitchen. You opened the fridge, pulling a beer from the door. You took a long swig, wincing at the taste. You hadn't even noticed that you'd bought a shitty beer for college students- you'd been too upset to care.

"What a fucking day." You snorted, the absurdity of it all not lost on you.

You settled down on the old worn couch, closing your eyes and focusing on the cold glass in your hand.

You stayed like that for a while, until you heard a knock on your door. You jolted up, beer sloshing dangerously. You sat the bottle down, hand on the hilt of your gun. You slowly creeped towards the door, opening it just enough to see the blonde hair you knew all too well.

"Fucking hell. What are you doing knocking on my door at midnight?" You let your grip on your weapon loosen, hand dropping to your side and you stepped onto the front porch.

"I was worried about you." JJ tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Sure. Why would you be? We're not serious." You scoffed, leaning against your front door.

"Don't be like that." JJ sighed softly. "You know that isn't really how I feel."

"Isn't it, though? You keep me at arm's length, you always have. Whatever the hell this is," you gesture, "has never been a relationship. You like that I make you feel something. You like that I fuck you better than he ever did. There is nothing more that you feel- you don't feel it like I do." Your voice drips with hurt.

You hear her breath become uneven. "Can we talk about this inside?"

You snort. "You don't want my neighbors to hear how I fucked FBI superstar, ex-wife-" Her hand finds its way to your mouth.

You freeze, pulling away slowly. You turn away, opening the door and stepping inside without looking back. You hear her shut the door behind you.

"I do feel it. I feel it every fucking day and it scares me. It scares me because I felt it when I was married. To a man. You don't understand how terrifying it is to be lying next to the father of your child and thinking of someone else. You don't understand how confusing it is to fall in love with a woman for the first time when you've committed to forever with a man. I didn't know how to do this, how to be with you. I never meant to make you think that this was ever just sex." Her voice cracked as she finished.

You looked up and scanned her face. You were nothing if you weren't a good profiler, and she was telling the truth. You felt tears begin to prick your eyes. "Goddammit, Jayje."

The feeling of her hands on your cheeks brought you out of your head. "I love you. All of you. Every version. Nothing would make me prouder than you calling me yours." She whispered against your lips.

"I love you, too. So fucking much." You breathed, leaning forward and pressing your lips to hers.

The salty tears combined with the sweet vanilla of her lip balm as your tongue slipped into her mouth. JJ bit gently on your bottom lip, pulling away slowly and releasing with a pop. You pressed your forehead to hers, just breathing.

"You're so beautiful." Her voice was raspy with want. She leaned forward, lips moving across your jaw toward your ear. She nipped gently at the sensitive skin at the transition between your jaw and neck.

"Jay..." You moaned softly as her hands slipped underneath the back of your shirt, nails gently scratching.

"Let me do this tonight, okay?" She moved away from your neck, locking eyes with you. "It's the least I can do."

"Okay," You conceded easily to her gaze.

"Bed?" She whispered. You nodded quickly, swallowing hard as her hands moved up to your shoulder blades. Her lips found yours again, and she began walking you backward toward your bedroom.

JJ pulled back to lift your turtleneck gently from your body. Her kisses were soft this time, like she was savoring you. All the times you'd slept together before, it was aggressive, fueled by want. This time, it was fueled by her love. Her hands slipped to your waist, resting gently on the weight deposited there. "God, you're so perfect."

You blushed and looked away. She made your insecurities seem futile with the way she raked her eyes down your body.

JJ returned her hands to your back, fingers deftly unclipping the lacy bra that covered your chest. You gasped as the cold air hit your nipples, hardening them instantly. She threw the bra onto the ground, leaning down to press soft kisses to your breasts. Her skilled fingers moved to play with your nipples as her mouth made its way down.

She moved her hand to allow her lips access to your stiff peaks, kissing them as she'd done so many times before. You felt a familiar heat growing deep in your lower abdomen as sparks of pleasure shot down to your core.

"Fuck, baby." You gaped as she moved to your other nipple. JJ hummed in response, tickling the sensitive flesh delightfully.

Her lips trailed down from your breasts, leaving kisses down your stomach as they went. You leaned back onto the soft duvet as she reached your navel. You reached your hand down before hers could begin to unzip your black dress pants.

"I want to see you." You sat yourself up on your elbows as you spoke, waiting for her response.

"Very well." JJ grinned, throwing her grey sweater to the floor, revealing her dark green bra and creamy skin. "Can I continue?" She rasped, amusement thick in her voice.

"Oh, please do." You laughed while she returned to her knees. She wrapped her hands around your ankles, pushing you softly back onto the mattress.

She flipped her hair out of her line of sight, leaning forward to move her fingers back to your zipper. She took them off slowly, reveling at every inch of skin she exposed. Her patience grew thin at the sight of your wet panties- this was all for her? How lucky was she?

"Can I take these off, princess?" She asked, tilting her head upward to watch your answer.

"Yes, fuck, yes."

JJ looped her fingers in the sides of your panties, pulling the fabric slowly, achingly, down your legs. A wave of cold air hit your bare core, sending a shiver up your body and a rush of wetness to your center.

"It gets prettier every time I see it." JJ grinned, fingers gently tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs. "Is this okay?" She whispered, kissing the soft flesh.

"Yes," you sighed softly. "I can't wait much longer, Jay. I need you." The words came out in a low whisper.

"Fuck. You're so sexy when you're needy." JJ finally leaned forward, inching toward where you needed her the most.

Her lips found your pussy, and she began eating like she'd been starved. Her tongue licked a stripe up your slit, relishing in the musky taste of your lust. You moaned loudly, knuckles white with the force you were exerting, gripping the sheets. Her tongue entered you, nose bumping delishily against your clit.

"Fuck, JJ, just like that, baby." You reached down, hand twisting in the blonde strands of your lover.

JJ traced a hand up your thigh, fingers sliding toward your core. She paused her meal momentarily, looking up, "Are you ready?"

You nodded. JJ gently pushed her middle finger into your heat, letting you adjust before beginning to thrust. Her mouth came back to your pussy, lips wrapping around your swollen clit.

You couldn't contain your moans, curses, and broken versions of JJ's name from falling from your open mouth.

"I'm so close," You gasped as JJ scraped her teeth against your clit. "Come here." You pulled gently on her hair.

JJ kept her finger in your pussy, moving to rest her torso against yours.

"You want to touch me, huh?" She said, bending down to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

"Please." You breathed, pulling away. JJ nodded, her free hand grabbing yours and leaving it to rest on her covered core.

Your fingers slipped under the green lace and into JJ's wet pussy. JJ's reaction caused her to begin thrusting harder into you, another finger joining in.

Wet sounds echoed off the walls of the room as you rocked against each other, each chasing the orgasm on the horizon.

"I'm almost there, don't stop." JJ gasped, lips attaching to your nipple.

"Me too." You moaned at the contact. "Cum with me, baby."

It didn't take much more before you both fell off the edge, cumming hard.

You pulled gently out of JJ. However, JJ was not finished with you yet.

"One more, please. I need to see you fall apart." She whispered against your neck.

"You're insatiable." You laughed.

JJ giggled too-then began ruthlessly pounding into your weeping cunt.

You gripped her back, nails digging into the soft flesh. It was only a few more thrusts before you reached your second orgasm, a flood of arousal soaking the bed underneath your intertwined bodies.

JJ removed her digits from your core, resting them on your lower stomach.

"God, I love you." You smiled dreamily.

"That was amazing. Remind me to make you angry more often." JJ chuckled as you poked her head playfully.

JJ sat up, fingers still stroking your spasming abdomen. "I'm gonna run us a bath, sound okay, princess?" She asked, blonde locks falling to frame her face.

"Perfect." You leaned up to kiss her before watching her walk into the bathroom.

You could watch that for the rest of your life.