#no this was not something I knew about Morgan before this past week

[luveline]

Hey lovely !! <3 could we see Spencer’s bombshell! Reader going into labour at the BAU but trying to downplay it like Pam did on the office !! (So sorry if you’ve already done a request like this) <333 have a lovely day ☺️

thank you <3 pregnant!reader, 1.3k

“Spencer?” 

Spencer groans into his pillow. 

Your hand slips onto his stomach. “Spencer, can you wake up?” 

“No,” he mumbles, lifting his head off of one of the many pillows of your bed. He thought his bed at his apartment was comfortable, but Spencer has never slept so well as he does in your new bed, in your new home, with you warming the sheets beside him. What a miracle to live with you, the rush to get everything done before your due date complete. 

You make a strange noise, hard to see in the dark as he opens his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You struggle into a sitting position. Angel, he thinks sympathetically, you’re fit to burst, your baby bump as big as it’s going to get and awfully heavy. He sits up with you, putting his hand behind your back. “Baby?” he prompts. 

“I think,” —you sound meek, not yourself, each word said reluctantly— “that I’m having real contractions.” 

Spencer’s head isn’t working. He takes a few seconds to hear you, and then another few to realise what you’ve said. “Are you sure?” 

“They’re really painful.” 

Braxton Hicks (which you’ve had, and not enjoyed) aren’t usually really painful. They’re also irregular. “How many have you had? Has it been long?” he asks. 

“Maybe five. They’re like…” You take his hand. “They’re like, they go on for ages. I’ve never felt anything like it.” 

“So you’re in labour,” he says, grasping your hand back. “Definitely. Let me get my watch, I need to time your contractions. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not in labour. I’m going in to labour.”  

“It’s the same thing,” he says. He has boxes and boxes of mental knowledge explaining the difference, but he’s too excited to catch your strange tone. “I’ll be right back.” 

He races from the bed to the bathroom where he’d left his watch. You should be having contractions far apart at this point, around fifteen to twenty minute gaps, but it could be much further or far sooner, and Spencer doesn’t know when you had your last. He needs to time them properly so he knows when to take you to the hospital. 

“Good thing we packed your bag yesterday morning, huh?” he asks, sliding back into bed with a huge smile on his face. “And you showered last night, you’re ready to go. I have all our things in the trunk, but Morgan’s gonna have to come and do the car seat, I forgot all about it.” 

You shake your head again. 

He worries it’s from pain. “Is it starting?” 

“No, no, I’m not having any. I think it’s just cramps, actually.” 

“What?” He puts his hand on your bump. “That’s what they feel like, honey, it’s cramps, it’s your cervix contracting, it feels just like a cramp.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Spencer cups your cheek, his fingertips sliding softly to the corner of your eye, his thumb by your nose. You look younger without any makeup on, younger still with your creeping frown. “Hey,” he says, his voice half breath, hoping you’ll look him in the eye, “hey, what’s going on?” 

Your eyebrows start to pinch down. “It’s not labour.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I’m not having her.” 

“She had to come out some time,” he says, attempting to be funny and lighten the mood. 

“I really think it’s fine. I’m just having those Braxton Hicks again, it’s too far from my due date–”

“Angel, it’s a week away. We knew it could happen now.” He strokes your cheek again. “We don’t have to go yet. Let me time a couple of your contractions and see what we’re working with.” 

“It’s not…” You duck your head. The catch of pain gets you, and Spencer checks his watch. Four minutes past four in the morning, the longest hand at five seconds. Then he looks for your hand again to hold in his, his own panic backseated by your denial. “They’re not that bad,” you say stiffly. 

“That’s good, honey, but they’re going to get worse. Remember what we said, huh? The pain will get really bad, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. We have a plan.” 

“It’s not real.” 

“Baby,” he says, tugging your hand imploringly to his chest, his voice having descended to a place it so rarely goes, “what are you scared of?” 

“That I can’t do it,” you say. 

“Is your contraction over?” he asks, noticing the laxening of your fingers. 

“Yeah.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. 

“Is there anything in the entire world that you can’t do?” 

You sniff. 

“Seriously. I can’t name a single thing you can’t do. This isn’t different. It’s going to be scary and painful, and it’s not something I want for you, not really, but you’re about to have a baby.” He rubs your thumb, ducking his head in the hopes that the movement will make you raise your own. “Our baby. We’ve waited such a long time.” 

“Nine months.” 

“Thirty nine weeks and two days. That's two hundred and seventy five days waiting. This is a good thing,” he says, meeting your eyes the moment you raise your head. “The waiting is over. This is the fun part.”

“‘Cos our girl is coming,” you say. 

He grins. “Exactly! I know you’re scared, but thinking you can’t do it? Of course you can. And I’m gonna be with you the whole time.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course I do.” 

You wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands. Spencer lets his palm fall onto your thigh. It really is going to hurt. It’s gonna be pain like you’ve never felt before, and he’s terrified of everything that could go wrong, but what’s important now is making sure you know you’re going to be alright. 

“You’re going to be a beautiful mom,” he says, rubbing your thigh, softer from time spent resting. “I’m so excited I can’t describe it. This time, the day after tomorrow, we could be here with her. We’ll be putting her down to sleep in the nursery in her newborn onesie we picked out, the–”

“Little rabbits,” you say, the hint of a smile on your lips. 

“I can’t wait to see her face.” 

“Her little fingers.” 

“Her nose, her eyes–”

“You said babies have their moms hands.” 

He smiles. “I have my mom’s. Can you imagine? And we get to find out today.” 

You let him touch your stomach. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You always do.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

“Sweetheart, let me be the scared one.” 

“You’re not gonna dilate ten centimetres!” 

“You’ve probably already done one,” he says. “Just nine more to go.” 

His joke doesn’t land. To his horror, you end up sniffling and locked up with panic. He rubs your back in long sweeps, feeling younger than ever kneeling in bed at your side, minutes droning on. He’s pulling your head into his neck thinking he’s completely out of your depth when you say, “It’s starting again, Spence.” 

He checks his watch. “That’s eleven minutes.” 

Your contractions will get worse soon, and closer together. You probably don’t have long until it starts, and labour might go on for hours. To do this, you're going to have to believe That you can. 

Spencer takes your face into his hands and looks you right in the eyes. “You can do this. I know you can.” He pecks you gently. “Angel, if anyone in the world can do this, it’s you.” 

You take a deep breath. He watches your nerves turn to determination, turn to love. “I know.” 

“Is there anything you need me to do before we start getting ready to leave?” 

You give a soft smile. “Kiss for luck?” 

He’s gonna need it. 

[ace-malarky]

largely I am getting derailed from this present with the knowledge that she is uh

she's not gonna approve of some of the choices I am making

unfortunately Morgan was my character first and I can say he's a monsterfucker and she just has to deal with that

[pedroscowgirl]

Our little secret

aaron hotchner x afab!reader

fluff/ bit angsty ?

don't read if you're uncomfy with pregnancies or if you don't like them!

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, throwing up, anxiety , secret relationship

summary: You and Aaron Hotchner are secretly dating while working a BAU case when you start feeling sick, blaming it on food poisoning. The truth, however, is that you're pregnant, a fact you’ve been hiding from the team and Hotch

wc: 2k

A/n: this is a short one srry

The day started like any other—early, cold, and demanding. You and the rest of the BAU team were called to the scene of a particularly brutal murder. The sight was horrific, even by your standards. As the team gathered around the body, discussing the unsub's potential profile, you felt a wave of nausea rise in your throat.

You've seen worse. You’ve been to enough crime scenes that the blood and gore should be something you’re used to by now. But this time, it felt different. You tried to focus on Hotch’s voice as he calmly led the discussion, but the queasy feeling in your stomach was only getting worse. Your vision blurred slightly, and you knew that if you didn’t leave now, you were going to embarrass yourself in front of everyone.

You quickly excused yourself, turning on your heel and walking away from the scene as fast as you could without drawing more attention. As soon as you were out of sight, you broke into a run, reaching the nearest alley and doubling over to vomit. The sickness was sudden, but the relief was almost instant. You leaned against the wall, catching your breath and trying to steady your heart.

“Hey,” a voice startled you. You looked up to see Emily standing a few feet away, concern etched across her face. “Everything okay?” she asked, her eyes scanning your face for answers.

You wiped the back of your hand across your mouth, embarrassed to have been caught. “Uh, yeah. I think I got food poisoning or something,” you said, trying to shrug it off.

Emily didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she nodded slowly. “Alright. Let’s head back.”

Together, you returned to the crime scene, hoping no one else would notice your sudden absence. But of course, as soon as you rejoined the group, Morgan was quick to ask. “You good?”

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and for a split second, your gaze flicked to his before you answered. “Yeah, just food poisoning,” you repeated, your voice a little too casual. You hoped the explanation would suffice.

But Hotch raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. You’d been spending a lot of time with him lately, especially with the two of you sneaking around during the case. You’d shared several meals together over the past week, and if you were sick from something you ate, wouldn’t he be too? His mind was already working, but thankfully, he didn’t push the issue—not yet.

The nausea didn’t go away after that day. Every morning brought new waves of sickness, and every time you thought you were getting better, it hit again. You were careful to hide it from the team, but you couldn’t hide everything.

It didn’t take long for JJ to notice. She caught you sneaking off to the bathroom more than once, and after everything she went through with her own pregnancy, she didn’t need much to figure it out. She pulled Emily aside during a quieter moment, her voice low as she shared her suspicions.

“I think she’s pregnant,” JJ whispered, glancing over at you as you leaned against the wall, looking pale.

Emily’s eyes widened. “What? Is she even dating anyone?” she asked, surprised. “I mean, not that she has to be dating anyone to be pregnant, but you know…”

JJ shrugged. “I don’t know. But I recognize that look.”

Meanwhile, you were doing everything you could to keep yourself together. During another meeting later that afternoon, the team was deep in discussion about the unsub’s motives and next moves when you felt another wave of nausea. You excused yourself quickly, heading for the bathroom once again to throw up. When you returned, Hotch was waiting for you, his concern clear in the way he looked at you.

“Maybe you should stay in the hotel, rest up,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

The suggestion hit a nerve, though. You were already feeling on edge, not just from the constant sickness, but from the stress of keeping your relationship with him a secret. Add to that the fact that you’d just confirmed your pregnancy with a couple of tests you bought in a small pharmacy that morning, and the last thing you wanted was to feel weak or out of control.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” you replied, your voice more stern than you intended.

His brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t understand why you were suddenly so defensive. The two of you had always been careful about how you spoke to each other in front of the team, but this time, something was different. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, but for now, he let it go.

That evening, back at the hotel, you finally had a moment to yourself. The stress of the case, the secrecy of your relationship with Hotch, and now the realization that you were pregnant had all been weighing heavily on your mind. You paced around your room, trying to figure out how to handle it all. How would you tell Hotch? Would he be angry? Would he even want this?

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Hotch standing there, his expression softer than usual.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You hadn’t expected to see him this evening.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he said simply, stepping into the room when you gestured for him to come in.

“Thanks,” you muttered, unsure of what else to say. You were too tired to keep up the pretense, but you weren’t ready to have the conversation you knew was coming, either.

Hotch looked at you, his concern deepening. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but cautious.

You didn’t have time to answer. The nausea hit you again, and you barely made it to the bathroom before you were throwing up once more. Hotch followed you, kneeling beside you as you sat on the floor, resting your head against the cool tile.

“How is it that you have food poisoning, and Jack and I don’t?” he asked quietly, his hand resting gently on your back.

You let out a soft, bitter laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “You know, Hotchner, for a professional profiler, you really suck at this.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. “What do you mean?” he asked, still confused.

Taking a deep breath, you realized there was no point in hiding it anymore. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m pregnant, Aaron,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was deafening. Hotch just stared at you, his expression unreadable. The longer he stayed quiet, the more your nerves began to fray. You weren’t sure how he would react, and the uncertainty was eating away at you.

“Aaron… please say something,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He blinked again, still processing. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice quiet and full of emotion.

Your heart sank at his hesitation. You had feared this might be too much for him, that maybe he didn’t want this as much as you were starting to. But just as you were about to apologize or say something to ease the tension, you saw the tears well up in his eyes.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Aaron?”

Before you could react, Hotch leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He held you tightly for a moment longer, his hand gently rubbing your back as he tried to process everything. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, feeling a strange sense of calm despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. The silence was comfortable, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just exist in it, soaking in the relief that came from finally telling him.

Aaron pulled back slightly, his hand moving to cup your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, and he gazed at you with a soft, adoring expression you rarely saw from him in public. It made your heart swell, and you could see how much he meant those words.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. You smiled, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

He leaned in, his lips inching closer to yours, but before he could kiss you, you instinctively put your hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. "Aaron…" you began, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I literally just threw up. You really don’t want to kiss me right now."

Aaron blinked in surprise and then chuckled softly, a rare sound that made your heart skip. "I don’t care," he said, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile. He leaned in again, but you kept your hand firm against his chest, shaking your head.

"I care," you insisted, giving him a playful glare. "Trust me, you’ll regret it."

He laughed again, the tension between you easing, and nodded. "Alright, alright," he conceded, his voice warm and full of affection. "I’ll wait. But only because you insist."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little lighter as you sat back, leaning against the bathroom wall. The reality of the situation was still sinking in. You were pregnant. With Aaron’s child. It was overwhelming, but having him by your side made it feel less terrifying.

He sat down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he took your hand in his. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice now more serious. "With all of this?"

You looked down at your intertwined fingers, the weight of the question pressing on you. "I… I’m scared," you admitted quietly. "I don’t know what’s going to happen. With the team, with us…"

Aaron nodded, understanding the unspoken worries. "We’ll figure it out," he said gently. "One step at a time. You don’t have to do this alone."

You squeezed his hand, the reassurance soothing the storm in your mind. "What if the team finds out?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’ve been so careful. But now…"

Aaron sighed, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns on your hand. "We’ll cross that bridge when we get there," he said after a moment. "Right now, you need to focus on taking care of yourself. And… if it comes out, then we’ll deal with it together."

The weight of his words settled over you, and though the fear was still there, it was more manageable with him by your side. You rested your head on his shoulder, the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. "What if I’m not ready?" you asked, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he heard you.

Aaron gently lifted your chin so you were looking into his eyes. "You don’t have to be ready right now," he said softly. "We’ll figure it out as we go. I’m here for you, always."

Your heart swelled at his words, and despite everything—the nausea, the uncertainty, the secrecy, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe things wouldn’t be perfect, and maybe you weren’t fully prepared, but you knew you weren’t doing this alone.

Leaning against him, you closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to relax. He held you close, his presence steady and comforting.

But just as you were starting to drift into a peaceful moment, a knock came at the door.

"Y/N?" It was Emily’s voice, followed by a second knock. "You in there?"

Your eyes shot open, and you and Aaron exchanged a look. Panic quickly replaced the calm.

"I think we’ll need to discuss our cover story soon," you muttered with a smirk, earning a quiet laugh from Aaron as he helped you to your feet.

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added): @looking1016 @pear-1206 @doe-eyed-diva @ssa-aaronhotchner @sweetpinkchampagne @totallyjovialblaze @pastelpinkflowerlife @donttrustlove @actualdeemon @jencole214 @fandomawesomeness @devilslittlehelper @mrs-ssa-hotch

[the-lying-heavens]

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

[temporarywelcome]

Smooth Criminal - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer has been extremely secretive about his girlfriend of the past year, so much so that even Garcia can't find information on her. Till today, and her.... interesting ...past leaves everyone flabbergasted.

Warnings: light swearing

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

Spencer’s had a girlfriend.

In fact, he’s had a girlfriend for almost a year at this point and she has not met his friends even once. He was so secretive with this girlfriend that the rest of the BAU couldn’t get any information about her. Not even a name, leaving Garcia in anguish. 

Everyone was dying to know about this mystery girl that has taken up most of the boy genius’ free time. 

And finally, Garcia cracked the code. 

As the team walked down the halls of work towards the exit, all exhausted and ready to go home, Morgan asked if Spencer had needed a ride.

“It’s pretty late to take a taxi,” Morgan had said. Everyone knows Reid barely drives for whatever reason. He frequently took taxis or carpooled.

Reid just shook his head, “It’s fine, thank you.” 

And that was that.

However, Garcia didn’t remember seeing him flag down a taxi. She didn’t remember seeing him walk off into the night.

And so she found herself in front of her computer typing away, already having a feeling as to how Reid left the office. She could get in trouble for this…

If she got caught.

But she won’t, because she’s Penelope Garcia,the most amazing tech analyst to grace the Earth. 

And there it was. 

She watched the camera footage of the parking garage, following Spencer’s movements of the night before, camera to camera. She followed him, until he stopped next to a car, opening the passenger side and getting in.

Then the car drove off.

Someone drove into the parking lot with the intention of picking up Spencer. And she was pretty sure she knew who. Especially because this didn’t seem like a random occurrence. Going back a few weeks (she really needed a hobby it seemed), she found this car would pick Spencer up quite frequently. 

So she tracked the license plate, finally finding the name of this mystery woman. Y/N L/N. And that’s when Garcia fell down the rabbit hole…

That same day, Morgan stood in front of Spencer’s desk, arms crossed with an annoying smirk on his face. He obviously had something to say. 

“Morgan, I feel you hovering,” Spencer muttered, closing the manila folder on his desk and looking up at his colleague. “What is it?”

“So… what are you doing after work? Wanna get some beers?”

“No thanks, I have plans already.”

“Oh, yeah? With who?” 

“With-” Spencer’s eyes narrowed at Morgan in suspicion, “Why are you asking?”

“Answering a question with a question, huh?” Morgan chuckled, “C’mon, Reid, are you going to be with your little girlfriend?” 

“She’s quite tall actually,” 

“You know what I mean,” he turned to walk away, “Have fun with Y/N, pretty boy,” 

“What the f-” Reid gasped as Morgan stalked off, “How do you know her name?!” 

Morgan ignored his question, Rossi coming at him next to bother him. 

Straight from Garcia’s computer-adorned office. 

“A criminal, Reid?” Rossi exclaimed, slapping a file down onto his desk.

“Garcia told you?!” Spencer groaned, head going into his hands. “I can’t have any privacy?”

“Hey, look at me!” Rossi was completely appalled by the information he had found, “You’re an FBI agent! Dating a criminal!”

“Weren’t you a mobster or are we just going to forget that…?” JJ grumbled from her own desk, averting her gaze when Rossi shot her a look. 

Spencer dropped his hands from his face, “Rossi, look-”

“I bet that’s why you’ve been so secretive,” Dave concluded, “Because you knew Garcia would find out about your felon girlfriend. Look, she even gave me printouts,” He gestured to the file he threw onto Spencer’s desk. 

“She did petty crimes,” Spencer scoffed in defense of his girlfriend. 

“She robbed people for sport. Her mother was wealthy. Her father was a cop.” 

“Daughter of a cop, girlfriend of an FBI agent, and a robber? Interesting,” Prentiss joined the interrogation. 

“Where did you come from…” Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She didn’t do it for sport. She just… well…”

“She’s a diagnosed kleptomaniac,” Rossi opened the file and pulled out a document of proof, “Now how the hell did you manage to date a kleptomaniac?”

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, but Prentiss answered for him, “They knew each other in high school back in Vegas,” she said, looking through the folder for the information Garcia told her. 

“Yes,” Spencer grumbled, “She was a freshman when I was a senior.”

“When you were twelve?” Rossi deadpanned. 

“Yes,” he repeated, “She actually helped me a lot with bullies.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “She stole a lot of their things…” 

“And you find that attractive?” Rossi asked. 

“No, I didn’t find anything attractive when I was twelve,” Spencer shot back, “I only knew her for that one year before I graduated and left. We reconnected last year and-”

“Ah, yes, two years after she had to be bailed out of jail for stealing from a gas station.” said Rossi, “Not even a good crime,”

“What would constitute for a good crime?” Prentiss wondered out loud.

“A bank or something.” Rossi replied, “Anyway-”

“I mean she did rob a bank before-” Spencer paused, then clamped his mouth shut. 

Rossi and Prentiss exchanged glances, before making eye contact with JJ as well, who was now interested in the conversation. 

“She what” it didn’t even sound like a question coming out of Rossi’s mouth. 

Spencer quickly went to his girlfriend’s defense, “Not at gunpoint or anything! She just, uh, worked at the bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Prentiss whistled, “Now this is intriguing,”

“I do not wish to speak about my girlfriend’s crimes anymore,” 

“Well we do,” Rossi grumbled, “So I’m assuming she hasn’t committed any more crimes?”

Spencer’s silence made Dave and Emily’s eyes widen. 

“You’re dating a current criminal-?” Emily began.

“Okay, look,” At this point, Spencer just wanted to leave and see his girlfriend, “Due to suffering from her kleptomania, her desire to steal is uncontrollable. Even when we met, she would constantly steal but return the object without the person knowing. I’ll admit, some of the robberies I’ve been… informed about, seem like they were more for fun, but that’s in the past, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” Emily wasn’t sure she should be convinced. 

“Yeah. Okay, I’m leaving now.” Spencer stood up, eyeing the file in Rossi’s hand, “And can you please get rid of that?”

“Well, can we meet her?” JJ asked from her desk, standing as well, “I didn’t stalk her like everyone else, but I’m still intrigued.”

“Thank you for being normal, JJ,” Spencer sighed, grabbing his bag.

Garcia burst out of her office, a devious look on her face, “Just looked at the cameras… A certain car is here waiting for Reid.” 

Spencer muttered under his breath as he sped off, already hearing footsteps following. He could hear Garcia tell Y/N’s whole life story to the group of Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan who rejoined the group. 

“She’s a dancer in a big theatre a few cities over,” Garcia babbled, “They just finished Swan Lake. She Odette and everything! Oh and…”

Jesus Christ. 

“...and the last thing I found was that she used to run a Girls’ Generation blog,” Garcia finished.

“What’s that?” Morgan asked. 

“Girl group. She really likes Jessica, but she left or got kicked out or something. I learned so much girl group lore today.” 

“I also like Jessica’s sister, Krystal. She’s in a different group though,”

The team all froze, heads snapping comically at the same time to the owner of the voice. Y/N, the kleptomaniac that has somehow stolen Spencer Reid’s heart. She was leaning against her fancy car (Rossi pondered if it were stolen). 

“I had a blog for that group too,” she added, grinning at Garcia. She held out her arms, Reid shyly shuffling into her embrace. “But, well, I’d like to not remember either blog,” she whispered a ‘hey baby’ to Spencer, who mumbled something back, clearly embarrassed. 

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “Y/N, this is my team. Well, most of the team. Hotch isn’t here, thank God,” 

Y/N laughed, “They’ve been bothering you, baby? I’m guessing Penelope was the one who found out about me…” she scanned the small group and gestured towards Garcia, “You,” faced the others, “You’re Derek Morgan… Jennifer J… I’m not gonna lie, I can’t pronounce your last name-” JJ raised a brow. “-Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi.” she pointed out each agent before eyeing Garcia again, “You’re not the only stalker.” 

“Can we go now?” Spencer muttered, face already red, “I’m tired,” 

“Yeah, of course,” Y/N nodded. She looked at the team again, “It seems I’ve become a chauffeur, as this princess does not like to drive.” 

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Spencer grumbled, getting into the passenger seat.

“Oh, he so hates us now,” Morgan chuckled. 

Y/N shook her head, “Nah, he loves you guys. Well, as you all know, I’m Y/N,” She held out a hand to shake, politely shaking each member’s hand. “Should get going before said princess gets cranky,” She turned, heading back to the driver’s seat. “Oh yeah, Dave?” she looked over her shoulder and tossed a pair of keys at Rossi, who caught them.

His keys.

“Sorry,” she got into the car and drove off. 

“Kleptomaniac,” he said in awe, “She’s fast.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Emily agreed, watching the car as it created distance. 

“I don’t know how I feel about her,” JJ muttered, biting her lip, “I mean, is my name really that hard to pronounce?”

“Not at all,” said Garcia, “Spell, maybe,” 

_________________________

Once Y/N got back into the car, she noticed Spencer had turned off the music she had playing. “Um, Jessica was speaking,” she said jokingly.

He glanced at her, “Tell Jessica I apologize,” he said dryly. She was sure his team thought he was such a sweetheart, but damn, he gets cranky. Perhaps he saves that specially for her. 

“I’m guessing they saw my… record?”

“Mhm, Garcia made printouts,” 

“Ah, so they know about the bank incident…”

“One of them.”

“It won’t take long for them to find out about the other incidents,” she laughed. 

Spencer groaned, “I’m never going to hear the end of it… Now why did I decide dating a kleptomaniac was okay?”

Y/N just grinned, “Cuz I’m a smooth criminal, huh?” 

“Corny,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips curled up. 

“Annie are you okay… are you okay…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing the lyrics. 

Spencer giggled like a kid; only she made him feel that way, “I don’t think Michael Jackson would appreciate that cover,”

“I don’t think Jessica would appreciate being silenced,” Y/N reached out, raising the volume of the music a tiny bit.

“Must we always speak of this woman as if we know her personally?” 

“Yes,”

--------

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[astrophileous]

The Monday Pursuit

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: The three times Derek tries to find out your name, and the one time he finally gets it. Or, the story of four different Mondays that Derek spends on the pursuit of your name.

Warning(s): shy!reader, cursing, public confrontation (verbal and physical) with a douchebag, verbal and physical threats, talks of killing someone, name-calling, protective derek, a bit of damsel in distress situation, and that's it really. this is just tooth-rotting fluff 💞

Word Count: 4300-ish

Author's Note: I FINALLY POSTED A DEREK ONE SHOT! YAY! I was toying around with the idea of making this a series of connected one shots, each one focusing on the significance of a particular day (tuesday, wednesday, thursday, etc) in the progress of your relationship. does that sound like something you guys would be interested in? tell me what you think! plsss!!! don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek noticed you on a Monday.

He couldn't count how many times his eyes had swept over you absentmindedly in the past few weeks. None of them ever lasted long enough for him to linger around, but somehow, this particular Monday was different.

It was different because the moment Derek's gaze drifted towards the direction where he would usually find you, he finally noticed that you were gone.

It was ironic in a way, how he only noticed you in the wake of your absence. But somewhere in the ruckus that his favorite coffee shop would whirl into every morning, Derek had begun associating the table in the corner of that place with you.

Even then, when someone else was occupying the seat at the end of his long stare, Derek could picture the scene in his head: your laptop on the table, a cup of steaming hot coffee in your hand, and a serious but adorable crease on the center of your forehead. Those three things stood out from the rest. Perhaps if he had the same eidietic ability as Spender Reid, Derek could list more details about your habits and person. Nonetheless, somewhere in his subsconscious, Derek's memories must have deemed you important enough to keep, and that was all it took for him to wonder what about you was so goddamn special.

His fog of reverie was soon broken by an interrupting voice, "She's out of town."

Derek turned his head to see one of the barristas giving him a sly smile. "Excuse me?"

"The writer. She's out of town."

"Writer?" Derek didn't know that. "She's a writer?"

"On the side. She's in grad school," the barrista said. "She has two books out and another one pending publication. She's in New York right now for a book signing."

The word impressive promptly filled Derek's mind, and judging by the barrista's expression, it seemed that the word had translated unmistakably on his face, too.

"You know, you shouldn't give out someone's information to random people like that," Derek warned.

"I don't usually, but I thought, since you're FBI..."

The surprise in Derek's eyes couldn't be more palpable. "How'd you know?"

"Dude, you've been around a while." The barrista shrugged. "Besides, I don't think she would mind."

Derek frowned.

"She likes you," the barrista revealed once they saw the confusion settling on Derek's face.

"What?"

"She's got a bad crush on you, didn't you know?"

"Uh, no?"

"Huh." The barrista put down the cup containing Derek's order on the counter. "I thought you knew. She was so obvious. I mean, I'm not sure how she hasn't burned through the back of your skull with how hard she always stares."

Flabbergasted couldn't even begin to describe what Derek was feeling. His curious eyes flicked momentarily towards your table before he addressed the barrista again, "She's a friend of yours?"

"Hell yeah, she is." The barrista smiled. "That's why I know she's got it bad for you."

Being admired wasn't exactly something new for Derek, so he struggled to comprehend why the thought of you crushing on him had triggered a wave of heat to travel up and down his body.

"What's her name?" Derek asked, trying to sound casual and nonchalant as he picked up his cup of coffee.

The barrista grinned smugly. "I thought you told me not to give someone's information to a random person like that?"

With that said, the barrista went to attend to another customer, leaving Derek to curse over his excellent ability to dig up his own hole.

You were back in town the following week.

When Derek walked into the coffee shop the next Monday, he immediately found you huddled up in your usual seat. For one split second, Derek saw you looking up from your laptop, your eyes locking with his from across the room. But before he could offer a smile, you averted your gaze as if you couldn't wait to get away from him.

That thought didn't conjure well in Derek's mind.

Derek proceeded to give his usual order and waited by the counter. However, when he saw a plate of blueberry muffin being placed next to his cup to go, Derek glimpsed up in confusion at the awaiting smirk on your friend's--the barrista's--face.

"I didn't order this."

"No, you didn't. But do you know whose favorite dessert it is?"

Derek casted a glance towards your direction.

"Exactly." The barrista grinned wider. "Now, go. It's on the house."

The loud drumming inside Derek's chest should have been laughable.

He was never like this. Derek was always self-assured, especially when it came to flirting and courting, so there really was no reason for him to be feeling like this. But something about you had spiked the rhytmic beating in his chest, and Derek didn't like being out of his element when there was a pretty girl at stake.

Thus, with an ease born out of years of practice, Derek worked to turn on his good ol' charm. The same one that dripped from his footsteps as he sauntered over your table with his coffee in one hand and one special plate of blueberry muffin in the other.

Deer caught in headlights; that was exactly the perfect description to visualize how you looked when Derek finally placed the muffin on the table. The man smirked triumphantly at the knowledge that he affected you just as much as you affected him.

"Hey," Derek greeted almost complacently. "I heard this is your favorite."

"What? I don't.... how did you..."

You stopped speaking altogether, sending a grimace to the direction of the counter--where your friend was working--when you deduced what could probably have transpired

"I missed you last week," Derek added.

If you were abashed before, then you must have been mortified when those words slipped out of Derek's lips. You looked up at him with a gaping mouth, and Derek would have laughed at how precious you looked if he didn't have compassion for your poor nerves.

"I was out of town," you eventually managed to say.

"I heard. A writer, right? You had a book signing." Derek smiled. "That's impressive. Anything of yours I might know?"

Your face contorted after hearing his question. "I doubt it. I'm not big at all."

"I don't know. Book signing in New York? Sounds pretty big to me."

"Not as much as you would expect, to be honest."

Derek didn't know why, but he despised the sound of you downplaying your own accomplishments as if they weren't worthy of being praised. He swore he would assist in changing that tendency if given the chance.

"My name is Derek. Derek Morgan."

"I know."

Derek raised a curious eyebrow.

You cowered shyly when you realized what you had admitted. "I heard you mention it a while ago, when you were ordering."

"And you remember?"

Your bashful expression nearly compelled Derek to cheer out loud.

"Do you need something?" you finally asked, not at all mean or bitter, more timid than anything else.

"Yes. I was wondering if I could ask for your name."

"My name?

Derek nodded. "Well, you see, I wanted to ask for your number, but I figured since I still don't have your name yet, then maybe I should get around to it first."

You bit your bottom lip, seemingly in deep thought as you assessed Derek with soft eyes.

"My name is--"

Just as the answer was dangling on the tip of your tongue, Derek's phone suddenly started to ring. He internally cursed his life for its partiality to bad timings, holding up an apologetic finger as he accepted the call without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beefcake, where are you?" Penelope Garcia asked from the other end of the line. "Hotch just told everyone to be up and running in 30."

"What? I thought the briefing starts in 30."

"He's debriefing on the plane. Another body just turned up."

"Shit. Shit. Okay, fine, I'll be there."

Derek ended the call in the next second, panic clouding his mind to the point that he failed to realize he didn't bid his usual farewell to his favorite tech analyst. In front of him, you were staring with a pair of expectant eyes that made Derek wish he could stop time to spend it by your side. Alas, such power only existed in fantasy, and Derek--frankly--didn't have enough time at hand to pay grievance over that fact.

"I'm sorry."

Your face fell at Derek's apology, even if slightly.

"God, this sucks. I wish I could stay. I haven't even--"

"Derek, it's okay," you cut him off. "Just go."

"But you didn't--"

"Derek." Your hand on the table slid forward, as though wanting to reach out to him but stopped shortly before you did. "I'm always here."

It was such a simple statement. Three small words that carried hardly any weight on their own whatsoever. But strung together, Derek knew exactly what you meant, the real meaning behind the sentence you chose to say.

You can go. It's okay. We'll continue this some other time.

Reeling from your generous understanding, Derek rushed a goodbye before sprinting towards the door. But just as he was about to touch its handle, he span around for one last look, calling out a sentence that he had pocketed safely as a promise.

"I'll see you soon."

Since Derek's last encounter with you at the coffee shop, the BAU had been thrown from one case to another in the span of two weeks, during which Derek seemed to struggle eliminating the thought of you from the depth of his mind.

When a new Monday rolled around, Derek found himself whistling to a favorite tune as he took the morning route towards the coffee shop. The day was a gloomy one, gray and cloudy with a high chance of rain, contrasting entirely with the sunshine inside Derek's chest. In a few minutes, he would finally see you again, and Derek couldn't wait to woo you into agreeing on a date with him as his palm pressed on the door of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, Derek's movements ceased the moment he stepped into the familiar establishment.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop struck no resemblance to what Derek had associated with the place: warm, safe, and welcoming. Instead, the taste of tension was hot on his tongue, sizzling under the thick silence that had rendered the entire room into a standstill.

In the middle of it all, just a few paces from where the front door stood, Derek had found you.

You were standing with your head down, which wasn't a strange sight considering that you often did that to avoid unwanted attention. But Derek never saw your lips quiver that way before, nor did he ever see your eyes blown so out of proportion in a telltale sign of fright.

Upon a further inspection of the room, Derek realized that he wasn't the only one whose eyes were trained on you. Every patron in the shop, including every worker behind the counter, was staring openly in your direction as well. He was a milisecond away from taking another step when the man in front of you started to scream out of the blue.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you fucking stupid?!"

The malicious words didn't sit well with the vituous bone in Derek's body. But it was seeing you flinch from the verbal onslaught that finally made Derek dash forward, putting himself as a shield between you and the insolent stranger.

"That's enough," Derek said as he tugged you behind his back.

The stranger looked up at Derek with an ugly scowl on his face. "Who the hell are you?!"

"If you have a problem, let's take this outsi--"

"I don't have a problem with you, dickhead. I have a problem with her!" Derek extended to his full height instinctively, trying to hide you from the brazen man. "Now, move. This is none of your fucking business!"

"It became my business the second you chose to disrupt everyone's morning," Derek countered. "Why don't you tell me what's going on here?"

"Why don't you ask your bitch, huh? She fucking started all of this."

"Fucking bastard."

Red clouded Derek's vision when he clenched the man's collar in his hand. All around him, the crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps. Satisfaction filled Derek's chest when he glimpsed the hint of fear in the man's eyes.

"I dare you to say one more word about her," Derek seethed. "I dare you."

"Derek." He felt your fingers then, twisting around a portion of his shirt, pulling desperately until Derek loosened his grip on the other man. "Please."

The douchebag stumbled dramatically when Derek finally discarded him to the side.

Derek span around, looking directly into your eyes for the first time that morning. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Instead of answering his question, you pushed past a frowning Derek, addressing the horrible man whose face was now crimson; either from rage or embarrassment, Derek didn't know. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry, sir." Your voice vibrated in the air. It wavered with a clear sign of tears. "I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I've caused you trouble. I'm sorry. And I apologize to everyone for ruining your day."

With that, you turned around and picked up your belongings that were scattered on the floor before dashing straight out of the door. Derek stared at your back until it disappeared from view.

"You better tell me what the fuck happened here," Derek fumed towards the man.

"You heard her. She fucked up, that's what happened."

"That's not true." A new voice arose. Derek turned his head to see your barrista friend standing behind the counter, their eyes flaming with anger.

"The poor girl spilled her coffee," another voice interjected. It belonged to an old lady who was standing at the very front of the line. "She didn't mean to, but it got all over his things. Then he just started screaming all kinds of stuff to her."

Derek closed his eyes before reopening them again, shooting daggers towards the man. "You're pulling this crap over a spilled fucking coffee?!"

The other man began to stutter. "She ruined important documents!"

"It wasn't even her fault," the barrista added. "He was too busy being on his phone to watch where he was going."

That last piece of information was the last straw for Derek.

He used his forearm to push the douchebag by the throat, slamming his back against the wall until the man gasped for air.

"You will never step foot in here again, do you hear me?" Derek pressed his elbow deeper into the man, stopping only when he started to nod frantically. "You don't come near this place, ever again. But most importantly, you don't come near her. I'm gonna fucking kill you if you do."

Derek let him go afterwards, ignoring the series of coughs that the man had fallen into while he marched towards the door.

"Don't even think for a minute that I'm gonna let this go!" the man shouted just as Derek was about to exit the coffee shop. "I'll be notifying the authorities about what happened here today. You'll see!"

The scoff Derek let out couldn't be more condescending. "Yeah, you do that. And when you do, tell them--" Derek reached into his pocket, pulling out his credentials before flashing it towards the man, "--the name's Agent Derek Morgan. FBI."

He slammed the door behind him.

Once outside, Derek's eyes darted around to find any trace of you in the midst of the morning rush hour. Eventually, he spotted the back of your head, walking away about a few feet ahead of him. Derek broke into a sprint almost immediately, squeezing himself in between the ocean of people, trying to catch up with you before realizing that he most like wouldn't be able to.

Just as he watched you turning a corner, Derek mourned the fact that he couldn't call out to you because he still didn't know your name.

It was the second Monday that Derek didn't see you anywhere in, or near, the coffee shop.

In total, it had been two whole weeks without you showing your face at the place, not even once. Your barrista friend was as clueless about your whereabouts as Derek was. He even had started coming into the shop at odd hours during the day, or whenever his schedule would allow him to, sometimes lingering for a few minutes in the morning just in case he would catch you walking through those doors.

You never did.

In a moment fueled by something akin to desperation, Derek found himself marching towards the office of Penelope Garcia. If there was anyone who could find you--who you were, where you were, and everything else about you--it was going to be the team's tech genius.

The tech analyst wasn't in the room when Derek entered, and as he found himself standing there--alone in the silence--Derek was confronted by how ridiculous he was being.

He couldn't understand why he was acting like this. Why the thought of never seeing you again managed to lure him into considering a breach of privacy. Derek had barely even talked to you, yet whatever brief interaction the two of you had so far was enough to affect him in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Derek decided to turn around and vacant the room before anyone could catch him lingering there like an idiot, but his steps fell short when he saw Penelope standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, Sugar?" Penelope questioned, her eyes squinting into a suspicion-filled look.

"Looking for you, of course," Derek lied.

"Derek Morgan, I didn't spend years working with the best profilers in the country to not be able to tell when someone is lying." Penelope walked towards her chair, making sure that she was settled comfortably before swiveling around to face Derek again. "Talk to me."

"Babygirl, there's nothing to talk about."

"Oh my God. It's about a girl."

How the fuck does she do that?

"Derek, you tell me right now every single thing about this lovely creature who has captured your heart, and I meant every single thing. What's her name? What does she do? Where did you guys meet? You guys are official, right? Because if not, then--"

"Okay, Blondie, pump your brakes," Derek interfered before Penelope could vomit the entire content of the Oxford dictionary. "There's no girl."

Penelope frowned. "There isn't?"

"No."

"But you want it to be?"

Derek couldn't give her an answer.

"Mister, you tell me what's going on right now, and don't leave out any details."

So, that was exactly what Derek ended up doing.

He told Penelope about you; about the little snippets of yourself that had infiltrated Derek's subsconscious without him even realizing it, about your first proper interraction where your smile looked more appetizing than the blueberry muffin he had put on the table, and about the incident that marked his last ever encounter with you.

By the time he wrapped the story up, Penelope's face was a heap of reactions.

"You know," the tech analyst finally said, "I can probably find her for you."

"I told you I don't want that, Sweetness."

"But why?!" Penelope nearly whined. "You like her, and her friend said she obviously likes you, too. What if you never see her again? Are you seriously just going to let your story end in what ifs?"

"Of course, I don't want that. But this is not how I want our story to start, too, if there is even gonna be one." Derek gripped Penelope's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "Thanks for the offer, Babygirl, but maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

For the rest of that day, Derek threw himself into work in order to keep his head preoccupied with something else other than the images of you.

In a few hours, he had successfully completed all of the pending case reports that were piling on his desk. A quick glance at the clock told Derek that he still had another three hours before he was supposed to go home. Sighing, Derek got up from his desk and walked towards the pantry.

"It's been four hours," Derek heard Emily say as soon as he walked towards the kitchenette. "What are they doing there?"

"She could be a reporter. Maybe she's interviewing him," Spencer theorized.

"Who's interviewing who?" Derek asked.

He headed for the coffee maker only to realize that there was no coffee left. Derek cursed under his breath before he went to make a fresh batch.

"Rossi has a guest, and they've been in his office for four hours," Spencer explained.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Really? I didn't see anyone."

"She came in during lunch."

"Huh. A woman?"

Spencer nodded.

"Potential lover?" Derek asked again.

"I don't think so. She's young."

"Unless, he's that kind of guy." Emily smirked.

Spencer frowned. "What kind of guy?"

"I don't think Rossi's like that." Derek chuckled.

"Who is she, then?" Emily questioned.

"Is no one going to tell me what kind of guy Rossi is?" Spencer suddenly said.

"A student, perhaps? A fan? Who knows?" Derek shrugged. "Or maybe you were right. She's here to interview him."

"Oh! Here they come!" Emily exclaimed a few minutes later.

Derek turned to steal a glance at the guest that had captured his fellow teammates' interest. But just as he was about to catch a glimpse of her, Derek suddenly spilled hot coffee everywhere, flooding nearly half the counter until some of it dripped down the cabinets as well.

"Shit." Derek stared at the mess he had made in annoyance. "Fuck me."

"She's really pretty, though," Emily pointed out--no doubt about Rossi's guest--earning an agreeing hum from Spencer.

After he had cleaned up the spilled coffee, Derek ambled back towards the direction of his desk. As he was passing the glass doors to the bullpen, however, Derek saw Rossi standing in front of the elevator, waving towards the person who had just walked inside of it.

Someone who--as Derek realized with a particularly loud thump in his chest--turned out to be you.

Derek was barely able to place the steaming cup of coffee on a random desk before he made a run for the elevator. But just as he reached Rossi's side, the elevator's doors had closed, making you vanish once more from Derek's sight.

"Shit," Derek muttered. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Beside him, Rossi was staring in open confusion. "Morgan?"

Derek finally turned towards the older man. "The girl who was in the elevator. Who is she?"

Rossi's forehead creased. "Why?"

"Do you know her?"

"She's a fellow crime writer. She was here for a consultation," Rossi answered. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Her name. What's her name?"

"What the hell is going on, Morgan?"

"Rossi, come on, man," Derek sounded desperate, but he didn't care. "I just need her name."

Derek barely succeeded in mumbling a quick thank you to Rossi for giving him your name before he rushed straight to the emergency stairs. The entire run down to the lobby was a blur in Derek's eyes. The only focus in his mind was about getting to you.

Once he was outside of the headquarters building, Derek saw you walking a few paces ahead of him in the direction of the parking lot. He shouted your name with all of his might, seeing you stop and turn your body around from the distance, and soon enough, he had managed to close it in a matter of seconds.

Derek was a mess of panting breaths and drumming heartbeats when he finally stood in front of you. The look you gave him spoke of surprise and bewilderment, and Derek relished in the feeling of being at the receiving end of your lovely gaze.

"Derek? What? What are you--"

"I work with Rossi," Derek stated simply.

Your eyebrows escalated in surprise. "You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you earlier with him," Derek continued. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Derek allowed his eyes to roam over your entire person, from the top of your head to the tip your toes. There was no malice in his stare as he did, just appreciation, and maybe a little bit of longing from not having seen you in such a long time.

"I haven't been to the coffee shop again. Not after--" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I was embarrassed. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

"You got dragged into my mess. I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing. Okay? What happened wasn't your fault. That man was just an asshole," Derek told you truthfully. "You don't have to be worried about him anymore. He's never coming back."

His last statement caused you to lift your head up so fast, Derek was scared you were going to have a whiplash.

"Nothing happened, sweetheart," he elaborated once he saw the panic in your eyes. "I just made sure to let him know that he wasn't welcome there anymore."

The breath you let out sounded eerily similar with relief.

"Thank you, Derek. For everything," you offered shyly. "Please tell me if there's anything I could do to make it up to you."

That last sentence you uttered prompted a wide grin across Derek's face. "Actually, there may be something."

Derek took a step closer towards you then, noting the way your shoulders tensed up from his proximity. His own senses were overcome by everything about you; from the slight parting of your lips, the steady rise and fall of your chest that seemed to be growing more rapid in Derek's presence, and to the sweet plus addictive smell of your perfume.

Taking his own deep breath, Derek forced the words--the same ones that he had been keeping deep inside of him--to tumble freely into the air.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

[darlingdekarios]

hibernate.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,152 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, animal hunting mentions, cannon-accurate outlaw behavior, cowboy meet cute, Arthur Morgan is a simp, snowed in, fluff, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], kink(s) [spit as lube]

it was like fate insisted on the two of you colliding.

The first time you’d met Arthur Morgan was a lovely March night in New Hanover, opportunities abound as the hustle and bustle of life was at its highest point of the year, the weather the most tolerable for moving about. Returning from an evening of fishing now that the water wasn’t frozen in some areas and sketching birds by the river when he stumbled across a lone figure boarding train – well after midnight. He followed on horseback under the cover of trees in anticipation, joined by your own horse shortly after. He followed alongside with a hold of the strange horse’s reins until the train came to a stop. 

He'd strained to hear you, considered boarding after you to clean up any straggling guards – it wasn’t his business, so he didn’t – but curiosity held him close. When the sound of police approaching quickly began you emerged to the top of the train, looking around desperately for your horse. Temporarily frozen when the moonlight caught your face and confirmed to the man that you were a woman, he recovered just in time to spring into action.

It had been Arthur who had led your horse to you and instructed you to follow. It was Arthur’s path that led you away from the law and eventually far enough away to be free of their hunting.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, lady?” he questioned when the two of you slowed side-by-side under the cover of thick trees, his face hard-set and stern. “You coulda gotten yourself tossed away for a long time back there.”

“I didn’t, though,” you laughed, and despite the feeling that burned in him that he couldn’t quite place as anger or worry Arthur’s stomach flipped at the sound and the way your laugh reached your eyes. You adjusted your hat with a playful smile on your lips, keeping the reins to your horse in one hand. 

“Thanks to me,” he asserted, the stress causing him to light up a cigarette and adjust his hat. His eyes caught your gaze and you held it, appreciating his handsome features for a moment as your smile twisted wider.

“I would’ve figured it out, cowboy – you can be sure of that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve seen your face on ‘wanted’ posters, Mr. Morgan,” you proclaimed, tone proud as you called him on his identity. He took another drag from his cigarette before leaning forward comfortably in his saddle, outstretching a hand toward you. 

“Arthur,” he offered, amusement flashing across his features when you shook his hand firmly. “And I’ve seen yours, too. What is it they call you…?”

“The Panther,” you replied, that proud tone ever-present in your voice. “A nice tribute to my best hunt.”

His poker face was too well-trained to reveal that he was impressed – that he was intrigued.

“Well next time you go thinkin’ of doing something so goddamn stupid like rob a train at midnight alone,” he began, gruff voice filled with frustration as he attempted to present his unamused façade. “You could invoke that particular nickname and be a little more subtle.”

The second time was just as circumstantial. It was July – the heat sweltering, the air sticky, the fireflies sparkling in fields at night. You’d been riding for days, hunting gators in the swamps for weeks and now headed back to a more familiar area where you felt more at home. Just past Emerald Ranch you’d spotted him on the road ahead – his hat unmistakable and burned into your mind, his horse giving away his identity to anyone who knew it. 

There was no questioning if he’d want your company – you didn’t even give it a thought. Instead, you’d hastened your own horse to catch up with him.

“Where ya headed, cowboy?” you questioned as you approached from behind, adjusting your hat back on your head to offer more of your face to him. Your voice immediately sent a shiver down his spine, the barely-there smile crossing his features unmissed by you.

Four months trying to remember your face and voice hadn’t done it any justice.

“Valentine,” he replied, slowing his horse’s stride to match yours. The two of you set a lazy pace, in no real hurry to get anywhere. “You following me now, cat?”

“Like I ain’t got better things to do, Mr. Morgan?” you joked, nose scrunching as you smiled. The Summer sun had done beautiful things for your color, he noted. “Give you $50 and shine your guns if you can beat me there.”

“Are you tryin’ to race me?” he questioned with a subtle laugh, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Won’t be much of a race, cowboy.”

He let out a real, genuine, albeit short laugh at that. The sound filled the air around you, made birds vacate trees. Your heart soared away alongside them.

“And what is it you want if you win?”

“A nice bottle of whisky,” you replied after a brief moment of thought, reaching your hand to rub your horse’s neck gently. Arthur had forgotten how gentle your hands were with everything they touched – the rediscovery lighting up his mind. “And a hot meal at your camp.”

“Can’t promise the gang’ll let you eat at camp without drinking, too.”

“Which is why I asked for a bottle of whisky,” you remarked, that shit-eating grin he was starting to love spreading on your face again. “Do we have a deal?”

“Hope your horse is fast enough to back up that mouth of yours,” he quipped back, intentionally antagonizing you as he started to pick up the speed slightly. “Or that you’ve got plenty of gun oil.”

You shot forward then, the dust of the road kicking up behind you as you left Arthur behind on a road you both knew well. In reality he could’ve caught you – could’ve even won if he’d pushed his horse hard enough – but the sound of your laughter in the cool evening air was reason enough to lose. 

It wasn’t a surprise when you crossed over into the town first.

“You cheated,” he argued as he approached, allowing his horse to slow to a reasonable speed for being around other people. “Got a head start. Doesn’t count.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, reaching up to remove his hat to resituate his wind-blown hair. You were momentarily transfixed on his fingers running through the strands that looked soft – maybe in need of a wash but soft nonetheless – but quickly wished he’d left it messy. “Weren’t mean you didn’t get a head start, cat.”

“Oh, like a couple steps mattered,” you entered an easy banter with him, just like the two of you had done in the Spring. He’d missed it – hadn’t realized how much he had until then. “Coulda given you a five-minute head start and still would’ve beat you and that slowpoke horse you ride.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re difficult?” 

“Heard it a couple times,” there was that smile again – the nose crinkling one. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his thoughts to himself with you smiling that way – at him. You jumped down from your stallion and hitched him with ease, feeding the massive animal a small snack in appreciation of his efforts. “I can compromise. I buy the whisky, but I still get a hot meal at your camp.”

He pondered your proposal only briefly before nodding, letting out an affirmative huff in agreeance. “I’ll meet you at the butcher when you’re done.”

You gave your horse a gentle pat and nodded, turning back to meet his gaze. “Sell that fox pelt I have up on Scratch, will ya?”

Easy. Simple. Honest. Sensible. Arthur loved having you around camp that night – and the night after when you’d been convinced to stay again by the women – though it was hardly just them that enjoyed your company. You’d made easy companions in the camp with your sharp tongue and ability to hold your alcohol. You had plenty of stories to share with Arthur’s chosen family – each one of them genuinely interesting to the gang.

Everyone knew the fact Arthur had brought you around meant you were a good person. The beauty was a bonus, he’d been informed in privacy. He’d only told Sean to shut his mouth in response. Arthur slept by the fire that night so you could sleep in his cot, and if anyone else in the gang saw the way he’d sat up for at least an hour with his eyes transfixed on your sleeping figure in his bed. 

It was Fall, October to be exact, the next time he heard from you – this time you had taken fate into your own hands to seek out his company. He was certain he’d never be able to dispose the letter you’d penned and sent to his camp.

Dear Arthur, Kinda strange to call you “dear”, huh?  Anyway, I have a job comin’ up in Saint Denis that involves me boarding a train quite late at night and remembering our conversation earlier this year I thought I may ask you to join.  Job is planned for the night of October 18, the Saturday after next. I’ll meet you the Friday before at the saloon in Van Horn if you plan on joining me.  I do hope you join me.  Hope that gang of yours isn’t being too rough on you. 

He arrived in Van Horn a day early and rented himself a room – and a bath – so he was prepared for the meeting. He was in the saloon before you, his chest clenching as you walked in through the swinging doors. 

You’d taken a page from his book and clearly bathed recently as well, and you were dressed for the first time in front of him in feminine attire. The sight of you in a skirt shouldn’t have affected him the way it did – it was embarrassing for a man his age. It didn’t prevent the pressure building at his waist, nor did it stop him from speaking his mind.

“You had to wear that damn skirt, didn’t ya?” he questioned when you joined him, a smile spreading across your face. It was hardly a gentlemanly way to greet you, but then again, he was hardly a gentleman. “Knew what you were doin’ puttin’ that on with me coming in today…”

“You complained so much about the pants last time I figured I’d save myself the headache,” you replied, sliding into a chair next to him and crossing your legs for emphasis. “You don’t like it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kitten,” he’d practically purred – a new tone between the two of you. There was no denying that you wanted to hear it more, and you nearly chose to forget the real reason you were now sitting beside him. 

“I need to look the part tomorrow for the job,” you replied quickly, eager to squash the tension now building between the two of you, unwilling to allow the job to go forgotten. There was too much money at stake. “Have to board a real nice train when it leaves out of Saint Denis tomorrow night. There’s a safe onboard I’d like to get my hands into.”

“Can’t just rob it the old-fashioned way?”

“Someone didn’t like the last time I did that,” you teased, feeling pleased with the smile it earned. “Figured I’d board and crack the safe.”

“Why you need me then?”

“Need someone to play my husband and keep watch while I’m workin’ on the safe.”

“Your husband,” he huffed out with another laugh, a brief shake to his head. The term had always been silly to him, just as silly as the idea of marriage was to you as a whole, really – and yet, there was no denying the clench in both of your chests at the mere thought. The imaginary suggestion manifested in brief images of domesticity, the vision of you sleeping in his cot in July flashing in his mind. 

You didn’t miss the slight redness to his cheeks, he didn’t miss how your smile fluttered into something laced with affection. For all your joking demeanor, it was still clear that there was some secretive sincerity beneath the surface – that you cared for Arthur. And on Arthur’s part, well…he wouldn’t ride across the country to work for just anyone.

“Yes,” you replied when you’d pulled yourself from the depths of his eyes. “A woman travelling with her husband is far less likely to draw attention than if I were alone.”

You thought there would be some protest, though if you’d seen even a fraction of the thoughts Arthur had conjured up in the preceding months you’d never have to question it. To you what seemed to be him conceding was actually the outlaw taking a step he’d long considered taking with you the next chance he got. 

Arthur just wanted to spend time with you – there were probably very few things he’d say no to right now in regard to you. He wouldn’t go admitting that out loud anytime soon either. 

“Fine, I’ll go along with your little plan. Only so you don’t go gettin’ yourself arrested.”

“Great!” you exclaimed, the brightness that covered your face blinding but serving as confirmation that he was making the right choice. The money he was sure to get would be a bonus, too. “I got you a wedding ring. Looks like it’ll fit. You can sell it when the job’s done, as a thank you.”

“You get it off a dead body?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

There was that goddamn feeling in his chest again. 

This was the fourth time destiny had crossed your path with Arthur Morgan’s. 

Now, the ring still lay in the outside pouch of his satchel, the cool metal brushing against the tips of his calloused fingers often daily in a physical reminder of you. Today, feeling the pull of being apart from you for four months now and into the new year, he’d been clutching the metal in his gloved hands as he led his horse through the far North. Seeking the solitary bliss of being alone in the mountains for the winter, he had opted to simply ride and camp, sketching in his journal and enjoying the snow dusted scenery. Arthur’s plan was soon thwarted as a snowstorm began to roll in.

He'd been riding along the same worn path to make his way down the mountain when he noticed horse tracks leading into the thick forest – a horse, by the look of it, with no reemergence to be seen. Opting to do the honorable thing, Arthur pursued the trail, weaving through trees atop his own horse until he came to a small clearing where you were setting predator bait.

He didn’t know the kind of words to describe the way he felt seeing you right in front of him.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, cat?” 

If he had a way with words, he’d tell you that your smile was brighter than the sun itself – fleeting shooting stars, the North Star when he’s lost. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked me that question, Mister Morgan,” you replied, standing up and patting your horse as your gaze remained transfixed on him now. Even at this distance you could see the blue in his coat had electrified his eyes, the tone a perfect match for the world around you. You found it hard to form any further rebuttal. 

“Won’t be the last either, given you’re doing something fucking crazy every time I see you,” he teased, finally giving into the natural ease he felt with you. The light air between the two of you had finally lulled him into a sense of comfort around you – he was willing to admit he was concerned, in his own way. “There’s a storm rollin’ in. You trying to freeze to death?”

“Trying to hunt a white wolf,” you replied, glancing back at the bait you’d just set and adjusting the bow you held in your hands, an arrow already grasped between two fingers. 

Fuckin’ hell, Arthur thought. ‘Course that’s what you’re out here doing.

“You ain’t gonna be hunting much of anything when you turn into an icicle,” he replied, hopeful that you would understand his taunting was coming from a place of concern – not control. “You got Scratch nearby?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you smiled, slipping the arrow back into the quiver on your back and whistling to call your horse back to you. You mounted up on the animal easily, Arthur taking the moment to appreciate how languid your movements were – how graceful. His eyes lingered at your waist for a moment longer than was decent.

“If I remember right there’s a cabin just up the road. Been empty the last few times I rode by,” he explained, his words offering more than just a place to shield from the freeze. 

Arthur wanted to spend time with you. You’d truly have to be a lunatic to think otherwise.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The snow picked up as the two of you rode side-by-side, both of your horses slowing as the powder piled up, creating heavier footsteps. While Arthur spoke to his horse beside you to soothe her through the storm, you could feel his eyes consistently on you despite the painful whip of flakes against his unshielded cheeks.

What could have been a short ride in the summer extended in the weather, and by the time the cabin approached view you had begun to shiver – something Arthur took note of. When he climbed from his horse he unrolled the blanket on the back of his saddle, passing it up to you before grabbing his shotgun. 

“I’ll check inside, you try not to shiver s’much you fall off your horse.”

He disappeared into the cabin, your mind focusing on the sounds of him moving about rather the piling snow that was sure to trap you for days. Keeping yourself wrapped in his blanket provided the additional comfort of his lingering scent, and you found yourself clutching the fabric tighter and tighter as the moments passed.

“This’ll be fine ‘til the storm’s passed,” he announced as he exited through the doors, voice raised so you could hear him over the wind. “You go on in while I get some firewood and hitch the horses.”

“I can help, you know,” you offered, eyebrows pulling together to communicate your frustration. 

“Would you stop your arguing for once and go inside out of this shit?”

By the time Arthur made his way in from the storm you’d used what wood remained in the cabin to start a fire, the flames warming the air around it quickly. The mattress was considerably dirty and out of the question, so you were validated in the decision to carry in your bedrolls and blankets, having set them up comfortably in front of the fire. 

His heavy boots sounded on the floor as he approached where you sat on the floor from behind, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Already got a fire going?”

“Uh huh,” you replied, noting the subtle shake to his voice. Arthur was strong, but he was human, and he was cold. The fact that he not only was willing to but insisted on suffering for you caused a knot to form in your stomach. “Got some whisky if you need help warming up.”

He simply grunted affirmatively in reply, setting the stack of wood carefully to the side and picking out the driest pieces to tend the fire with now. You tempted to hand the bottle out to him, the liquid going ignored as he began to peel off layer by layer, tossing the soaked clothing to the side lazily with little regard for how they ended up. Normally you’d have stood to hang the clothes, but you found yourself spellbound by the way Arthur’s muscles flexed with each movement under the simple wet damp button up shirt – the last remaining layer.

When he was somewhat comfortable, he turned to face you, eyes flashing with amusement as he took the bottle from your fingers. You were certain your mouth was hanging open and he’d caught you. At the moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

Hours passed as the two of you got warm and caught up over the last few weeks. You sat opposite one another, both wrapped in your own blankets and full of enough whisky to ignore the storm outside – to ignore everything but one another. Arthur hadn’t missed that most of your clothes lie neatly folded atop the countertop. The thought was repeating in his mind – the heavy question of what exactly remained under the blanket haunting him. 

He couldn’t be blamed for not being a good listener. 

“Arthur, are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Not a fuckin’ word,” he replied with one more small swig of whisky from the bottle, setting it well out of the way to the side. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that if you want me to listen.”

“Doing what?”

You knew damn well what.

“Lookin’ at me like you want me to come crawl on top of you.”

Why on Earth would you ever stop doing that? 

“No.”

Your mouth was going to drive him to insanity one day. He wasn’t going to do a single thing about it.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’?” 

“Yeah, Arthur, I surely did,” you replied, quick and agile as you were on your feet. He was beginning to think you may only talk to hm this way, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to reach out to you. “Hoping you take the hint.”

The blanket he’d been using for himself was discarded to the side, your words finally snapping the thin thread of control that remained in him. He extended one arm outward toward the floor to support himself, outstretching his legs to be situated in a more comfortable position before his eyes found yours again. 

“Come on over here,” his invitation came thick as molasses and dripping just as sweet, his free hand patting his right thigh to give his words deeper meaning. “Bring the blanket.”

Arthur had finally figured out how to get you to stop arguing and basked in the glory of the moment as you crawled to him carefully, finding a comfortable seat in his lap as you straddled his thighs. He savored the view as you wrapped your arms around his neck, encompassing you both with the blanket, your face illuminated by the golden glow of the well-tended fire – beautiful, warm, inviting. 

He was more than happy to finally accept. 

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

He knew you were trying to sound resolute as you always did – firm and demanding and impossible to deny. While those things lingered – he doubted they could ever truly be gone from you – what really laced your words was the quietest of whines. He sat up fully, bringing his torso closer to yours and grasping your hips in both hands, all the while your heart beating faster and faster in anticipation.

When you opened your mouth to let your protest be known again, he took his opportunity to claim your lips in a long-awaited kiss, the feeling of his lips caressing yours sucking the air from your chest immediately. He opted to slide his hands to your lower back to bring you in closer, pressing your chests together as he kissed you hungrily. Touch starved and overwhelmed by the feeling of you returning his kiss with soft lips he sought more of your skin, sliding his hands up the back of the loose blouse you remained in. 

“Clothes are still wet,” he grumbled against your lips, displeased by the cool touch to your skin that remained. You scrambled to reinitiate the kiss, your lips catching his bottom lip as a whine slipped through your lips. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose. 

“Take them off, then,” you breathed out, bowing your head to press a delicate kiss to his neck. His own breath caught, arms wrapping tighter around you – almost too tight, almost too crushing. You made no move to stop him as you began to test the best places to leave your kisses, spurring him to release his hold on you to start peeling the last layers from both of you. 

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear when all that remained were intimate coverings, a shaky groan rolling through his chest. His hands engulfed you, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, dipping his head to claim your lips again. 

That kiss was hungry – starved – clumsy in ways that screamed of desperation. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples lightly, a smile evident on his lips despite the fact he continued to kiss you as a moan slipped from your throat. It spiraled from there, both of your hands exploring, your fingers the best thing he’d felt against his skin in a long time. As the pressure built heavier at your waist his hands trailed lower, one stopping to grasp your waist, the other slipping into the waistband of your underwear. 

He'd never heard music that sounded as good as the sound of the moan that left you as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds, an appreciative hum shaking in his throat as you burrowed your face in his neck. 

“You’re already soaked for me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice getting lower and lower with each word. He began to sink his index finger into you, grasping your hip tighter in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tight, too. Hell.”

“Arthur…”

“Aw, hush,” he cooed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple as he curled his finger inside you, pulling a quiet whimper from you. “No point tryin’ to talk right now, darlin’ – just lemme take care of ya.”

He could take his sweet time, Arthur Morgan. He was a patient man, especially when it came to you, and never more-so than now as he began to work his finger in and out of your clenching heat. He added a second finger soon, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit to give you more pressure, which you gladly accepted by rocking your hips into it. 

As he pumped his fingers into you he began to trail kisses lower, the kisses growing heavier and wetter the further down he went. By the time he nipped at your hip with his teeth lightly you were breathless, eyes squeezed shut as you lost yourself to pleasure. He kissed across your waistline as he pulled your underwear down, smiling against your skin lightly when you kicked them free with frustrated fervor. 

Nothing up to this point compared to the feeling of Arthur sliding his tongue from his fingers to your clit, giving the sensitive bundle of nerves a soft suck. He repeated the motion as you struggled to even moan, your hands grasping at the blankets now on the floor beneath you as you tried to rock your hips into his face desperately.

“Easy, now,” Arthur reprimanded with quiet reverence behind his words, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh softly. “I’m takin’ my time with you, don’t rush me.”

You finally opened your eyes, ready to give him an earful about being a tease, only to be frozen once again faced with the sight of Arthur, golden illuminated by the fire and somehow still wearing his hat tipped back on his head. You maintained eye contact with him as you reached forward with your hands, removing the hat with one hand and placing it on your own head as your fingers ran through his hair, giving a soft tug at the end. 

The growl vibrated through him and you as he connected his lips to your clit, pumping his fingers into you and connecting the tips, curling them skillfully to rub against the sensitive patch deep within you as he sucked your clit. All the while he maintained eye contact, even when he removed his mouth from you with one final flick of his tongue, just as he removed his fingers from you. 

“Arthur…” you whimpered in protest, tugging his hair again to try to bring him back to your needy core.

“Hush,” he instructed tenderly, slipping his hands under your ass and grasping firmly to lift your waist from the floor. He soaked in the view of your glistening folds at this angle and tested how it looked to watch one of his fingers slip into you before removing it, licking his lips again. “You are a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your reply was sucked from your chest and altered into a cry of pleasure as he spit on your folds, smearing the liquid around before connecting his thumb to your clit, rubbing a figure eight. Supporting your raised hips still with one hand he continued to rub your clit, now using his tongue to fuck into you rather than his fingers, tasting you how he’d wanted to for nearly a year now.

The pressure continued to build and boil, eventually reaching a point of eruption – all the usual signs there with your shaking thighs, shorter and desperate breaths, your nails scratching against his temple as you gripped whatever you could. Arthur figured it was a previously unknown bonus to him keeping his hair a little on the longer side. He groaned to encourage you, switching his movements to pump his fingers into you again, circling your clit with his tongue until you became incendiary, your first orgasm washing through you with white hot heat.

He continued to lap at your folds as you came, removing his tongue from you occasionally only to kiss your thighs and mutter tender praises as you came back down to your body. When you had some sense about yourself, he was crawling back up you, pressing kisses to your stomach and breasts before he reached your lips, offering you a taste of your own honey sweet pleasure on his tongue.

When the adoration filled amorous kiss ended so Arthur could breathe you began to trail kisses down his neck again, following a trail to his chest before his index finger caught under your chin, lifting you back up to him, cerulean eyes questioning.

“Your turn,” you offered, slipping one of your hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock slowly. Running your finger over the velvet head you smeared the pre-spend leaking already, biting at your swollen bottom lip when he moaned. 

“Not tonight, sweet thing,” he declined, his hesitation clear in his voice. You began to rub him gently – slowly – too damn slow – causing his eyes to roll back briefly. “You wrap these lips around me, and I won’t last long enough t’ fuck you.”

“Please.”

You didn’t truly know what you were begging for – for him to test himself and allow you to take his already throbbing cock into your mouth or for him to follow through on that promise to fuck you. Luckily, Arthur seemed to know exactly what your words were asking for – what you needed. 

He reached to remove your hand from his cock gently, freeing himself of his underwear before he gently moved you to your side, lying beside you with his back to the fire to shield you from getting too much heat, to ensure you didn’t get hurt. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other slid to cup your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer to him as he kissed you again. 

As much fun as he’d been having teasing, he was done with the games now, and could no longer find the patience. He reached to lift your leg around his waist before grasping his cock, rubbing against your still-soaked entrance for a moment to gather some lubrication before he sank into you. Inch by inch disappeared into your velvet channel, the kiss practically halting as you gasped. He leaned his forehead against yours instead, grasping your waist gently as he continued to slip into you.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he breathed out. The large hand that still cupped your cheek slipped downward to rest against your neck instead, his fingertips digging into your skin in attempt to steady himself, to savor your pulse beneath his touch. “Takin’ me so good. You doin’ okay?”

You nodded as you stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open already at the feeling of him stretching you, almost too full but not something you’d be willing to give up anytime soon. When he’d fully seated himself within you, his cock buried to the hilt he released a shaky groan of his own, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the feeling of being wrapped up in you.

“Goddamn you’re tight,” he groaned out, pressing several light kisses to your lips before grinding his hips into yours slightly. “Shoulda crawled ‘tween your legs months ago.”

“Would…ah…woulda let you,” you managed to reply, pressing your lips to his in an unabashedly salacious kiss, already perfecting how to slot your lips against his in a way that left him craving more. He couldn’t hold back his movements any longer and began to pump into you repeatedly, setting a wanton and quick pace that somehow managed to remain tender and reverent.

He could only be tender for so long, desperation and months of waiting and yearning building in him. His movements began to get sloppy sooner than he’d have liked, though he felt better when your walls began to flutter and clench around him, your thigh shaking around his hip slightly. He picked up his pace to a much more relentless one, driving his cock into you and into your spongy cervix repeatedly as his grunts became more frequent, pressing kisses to your neck now.

“Want you to finish while I’m inside you,” he instructed, though there was something so subtly desperate behind his words – a quiet beg that only someone who knew him would recognize. “Think you can do that for me, darlin’?”

You nodded before leaning your head back again, quiet cries leaving your lips as he connected his thumb to your clit again, immediately choosing a relentless pace to rub in circles. You were almost certain you’d do anything he asked and soon enough you were pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching him so tight he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remove himself. He did his best to continue pumping into you roughly now as he sought his own release, certain you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Like you’d need to, anyway. 

“F-fill me up, Arthur,” you begged unexpectedly through your euphoria, and he didn’t need anything else to convince him. With only a few more bruising thrusts he stilled inside you as he emptied his seed in hot ropes into you, groaning loudly as he lazily leaned his forehead to yours again, his own eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t remove himself from you when you’d both ridden your orgasms, instead holding you close and reaching to cover the two of you in one of the blankets that was on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly to hold you closer to him, slipping one of his legs between yours for additional comfort and warmth. Still semi-hard with plenty of stamina to offer you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him seated in you still, buried as deep as possible as he brushed his nose against yours. 

“Be a whole lot warmer this way,” he offered, giving a subtle move of his hips to emphasize the meaning behind his words. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before reaching upward to kiss your forehead, leaving his lips resting there. He was right – you did finally feel warm.

“Mm,” was all you could reply, laying your head against his shoulders and closing your eyes, burrowing your face into his neck. He smiled as you managed to press lazy kisses into his neck before wrapping your arms around him as well. 

“Think I’ll keep you here all winter,” he offered after several blissful moments, his head leaning to rest on the top of yours as his own eyes closed. He pressed one final kiss to your temple before succumbing to the comfort of you fully.

“Always knew you were a big teddy bear, Arthur,” you teased. How you managed to run your mouth still after he’d fucked you right was beyond him – but it was also probably a reason he’d want to keep fucking you.

“We’ll call it hibernation, then.”

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

[anniebeemine]

I saw on your nav that requests are open!!

Could I please request something where the reader is also a BAU agent and the team notices they practically live off of energy drinks sorta like spencer is with coffee?

And one day Morgan is over st Spencer's and notices that his fridge is stocked with energy drinks and he teases spence about it, saying stuff like how he's bribing the reader with them but it turns out reader and spence are together in secret so he keeps them there for when the reader stays over?

(I'm a sucker for a secret relationship fic!!!!)

eeee. Thank you for this!!!

The sound of keyboards clacking filled the BAU bullpen as agents poured over case files. The atmosphere buzzed with the usual urgency, but a particular focus was on you. For the past few weeks, your colleagues had noticed a trend: you had become heavily reliant on energy drinks, much like Spencer’s infamous coffee habit.

“Hey, how many of those are you downing a day?” Morgan teased as he leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing his arms with a smirk. He glanced at the pile of brightly colored cans that seemed to multiply daily. “You trying to fuel a rocket or something?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “They help me stay focused, Morgan. Not all of us are coffee connoisseurs like Reid.”

He chuckled, leaning closer. “At this rate, you’ll have more energy than the rest of us combined. You’re going to start bouncing off the walls.”

As if on cue, Spencer walked by, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of your desk. He shot you a knowing look before turning his attention back to his paperwork, but not before you caught the hint of a smile on his lips.

+++

It was Spencer’s turn to host game night, and the apartment buzzed with the lively chatter of the team. Everyone had their usual places in his living room, where cards and snacks littered the coffee table. The energy in the room was high, with JJ teasing Garcia about her competitive streak while Hotch observed the chaos with an amused smile. Spencer had slipped away to the kitchen in search of more snacks for the group when Derek, curious as always, wandered toward the fridge to grab a drink.

Opening the fridge, Derek’s eyebrow shot up almost immediately. The shelves were stocked—not just with the usual assortment of food and bottled water—but with a suspiciously large amount of energy drinks, the bright cans standing out like neon signs.

“Whoa, Reid!” Derek exclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear, causing heads to turn. “Man, your fridge looks like a gas station! What’s with all the energy drinks?”

Spencer paused in the middle of opening a bag of chips, his head snapping up toward the fridge. His heart skipped a beat. He'd been stocking up on your favorite energy drinks for weeks now, making sure he had enough to keep you comfortable whenever you stayed over. He knew how much they helped get you through your long shifts at the BAU and late nights working cases, but he also knew you wouldn't have to run off to buy one before work.

Trying to play it cool, Spencer shoved the chips into a bowl, forcing himself to look unaffected. “Uh, just thought I’d keep them on hand. You know... for late nights.”

Derek wasn’t having it. He leaned against the fridge door, crossing his arms with a wide grin. “Sure, for late nights, huh? What, you trying to bribe Y/N into coming over more often?” he asked, his tone dripping with playful teasing.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as he quickly busied himself with the snack bowls, avoiding Derek’s gaze. “Something like that,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely loud enough for Derek to catch.

“Oh-ho, I knew it!” Derek grinned wider, sensing that he had hit a nerve. “You’ve got it bad, pretty boy. You got a crush on Y/N or what?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, and though his lips pressed into a thin line, he couldn’t hide the slight smile tugging at the corners. He didn't confirm anything outright, but the way his eyes darted around the room and his silence said more than words ever could.

“Aw, come on, Reid!” Derek grinned. “Do we need to set up a little coffee date for you two?”

He shot Derek a look, trying to maintain his composure. “Let’s just get back to the game, okay?” he said, his voice betraying just how flustered he was. If he kept this going, Spencer would have no choice but to tell them the truth.

Derek chuckled, patting Spencer on the shoulder as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. But don’t think we’re letting this go so easily.” He popped the tab with a grin, taking a sip as he headed back to the group.

Spencer sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed the snack bowls and carried them back to the living room. He caught your eye from across the room, and the knowing smile you gave him made his heart skip a beat. You both knew the truth, and for now, that was enough.

[imtryingbuck]

Pebbles

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Summary: you tell Nat something (great at summaries I know)

Word count: 842

Warnings: angst with fluff. mentions of cheating (readers ex) Nat being in love with reader. pregnancy. protective avengers. heavy use of pet names 

Translation: любит - loves (if wrong let me know please)

Masterlist

Running all the way to Nat’s room, managing to slip past everyone who tries to get a hold of you, concern filling their eyes.

All you need is Nat. Nat will make everything better, you was sure of it.

Knocking on the door to her room you bounce on your heels for her to hurry up and answer.

You was about to knock again when her door answered.

“Y-Y/n, what’s happened? Come here”

“I need to tell you something”

“Anything baby you know this”. She says as she moves the hair away from your face.

 "I know I could trust you so I came here." You say with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart you can, please finish what you were saying”. Nat’s heart breaks at the sight of your tears, wishing she could stop them from falling.

“Adam’s-“ Nat’s jaw clenched at the name of your ex who stupidly let go of the best thing he was ever going to have in his worthless life “new girlfriend messaged me saying that her and him were sleeping together for two months before I walked in on them, an-and she said its my fault that they keep arguing. Natty I’ve n-not done anythi-anything wr-wr-wr-“

“Baby breathe, oh Y/n breathe with me” Even with her green eyes focused on your trembling body she could see your twos friends at the door. She could feel the anger coming from them.

They’ve known you for as long as they’ve known Pepper, her being your auntie who’s raised you since you were a kid, introduced you to everyone. Straight away after Nat met you she had a crush and everyone knew it, even Pepper. She was devastated when she found out you had a boyfriend. 

“I-I’m so-sorry Natty”

“No printsessa don’t apologise, its not your fault”

“Sh-she said he knows about Pebbles b-but Natty she called Pebble a bast-“

“It’s okay baby, it’s going to be alri-“

“What if he tries to take Pebble away from us?”

She smirked, silently daring him to take their Pebbles away from them. Just so she could finally do what she promised you she wouldn’t do.

Natasha had found you crying in your room that Tony had given you for whenever you wanted to stay at the tower. You told her that you had walked in on Adam having sex with a woman in your bed, and then you dropped another bomb on her. You was pregnant. You had found out a week before, you hadn’t gotten around to tell him as you was still working on the gift you was going to give him.

Angry Nat scared a lot of people, Nat on a war path? terrified everyone including the Avengers.

Her heart and mind were at loggerheads with what you had just told her. Her heart told her hold you tight and reassure you everything was going to be okay. Her mind went straight to murder.

Reluctantly she listened to her heart, holding you long after you pasted out. Whispering promises that she’ll help you raise the baby.

It had been two months since she gained the courage to ask you out, and as the weeks go by during your pregnancy she reminds you that she’s here and she’s never leaving her любит. 

Everyone closest to you didn’t bat an eye or care that she was willing to help you raise a baby that wasn’t biologically hers because to them Pebbles - the name given by Morgan - was Natasha’s, no matter what.

And if your ex wanted to try and take the baby it would be the most dumbest thing he would ever do. They will protect their family at all cost.

“He’s not going to angel I promise!” Nat says as she holds you tighter.

“He’ll have to get through all of us first sweet girl” Tony says as he comes in to the room, followed by the rest.

“When did she send you the messages Y/n/n?” Wanda questions.

Pulling away from Nat you looked down at your small bump “two weeks ago-I’m so sorry Natty”

“It’s okay, but why didn’t you tell me love?”

“I thought I could handle it myself, i didn’t reply to anything she said thinking she would just leave me alone but she won’t” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, causing Nat to pull your hand away.

“You’re so tired aren’t you?” She watches as you nod, yawing at the same time “come, let’s get you into bed okay baby?”

“B-but his girlf-“

“I’ll deal with it, I promise. Now please sleep. I love you”.

“I love you too Natty” you mumble and as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re in dreamland.

Nat kept her promise by dealing with your exes girlfriend, no more messages were sent to you and Adam didn’t try and take Pebbles away.

Giving birth to a healthy baby girl, Nat continued to keep her promise by sticking by you.

Alisa Pebbles Romanoff was truly spoilt by both of her mamas.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

There's a 100% Chance I'm Gonna Marry You | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The team doesn’t even know of her existence but when Spencer can’t get a hold of her, he gets worried. Now he has no other choice than to tell his coworker about her.

Warnings: worry, guns, kicking down doors, mention of Maeve & Haley's death, fluff!

Author's note: I kinda love this like a lot???

Words: 3.4K

Spencer was happy. Considering the things he had gone through in the past ten years, no one had expected him to ever come back to his incredibly happy and constantly smiley self. No one had ever seen him so giggly and teasing his colleagues every single day. 

If you asked his coworkers, all of them would say something different. JJ, Alex and Penelope all swore he was simply in love. Hotch and Rossi knew what was happening – years of profiling in their back pocket that would catch onto the tiniest signs and being his boss had its perks. Morgan believed he was just getting laid, finally. 

If you asked Spencer, he’d simply shrug and say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

The truth was that he was in love, just like his female coworkers had guessed. 

He had met her a few years earlier at a bookstore. The two of them had reached for the exact same book at the exact same time, causing their hands to bump. Apologies floated through the air, followed by their awkward giggles when their eyes locked. Spencer offered to buy her the book that day and she insisted they read it together over a cup of coffee. Of course he didn’t decline, and neither did he alert her that he read as fast as lightning. For her, he’d read at her pace. 

Ever since that day, the two of them had been hanging out non-stop at bookstores, coffee shops, and eventually at each other’s apartment. It took them a good six months before finally sharing a searing kiss that sealed their relationship. 

That kiss was about a little over a year ago and now, the two of them were living together. Albeit, she kept her old address, with the help of Hotch who had called in favor, just to throw anyone that snooped into their personal affairs off. 

Without any of his colleagues knowing. 

At first, he didn’t want their relentless teasing, but then he was reminded of how the BAU’s family and partners were put in constant danger over being even slightly connected to them. Spencer almost wanted to break up with her over it, just to keep her safe. And they did, for a good week, until Spencer realized he couldn’t live without her. 

She was fine with being his little secret. Though sometimes, she wanted to get to know his colleagues after all the stories she heard from him. The gruesome details about those stories, however, she’d rather forget immediately. 

That was why the two of them kept in touch as much as they could during his cases. Quick phone calls, just to check in with one another, constant text messages, … There was never a moment where the two of them didn’t hear from one another. 

When one day she didn’t answer him, he grew immediately worried. 

That day had started early for Spencer. He'd been woken up at five am by a call from JJ, telling him to come into work as soon as he could, but not to bring a go-bag. Her eyes had fluttered open ever so slightly, but he shushed her and kissed her forehead. 

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered and tried to pull away, but her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him back. 

The girl whined and though her eyes were closed, her lips were pursed. “Gimme kiss first.” 

Chuckling, Spencer leaned down and kissed her on the lips sweetly. “I love you.”

“Mmh, love you too. Come back to me in one piece, Doctor Reid.” 

She tugged at the duvet to cozy up and doze off again. For a couple seconds, he watched her with a tender smile plastered on his face. He hated leaving the girl he loved behind. He’d much rather cuddle up to her underneath the covers. 

“I promise,” he whispered and kissed her head again before finally turning on his heel and walking out the apartment. It was always with a heavy heart that he left the apartment, but his mind was quickly occupied by the case at hand. 

It wasn’t until 10am when he received a text from her. The initials “L.G.” flashing onto his screen. It was her contact name that she had added. It stood for Lover Girl, she had told him, while putting his contact name as P.B.; Pretty Boy. 

L.G.: I actually slept until now. Got any statistics on that, Doctor? 

A smile took over his entire face. She often asked him for any statistics about whatever she was thinking about. It was her favorite thing to do, listening to him ramble off facts and statistics, which was why she’d asked for it. Even if it was merely through text.

P.B.: 55% of people oversleep at least once a week and 75% of those have missed work. A little over 30% said they oversleep once a week and 24% do it multiple times a week.

He waited a minute, she usually answered within a couple minutes and he and Morgan were waiting for their colleagues to compile their theories anyway. When her message popped onto his screen, he couldn’t help but smile even wider. 

L.G.: You never disappoint. – Thank GOD for bank holidays. ;-) 

Spencer chuckled before starting to type up a response. 

P.B.: What are you up to today? 

Before her reply came in, their colleagues filed into the briefing room where he and Morgan resided. He quickly chucked his phone in his pocket and focused on what his coworkers were saying. It took a couple of minutes as they put their heads together and piece together some of the evidence they had found. 

“Morgan, Reid, I’m gonna need you to go to the apartment building and ask around if anyone has seen Peter in the hallways that night. Alex and Rossi, you’re on the new crime scene. JJ and I will head to the M.E.”

Everyone nodded at their assignments before they got up and filed out of the briefing room. As Spencer followed Morgan out to the SUV, he grabbed his phone to check her message she had sent. 

L.G.: Just going to run some errands. Do you need anything from the grocery store? 

P.B.: Can you get me some of those rice crispy treats, please, angel? 

He put his phone back in his pocket before turning to his coworker next to him, who was sneaking glances at him whilst driving. “I do still wonder who you’re always texting with that dopey smile on your face.” 

Spencer coughed. “My-my mom.” 

“Are you ever gonna tell me the truth?” Derek asked, his thick brows raised. There was no answer at the top of that genius brain of his, so he simply grimaced and nodded his head. 

The two of them focused back on the case and went door to door at the apartment building, asking everyone if they had seen who they were looking for. None of them were much help and when they were done interviewing the inhabitants, one hour had passed. On the way back to the car, Spencer checked his phone again, but no messages from his Lover Girl this time. 

He frowned and sent her another text. 

P.B.: Back from the store yet, L.G.? Did you remember my rice crispy treats? 

It wasn’t usual for her to take this long to reply, especially when she had a day off. Her phone’s sound was always on and she had it closeby at every moment. Worry settled on his chest. He couldn’t act on the anxieties swirling around in his mind as he couldn’t just rush home mid-case. 

When there was no answer another hour later, Spencer knew something was up. He tried to call her when he and Morgan were waiting on the rest of the team to regroup, but it went straight to voicemail. 

“Hiya! You just missed me, but leave a message and I’ll call you back when I can.” 

The sound of her voice calmed him down a little bit, but the fact that it was her voicemail only made his worry grow. Two steps forward and one step back, it felt like. 

“You okay, Reid?” Morgan asked when he noticed his coworker in distress. 

Spencer internally groaned at the fact he couldn’t tell Morgan what was stressing him out because he had decided to keep his girlfriend a secret. Especially at a moment like this when there could be something wrong with her. For all he knew, she could be hurt. The exact reason for keeping her a secret in the first place.

“Uhm, yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

It was crystal clear that Morgan didn’t believe his coworker but with the height of the case nearing, he decided not to press any further. It was only hours later, when they closed the case, and Spencer was clearly spiraling that he decided to ask further. 

“Reid, seriously, what’s going on?” he asked when Spencer hung up his phone for a fifth time, not getting the answer he wanted. 

Spencer sighed and chucked his phone in his pocket, his hands trembling as he did so. “I-I need to go home. Something’s wrong.” 

“With your mom?” Morgan asked as he watched Spencer rush out the BAU. The resident genius didn’t even bother to answer, which left Morgan with no other choice than to simply follow behind him. “Hey, Reid!” he called when he caught up to Spencer near the SUV. With furrowed brows and trembling hands trying to unlock the car, the younger man looked up. “Let me drive.” 

And with that said, Derek and Spencer got into the car and drove off to Spencer’s apartment. Derek wasn’t even sure what he was in for, but he trusted Spencer enough to follow him blindly. The two of them entered Spencer’s apartment building and rushed up the stairs to apartment 23.

A scream echoed through the door and reverberated in Spencer’s chest, causing his heart to plummet to his stomach. Derek and Spencer both reached for their guns, ready to shoot whoever’s hurting this screaming person. Another scream came from inside and Derek quickly and swiftly kicked down the apartment door. 

Another scream, but this time because of the sudden disruption. Once Spencer was certain there was no immediate danger, he holstered his weapon, as did Derek. His eyes scanned over his girlfriend. She had her hair scraped back into a messy bun, an old CalTech shirt of his that reached just beneath her bum and underneath it the tiniest of shorts that were barely visible. 

Once her heart had calmed down from the near-heart attack, she tugged the earphones out of her ears. “Fucking hell, Spence, way to give a girl a heart attack.” She threw a cushion from the couch at him. 

“Me?! You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts! I thought you were kidnapped,” he argued before stalking up to her and taking her into his arms into a much-needed hug. 

She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m sorry, I was too wrapped up in that new Taylor Swift song and singing along.”

“Ah, that was the screaming about,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle.  

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Spencer whispered and kissed her head before remembering there was someone else in the room. Coughing, he looked up at his coworker and only slightly let go of her, keeping an arm around her shoulders. 

“So, you’re ready to tell me the truth now?” Derek asked, a smirk on his face. 

Spencer smiled down at the girl. “Morgan, this is y/n, my… girlfriend.” 

The girl reached out a hand for him to shake and Derek did, but not without eyeing her up and keeping that teasing demeanor. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Spence has told me so much about you.” 

“Wish I could say the same about you, but unfortunately, Boy Wonder never mentioned you once,” he told her, chuckling. “How did you keep this a secret from all of us?” 

Spencer shrugged. “I thought it would be better to keep our relationship a secret from everyone to keep her safe. We all know what happened to Haley, I don’t–” He inhaled sharply, unable to get the words across his lips. Noticing his sudden tensed shoulders, she interlaced her fingers with the ones on the hand on her shoulder, squeezing them reassuringly. “She kept her old address, just so no one could trace her back to me. Only Hotch and Rossi know.” 

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” she told him, gesturing to her appearance. 

“Shut up, you look cute,” Spencer reassured her and kissed her temple again. 

The smile never left Derek’s face as he looked at the sight in front of him. “I’m happy for you, Reid, you know that, right?” he asked happily, a hint of pride in his tone that caused her insides to grow mushy. 

From Spencer’s stories, she could tell the team cared about him a lot, but hearing it in real life and seeing it in Derek’s eyes and face meant the absolute world to her. She knew he was safe whenever he was with them, she knew she didn’t have to worry too much when he was out at work. They would protect him no matter what. 

Sensing Derek wanted to talk to Spencer alone, she excused herself and removed herself to the bedroom where she looked for something more appropriate to change into. All while keeping an ear on the conversation between the two coworkers. 

“I know,” she heard Spencer mumble. “I’m just scared, you know? She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t want that to be taken away from me… again…” Heat crept to her cheeks as she listened to her boyfriend talk about her. 

“I get that,” Derek said. “She’s important to you – she’s family. Family of yours is family of ours, Reid. You don’t want anything to happen to her, and neither do we. We’d do anything in our power to protect her.” 

“Like we did Haley and Maeve?” 

She knew all about Maeve and Haley. Spencer had explained everything to her. It scared her to death that something like that could happen to the family of the BAU agents as much as it scared her something terrible could happen to Spencer. 

“You know that was out of our control, Reid,” said Morgan. 

A short silence fell and she knew Spencer inhaled deeply before continuing. “I know, but what if the same thing happens to her? I can’t lose her, Morgan. I wanna keep her safe, out of harm’s way.” 

“Don’t you think your best shot at keeping her safe is to have us informed about it? At least then, we can keep her safe and help you protect her,” he explained and she couldn’t help but agree with her. With her heart a little heavier and her outfit changed into jeans and a top with her hair down, she walked out into the living room. 

“He’s right though, baby,” she mumbled, capturing the boys’ attention. 

Spencer sighed, “Y/N.” He shook his head. 

“Don’t “y/n” me, Spencer. Your little family sounds amazing and I wanna be part of that, too.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her head against his chest. “I know you wanna protect me, but don’t you think we both got a better chance if we got them in our lives, too?” 

Another sigh heaved Spencer’s chest, causing her head to move along with it. “Okay, you’re probably right.” He kissed the top of her head before looking at Morgan again. “Text everyone to come over here for dinner.”

“We don’t have enough food for that many people, honey,” she gasped, almost in a panic. 

Spencer shrugged. “We’ll order Chinese.” 

Within half an hour, the entire team had arrived at Spencer’s, one by one getting acquainted with the one he had kept secret for so long. Neither one knew why they were invited to apartment 23 but when they did find out, their reactions melted y/n’s heart. 

First, it was Penelope. The chirpy, colorful blonde she had heard so much about. 

“What’s the emergency? Are you okay, Reid? I–” she stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on the girl beside the resident genius. “Who–Wha–” she stumbled over her words, her brain short-circuiting. 

With a smile, she reached out her hand to shake Penelope’s. “Hi, I’m y/n.” 

“Reid’s girlfriend,” the brunette that had come up behind her moments after, deducted. 

Penelope’s eyes widened before taking the girl into her arms. “Oh, my God! I knew it! I knew our Boy Wonder was in love!” 

Giggles filled up the apartment. Spencer and y/n couldn’t help but lock eyes, happy this was the reaction from his coworkers to his news. “Happy to meet you, too, Penelope.” 

“Hi,” the brunette greeted when Penelope pulled away. “I’m Alex Blake.” 

One by one, the team filed in, greeting y/n as though she was part of the family. With Chinese food scattered around the dining room table, the whole family sat, ate and asked the couple all the questions they needed answers to. 

“When did you first meet?” The blonde y/n has come to be known as JJ. 

Y/N glanced over to Spencer and took a hold of his hand, entwining their fingers in his lap. “We met at a bookstore, we were reaching for the same book–”

“Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver,” Spencer interrupted. 

“That one,” she concurred with a giggle. “He insisted on buying it for me and I insisted we read it together.” Her nose scrunched up while her lips pressed together, remembering how adorable Spencer was that day, and still was. 

“Damn, boy,” Derek commented. “Didn’t know you had game.” 

“What do you do?” Alex then questioned, moving on from their meet-cute. 

“I’m a primary school teacher,” she responded. “I try to mold and form these brilliant little minds to become something that somewhat resembles this genius’ mind.” She placed her free hand on Spencer’s head and lovingly squeezed. 

A collective bubble of laughter spread through the apartment, causing y/n’s heart to flutter. She loved being around Spencer’s friends. They were lovely and brought out the best in Spencer. While he always had his guard down when he was with her and showed her his soft side, his friends brought out a completely different side in him. A side she had seen before, but never with people other than her. 

For an entire night, the team asked the couple questions, told stories about Spencer even she didn’t know yet and she easily returned the favor. It turned out to be a lovely night that would be grafted into the couple’s minds for a long time. 

“I enjoyed spending time with your friends,” she told him when they were cuddled up in bed afterwards. 

As soon as they hit the mattress, their limbs entangled and her head ended up on his chest. While his hand trailed up and down her back, hers was drawing patterns on his chest. A position they had found themselves in almost every night. 

“Mmh,” he hummed. “They loved you.” 

She let out a giggle. “Of course they did.” 

A laugh rumbled Spencer’s chest, reverberating through her head. It was her favorite sound and feeling in the whole wide world. She lifted her head from his chest to properly look at him, finding him looking up at the ceiling. From this angle, she had a perfect view at his sharp jawline, his curls sticking out here and there, and his long lashes fluttering to keep himself awake. 

“Got any statistics, Doctor?” she then asked, putting her head back in place, right over his heart to hear it beat just for her. 

She could feel him turn his head to look at her. “About what?” he asked. 

“Anything,” she answered. 

He sighed. A content sigh, one where you could hear the smile in his breath. “There’s a hundred percent chance I’m gonna marry you,” he muttered and kissed the top of her head. 

A smile curved her lips upwards while her eyes slowly shut. Her body was completely relaxed, her heart fluttering in his presence. She could see their entire future flash before her eyes. Spencer getting down on one knee at the bookstore, her father walking her down the aisle while his friends and coworkers and his mom sat in the pews. She could see ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers. 

She could see forever with him. 

“There’s a hundred percent chance I’m gonna say yes.” 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeeee @unnowhatthisistbhh

Criminal Minds Taglist: 

@boimlers-gonna-boimm @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess 

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Making a Move

Summary: Spencer's been seeing someone new, and the last thing he wants is to mess this up

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word count: 1.8k

Hotch called a meeting over the phone, and the team is waiting for him and Rossi at the Roundtable. In the meantime, everyone else has made their stops at the coffee machine, Spencer included. He was having his second cup (the first one was from his apartment), but he didn’t need the team to know that. Although not as romantic as expected, his late night was worth the extra yawns and blurred vision. He’d rather the team not know about that too.

“What’s got you so tired, kid?”

Too late.

Morgan fiddles with a pen between his fingers. As he asks, his eyebrow arches; he’s ready for an answer. His question brings everyone’s eyes to him.

“Nothing,” Spencer says.

“Nothing?” He knows that’s not it. The pact to not profile each other basically ended before it started. “Cause this is the third time in the past two weeks you’ve come in here yawning like every ten seconds.”

“It’s nothing. Maybe I need more coffee.”

Garcia pokes her head up from behind her laptop. “You never have more than one cup of coffee at the office unless you really need it.” She’s still typing while looking at him. “You don’t even suggest it. Until now.” Typing halts, and Spencer sees the realization in her eyes. He knows he can’t stop the tide from coming. “Ooo, what’s his name?”

“It’s not a guy.” Spencer sips his coffee, sugar granules sliding over his tongue as he swallows.

“So it’s a girl.” Prentiss butts in with a smirk.

Spencer rubs his hand on his forehead.

“It is!” Garcia unleashes a squeal. “Okay, what’s her name?” Her magenta nails are out like a cat exposing its claws, and Spencer knows she’s prepared to start a free background check.

“He’s not going to tell us,” Prentiss says.

“What about her job? What does she do?”

A kindergarten teacher. “Not saying that either,” Spencer replies.

“Well, has anything happened between you two?” Morgan joins back in.

Just hello and goodbye hugs.

“Guys,” J.J. calls. She’s standing by the projector, remote in hand. “It’s Spence’s business. He’ll tell us when he wants to. Okay?” She uses her mom voice, and Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if the following words out of her mouth were, “If I hear another word about this, you’re all grounded.” It’s comforting, even though he knew she’d have his back.

Sighs of disappointment and protest around the table were not subtle, but they were as close to a verbal “okay” as she was getting. J.J. accepts it anyway and eventually takes a seat. Garcia leans over and asks about Hotch and Rossi, likely regarding where they could be. Spencer wonders the same thing; so they can get started.

And because Morgan keeps staring at him. He’s eager for Spencer to spill. He even leans over. “Seriously, kid, nothing?”

“I’m not afraid to tattle,” Spencer whispers back. He finds his book, The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He read it a couple days ago, yet opened a page and busied himself with the paperback. Morgan’s eyes are still staring. He’s not letting this go, even if this briefing led to the jet. Spencer makes the mistake of looking back at him for a moment, and he has no choice. He turned the page of his book and mumbled, “I want something to happen, though.” He bites his lips closed when the words finally leave them.

Spencer’s opened the door, welcoming Morgan and his sleazy smile. Something he — hell — that they’ve all seen and grown too familiar with at bars and clubs. “Alright, that’s what I like to hear.” He shakes Spencer’s bony shoulder. “My man.”

Spencer can’t help but grin, not in response, but because of last night. He was worried you’d consider him cheap or creepy for choosing to watch a movie at his apartment instead of the theater. He was hoping to make a move. Spencer thought you looked so cozy in your polka-dot sweater; he wished he could reach out and touch the material. It looked so soft. But all the mistakes he made might’ve ruined the chance for that.

“What’d you do?” Morgan whispers.

“I sat too far away at first. I tried moving closer but… I didn’t want to come off as weird. Then I excused myself to get some water, but then it still didn’t feel right and —”

“So you chickened out?”

“I didn’t chicken out.”

He chickened out.

“Okay, well, it’s good you’re not all over her. You’re giving her space and showing her respect. But Reid,” He ruffles his hair. Spencer smiles, and it’s the only thing that keeps J.J. from giving a lecture. “You’ve been on three dates. She likes you, man. She’s probably waiting.”

“But what if she —”

“She does. And you need to go in knowing that and display some confidence. When are you seeing her again?”

“Tonight. We’re getting ice cream.” Spencer tries to suppress his lips curling. It doesn’t work.

“See. Now let me give you some pointers.”

It’s been a while since Spencer’s built such a natural rapport with someone, especially someone in a field furthest away from the grim glimpses of humanity he sees.

He surprised you with a visit during your lunch last week. The vibrant colors in your wardrobe match your classroom. The walls covered in handmade decorations and class-made crafts are a refreshing difference from the dark basements and fluorescent-lit interrogation rooms. The light in your eyes when discussing your students is something Spencer doesn’t get to see often, and he didn’t want to lose it by moving too fast.

Displaying confidence was something that came naturally to Morgan. “Displaying” didn’t feel honest, Spencer thought,  more like a front. Then again, that’s what all displays really were. Spencer’s only known how to be himself. Morgan does have a point, though. He’s already been on three dates. So being himself has worked so far. But he’s sure he needs a little more.

On the walk to the agreed-upon spot, Spencer grips the strap of his satchel as he trudges uphill. It helps him burn off the nervous energy as he gets closer. But when he sees you sitting at one of the outdoor tables, he’s reminded again why he should be. You’re wearing a flowy yellow dress and white tennis shoes. The one difference from last night is the ends of your hair, brunette roots leading to dark pink ends.

You stand up and start walking toward him, beaming already. “Hey!” Your arms are already out, and you hug. Spencer notes you smell like coconut.

“Hey, you,” He tries to make it sound natural. His hand lingers at your waist for a second. “Your hair,” That same hand touches the ends. “It’s pretty.” He smiles, taking in your individuality. He thinks about how much you and Garcia would get along.

“Thank you,” your brightness radiates as you giggle. “It’s the most I can get away with at school, so I figured I might as well push the limits while I can. Plus, the kids love it.”

Spencer’s brain immediately goes to statistics about school dress codes and how they likely change the following year. He holds back. Morgan’s taught him that sharing statistics can apparently kill the mood. He even reminded him before Spencer left (early). “I’m sure they do.”

Your eyebrows quirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, doll, I’m fine.” He tries again, but it’s taking everything for him not to cringe in front of you.

“No, you’re acting weird.” You cross your arms.

“Am I?” Spencer’s chest tightens.

“Oh yeah.” You snicker. “What’s up? Tell me about it.”

Spencer doesn’t exactly know how to say, “I really like you but I’m terrified of messing this up so I’m attempting to put on a terrible impression of a macho man because I want to kiss you and I feel like being myself isn’t going to get me anywhere” in a form that’s going to sound coherent and not like a crazy ramble that ends in you running away. So he doesn’t say it at all.

“Spencer,” You reach out to hold his hand. “You can tell me.”

“I…” He feels like he’ll stumble over his words before he gets a sentence out. He looks at you, and your grip tightens a little. He returns the gesture. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Mess what up exactly?”

“Well, this.” He moves his hand where his thumb is on top. “I like you a lot.”

“Oh, well, I like you too!” You say. “We’re on the same page there. So how could you mess this up?”

“Because I don’t know how to make the first move. I don’t want to push you.” The wind blows, and both of you push hair out of your faces, and Spencer tries not to lose his thoughts. “I even let one of my coworkers give me pointers on how to be… smoother.”

You try hard not to laugh, but it slips out, and the insecurity on Spencer’s face spreads. “Is this the one you told me about? Dirk Morgan?”

“Derek Morgan. But, yeah, him.”

“Okay, Doctor,” You step closer, and now both your hands lead up to his biceps. Spencer cautiously moves his hands to your waist. He’s hesitant about public displays of affection, but you started it, and he won’t be the one to end it so soon.  “I’m going to bring you into my field for a minute. I’m assigning you a pop quiz.”

Spencer’s mouth quirks a little, wondering where this is going.

“I have no doubt you’ll ace it.”

“I’m usually good at acing things. Exams, tests, quizzes.”

“Good. It’s one question: am I dating Derek Morgan?” Your thumbs glided back and forth against his cardigan.

“Are we dating?”

“We’ve been on dates. Therefore: dating.”

“Then, no, you are not dating Derek Morgan.”

“Congratulations, Dr. Reid, you got a 100.” You push yourself up on your toes to kiss him gently. You both pause for a moment. His hands trail to your back as yours glide to hang on his neck. His breath is extra minty for six in the evening, and it made you realize that was the move he wanted to make. “Feel better? Now that that’s out of the way?”

Spencer leans in to kiss you again. His response is clear when he pulls you in to make it deeper, but still innocent. When you open your eyes, you can see the weight that’s been lifted, a weight you lifted.

“Next time you feel like making a move, you’re more than welcome to go for it. Okay? You have my permission to go for it.”

“What if I don’t know your boundaries?”

“Just ask.” You put your feet flat on the ground, but other than that, neither of you moves or shifts eye contact. “Spencer, I like you the way you are. You don’t need some sort of smooth rhetoric to make me fall further for you.”

Spencer, once again, fails to hide the smirk as it grows. “You’ve… fallen for me?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” He says quickly. “It’s more than okay.”

Thank you for all the love from the last fic. I'm glad so many of you liked it 🥹 For anyone curious, I don't have a schedule. I just write and upload when I have something. I'm focusing on getting back into writing so feel free to send oneshot ideas if you have any. Thanks again 🩵

“Good. Now let’s get ice cream.”

[maximoffcarter]

Is it over?

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x reader.

Summary: Set on 6x18: Lauren. If the team noticed Emily acting weird, they didn’t say anything about it. For the last two weeks, Emily had been acting strange, kind of off which was weird about Emily. Reader was the lucky person who could say that she knew Emily more than anyone else in the team, but this time...she was not sure about it anymore.

A/n: So...just like when I asked when I posted my first Calex fic; is my blog gonna turn into Marvel, SVU and Criminal Minds? Maybe so🫢 I'm obsessed with criminal minds right now (yes, a bit late, I've seen some of it before but I've always been an svu girly) and I am deeply in love with Emily (not new that I found Paget Brewster gorgeous😮‍💨). Anywayyyy, first Emily fic✨ Yes…I’ll be taking requests🫢 I dunno if some things are accurate or not so bear with me but hope you enjoy this, leave comments, hearts, whatever you like and reblog so this gets some love🫶🏻

Part 2.

*not my gif*

If the team noticed Emily acting weird, they didn’t say anything about it. For the last two weeks, Emily had been acting strange, kind of off which was weird about Emily. Every once in a while, she’d crack a joke or even make fun of Morgan or Reid or anyone on the team, but nothing had been done. The cases they’ve had had been a bit of a pain, which could possibly be the reason why Emily had been acting so weird. Garcia was the first one to really say something to Emily, she had been teasing and trying to get information in case she had a secret boyfriend for the times she had been late to work, but Emily had stopped her from keep going and they just forgot about it for that moment. Reid then had asked her if she was okay and Emily had said that she was, even if she had started picking on her nails again and it was something that Reid had noticed she did when she was stressed, but again, Emily brushed it off.

The only person who could truly see Emily off work was Agent Y/n Carter, the one person that was the closest to Emily, who had always been there with Emily and for Emily, the one person that could really say that she knew more about Emily than anyone in the BAU. What they didn’t know is that y/n was not only the closest person to Emily in a friendly way, but they had been dating for the last year. No, it’s not that they didn’t trust the team, they loved them, they would do anything for them, but if they said anything about their relationship, which meant that there was a chance that they could be used against each other in case they got threatened or were hostages -which of course they hoped it never happened-. But they still wanted to keep the secret to themselves for as long as possible, and either way, they were able to enjoy it and have a relationship for them and only them.

“Hey, P! Leaving now, you need a ride?” Y/n walked to Penelope’s room and offered a smile.

“Ah, no sweet cheeks. Car is fixed, I’m driving myself now.” Penelope smiled as she grabbed her things.

Y/n nodded. “See you tomorrow then.” She was about to leave before she was stopped by Penelope’s voice.

“Hey honey?” Penelope asked softly.

Y/n turned to look at her and smiled. “Yeah?”

“Have you uh…have you talked to Emily?”

Y/n furrowed her brows as she stared at Penelope. “Uh…I mean…she was mostly with Morgan in the case so…not really. Why? Something wrong?” She tilted her head as she walked back to Penelope.

“I just…I’ve noticed that she’s been acting a bit odd.” Penelope shrugged. “I even asked her if she was preggo.” She chuckled.

Y/n chuckled softly as she shook her head. “Do we even know if she’s got a boyfriend?”

 “Well, she brushed it off when I mentioned it, but…you know…she’s been late these past few days and that’s not common of her.”

Y/n nodded softly and offered a smile. “I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow when I see her. But I’m sure she’s okay, P. Just…maybe stressed.”

Penelope nodded and smiled. “She trusts you more than she trusts anyone here, honey. I’m sure she’ll let you know if somethings going on.”

“I know.” Y/n smiled. “Night love.”

“Goodnight pretty girl!”

Y/n walked to the elevator and sighed softly as the doors closed. They had been busy with the last few cases that she hadn’t really paid any attention to Emily’s attitude or behaviour, which now that she thought about it, was really wrong of her, and she felt bad about it. As she got in her car, she decided to make a few stops before she stopped by Emily’s apartment. The whole ride, she thought of what exactly she was going to tell Emily, because she knew better than to get to her and be all like ‘oh you’ve been acting weird so I thought I could come and figure out what’s wrong with you’. As much as Emily loved y/n, Emily was not exactly an open book. She finally got to Emily’s apartment and decided it was better to use her key instead of knocking on the door. She walked inside the apartment and was greeted by Sergio, she closed the door softly and as she turned, she found Emily walking out of her room with her gun in hand.

“Woah, Em! It’s me!” Y/n raised her hands as she looked at Emily.

Emily sighed heavily as she put her fun on the back of her jeans and walked to y/n. “What are you doing here?”

Y/n cleared her throat. “Uh…” she looked down at her hands and had a bag of desserts and in the other hand, she had flowers. “I uh…well…I’ve noticed that you haven’t been yourself, I thought you were tired and exhausted, so I decided to…bring something.” She offered a shy smile as she looked at Emily.

Emily’s heart warmed as she stared at y/n, smiling softly as she walked to her, grabbing the flowers, and smelling them. “They smell wonderful.” She looked up at y/n and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” Y/n leaned in and pecked her lips softly. “I also brought your favorite.” She smiled.

Emily chuckled softly as she nodded. “Thank you.” She walked to the kitchen and took a deep breath. She grabbed a vase to put the flowers in and filled it with water. She hated that she had to tell y/n that she couldn’t stay, all she wanted was to be held and to have y/n with her, but she couldn’t put her at risk.

The thing was her nemesis was in the city. Just a few hours ago, she had met with the person she never thought she’d ever see again, the person that she had left in her past and that had been nothing but another case for her. Ian Doyle was looking for her, and she had now put everyone at risk, and the last thing she needed, was for Ian to find out that y/n was more than just a friend and a colleague, he had no idea about her, he thought that the most important thing for Emily was her life, and the team was her family, so in a way, y/n was still very much at risk, but at least he had no idea that she was more than just a friend.

Emily walked back to the dining room and smiled at y/n. “I’m sorry…I hate to do this but I just…” she sighed. “I think I’m getting that flu that Garcia’s been talking about.” She huffed a chuckle as she stared at y/n.

Y/n tilted her head as she pouted. “So you want me to go?”

Emily smiled sadly. “I’m afraid you’ll catch it, and it’ll be a fun thing to explain to the rest of the team why we both have it.” She grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and nodded. “I guess you’re right.” She sighed as she stared at Emily, walking to her. “Em…are you okay?”

“I am.” Emily smiled.

Y/n squinted her eyes and raised her brow. “You’re not getting tired of me, are you?”

Emily felt her heart sinking as she stared at her girlfriend. She smiled softly and walked to her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, and resting her forehead against hers. “I love you too much to do that.” She whispered softly as she smiled.

Y/n smiled widely as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I love you too.” She furrowed her brows. “You’re really getting sick, Prentiss. You’d have joked about it.”

Emily shrugged. “I also like to tell you that I love you, because I really do.” She smiled softly, leaning in, and kissing her lips softly.

Y/n smiled against her lips and held her as close as possible. “Thought you didn’t want to give me the flu.” She whispered against her lips once they pulled away.

“A kiss won’t hurt.” Emily chuckled softly as she looked at y/n. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Y/n nodded. “Sure will.” She smiled. “Save me my dessert, I’ll come eat it when you feel better.” She grinned as she walked to the door, she petted Sergio before she finally left.

Emily sighed again and felt her eyes getting watery. She hated that she had to do this, she hated that she was pushing the one person she trusted with her whole heart…but again…that sounded pretty hypocrite since y/n had no idea about her past with Ian Doyle. No one could know. She preferred to lie about it than put them more at risk.

********************

Y/n stretched as she got up from bed and yawned. After the exhausting days that they’ve had at the BAU, she had returned home and gotten herself in bed, trying to get herself to get some rest before whatever event was going to happen the next day. But right at two am, there had been a knock on her door, which woke her from her beauty sleep. She walked to the door and looked into the small hole, furrowing her brows as she noticed Emily standing right in front of the door. She opened the door and smiled sleepily.

“You lost your key again?” Y/n raised her brows as she stared at Emily.

Emily smiled softly. “I forgot it at home.”

Y/n nodded. “And you forgot your keys too?”

“I just wanted to see you.” Emily said softly.

Y/n furrowed her brows but said nothing, grabbing Emily’s hand and pulling her inside the apartment, closing the door behind her. “What’s going on, Em?” She said softly.

Emily took a deep breath as she shook her head. “I’ve just been having a hard time sleeping.”

“Then stay here with me.”

“I can’t.” Emily sighed softly. “Sergio…he’s been a pain in the ass. He hates that I leave him alone.”

Y/n grinned softly. “I’m gonna start to be jealous of him, getting all your attention.”

Emily rolled her eyes playfully. She then cupped y/n’s face in her hands, bringing their lips into a sweet and tender kiss. Emily could feel her eyes getting teary, but she stayed close to y/n and kept kissing her softly. Y/n wrapped her arms around Emily, her hands going up and down her back, her fingertips delicately touching her as she kissed Emily back. Even if Emily had this tough, bad girl persona, everyone knew that Emily had a soft spot because she was also a complete nerd, and y/n was lucky enough to say that she was able to experience it. They both pulled away slowly, resting their foreheads against each other’s, smiling softly.

“You know I love you, right?” Emily said softly, smiling at y/n.

“I know.” Y/n pulled away to look into her beautiful brown eyes as she nodded. “And I love you. A lot.” She whispered softly as she kissed her nose softly.

Emily smiled as she ran her fingers through her hair. “This whole stress will end soon.”

Y/n furrowed her brows slightly but nodded. “It will. Maybe you should consider what Rossi said about taking a vacation.” She grinned softly.

Emily chuckled softly as she nodded. “Go somewhere far away from here, no cellphones or technology…just us.”

“Well, he meant only for you.” Y/n teased.

“But I’d take you with me.” Emily smiled lovingly as her other hand stroked her cheek. “I want you with me.”

“And I’ll always be here, Em.” Y/n smiled as she leaned in to kiss her lips again. “Always.”

Emily nodded softly as she kissed her lips again, smiling sadly. “Hey uh…” she reached on her pocket and smiled softly down at her hands. “I got you something.” She looked back at y/n.

Y/n furrowed her brows and tried to look at what Emily had in her hands. “What is it?” She grinned softly.

Emily smiled softly and then opened her hand to show y/n what she had in hands, raising her brow softly. “You always mention you like it.”

Y/n’s lips parted and soon after turned into a smile, looking back up at Emily. “Em…you…you wear this necklace more than anything.”

Emily chuckled softly as she grabbed the heraldic rose pendant and moved behind y/n. She moved y/n’s hair to the side and placed the necklace delicately. “You always mentioned how you liked it…loved it, actually. And I thought maybe you should have it.” She smiled softly as she leaned down to kiss her shoulder. “It’ll look better on you anyway.” She then moved back to face y/n.

Y/n looked down at it and smiled softly. “I do love it.” She looked back at Emily as she held it. “Em-“

“Consider it an early birthday gift.” Emily grinned.

“Still two months to go, though.” Y/n raised her brow as she grinned.

“I like spoiling you, and you know it.” Emily smiled as she wrapped her arms around her and kissed her lips softly. “I gotta go, it’s late.” She whispered softly as she stared at her.

“And Sergio is gonna kill you.” Y/n grinned playfully.

Emily chuckled as she nodded. “Yes.” She looked into y/n’s eyes and smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Y/n smiled.

Y/n stared at her until Emily closed the door and then she was gone, her hands still in the necklace. She sighed softly as she locked the door, her mind spinning as thoughts started to cloud her whole mind. There was something going on, but y/n couldn’t figure out what it was. Emily was definitely not herself, but if she pushed, Emily would only brush it off and she’d say nothing was going on, but the more she focused on Emily, the more worried she was about her. But she was right, this would soon end, and they would be able to go back to their lives.

********************

The whole time they were at the BAU, y/n kept an eye on Emily, trying to focus on what Hotch and the rest of the team was saying about this whole case, but she couldn’t help but see every move that Emily made. She was quieter than usual, which was not normal of her, she always had so much to say about the cases, y/n always found Emily being the best profiler in the team, of course they had their own thing, and she didn’t just think about it because she was her girlfriend, but she truly admired Emily so much, it surprised her when Emily gave her attention and actually wanted to be with her, even with the slight age difference, Emily still had her eyes on y/n. So yes, y/n knew Emily better than anyone in that room, but lately, it seemed like what she knew meant nothing.

Once Emily and Derek were back, y/n couldn’t help but keep her eyes on Emily, but this time, her full attention was on her. Every reaction, every movement, every facial expression, she was trying to get anything she could. As they continued to talk about the case, y/n noticed the way Emily became more tense about it and the way she kept fidgeting with her hands. Before anything else could happen, once the team was a bit more distracted, y/n pulled Emily with her and pulled them inside the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” Emily asked, brows furrowed as she stared at y/n.

Y/n crossed her arms as she looked at Emily. “What is going on, Emily?”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t-“

“You do know.” Y/n said, trying not to sound upset or worried. “Emily, I can see the way you’re acting. You never get to work late, even when we have spent the night together. You have barely eaten anything, you’ve barely been sleeping, I can notice. You haven’t been yourself, Em.”

“Baby…I don’t really wanna talk about it.” Emily rubbed her hand on her face as she looked down at the floor.

Y/n shook her head. “I know you don’t. But Emily…you’re not okay. I can tell. I’m here, why won’t you talk to me?” She walked close to Emily and placed her hands on her shoulders, sliding them down to grab her hands. “Please. I’m worried about you, Em.” She whispered softly.

Emily shook her head. “I just…” she sighed as she looked back at y/n. “…I’ve been having these nightmares, I’m exhausted. I want this to end. I need it to end.” She felt her eyes getting teary as her hands landed on y/n’s cheeks, stroking them softly. “I’ll be okay.”

Y/n shook her head as she sighed, wrapping her arms around Emily’s waist. “I’ll stop pushing…but Em, seriously…I’m here.” She looked into her eyes as she smiled. “Come to me. Talk to me.” She whispered softly.

Emily nodded as she leaned down to kiss her lips. “I love you.” She whispered softly against her lips.

Y/n smiled softly. “I love you too.” She kissed her nose softly and then her lips again.

Emily sighed as she pulled away and smiled softly. “We should get back.”

Y/n only nodded and then walked out of the bathroom with Emily, making sure that no one had seen them. As they went back with the rest, y/n still had her attention on Emily but said nothing more. As for Emily, she knew that sooner or later, y/n would figure out what was going on, the whole team would figure it out and there was nothing that would stop them, so she had to act fast. Things were only getting worse, more people were dying, and it was on Emily, and the thought of it was eating her alive. If she didn’t do anything now, he’d soon get to all of them. He’d get to y/n.

********************

Y/n furrowed her brows as she walked around the halls, looking around. After they had mentioned the profile of Ian Doyle, they had gathered around to make a plan and see where they could go next and that’s when she noticed that Emily was nowhere to be found. She saw her once she arrived back with Morgan, she had a worried look, her face had entirely changed and y/n was sure this had something to do with this whole thing, but if she pushed, she knew that she wouldn’t get anything anyway. Once Hotch dismissed everyone, that’s when she noticed she was gone. What was she doing?

“Guys, I cannot find Emily anywhere.” Y/n walked to them and stared at all of them. “What?”

Rossi sighed. “We believe Emily is involved with this case.”

Y/n furrowed her brows. “What?” She shook her head. “No…she would’ve said something. What do you mean involved?”

“Years ago, she was undercover. Weeks ago, she mentioned a name, Lauren Reynolds. Saying she was gone. I believe that was her undercover name.”

Y/n felt dizzy for a moment as she stared at them, not sure what was going on. Emily would’ve told her the truth, as much as she had wanted to protect them, she wouldn’t have lied to her. But she did…that’s why she had been acting weird, she had been pushing her away, she didn’t even let her stay at her apartment. That visit at two a.m., the necklace, Emily repeatedly telling her that she loved her…Emily was hiding it so y/n wouldn’t find out. Emily was a hopeless romantic, that was not a secret, but the way she had been acting, the way she had spoken to y/n…it all made sense now. She was trying to protect her, Ian was after them, and Emily was going to deal with this alone.

It was like her body was acting on its own once they moved to review the information JJ had. She didn’t even know when JJ had arrived, but she was there, she was there to help with the case. Y/n only sat there and tried to focus on everything about which they were talking. Emily had been undercover…she had been one of Ian’s lovers…his lover. She had been involved with him and she was one of the reasons he had ended up behind bars. She had never actually asked much about Emily’s past jobs, Emily always told her about her life, she knew the nerd she was, the silly movies she loved to watch, the books she read, she knew her routine in the morning and at night, what annoyed her and what she liked. She knew Emily. Right? She knew her, she just…didn’t know this part. Emily trusted her. Or maybe not.

“Carter…did you know about this?” Derek snapped as he looked back at y/n, making her snap out of her trance.

Y/n furrowed her brows as she stared at him. “W-What?”

“You’re the closest to Emily. You spend more time with her than with any of us. Did she tell you any of this?” Derek stood up and kept his eyes fixated on y/n.

“Derek…no. I had no idea…I-“

“Please.” Derek scoffed. “You always say it, you know more about Emily than any of us. Why should I believe that you didn’t know any of this?”

“Morgan.” Hotch warned as he stared at him.

“No!” Derek looked at everyone and then went back to y/n. “You and Emily have been hiding this from us for days. She’s now on the run and we have no idea where she could be. So enlighten us, Carter. Tell us where she is so this ends now.”

Y/n stood up from her seat, feeling anger growing in the pit of her stomach. “I have no idea…where she is, Morgan.” She felt her eyes getting teary as she stared at him. “I didn’t know anything about this. She never told me. Trust me, I’m not stupid. If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t be sitting here listening to your crap. I wouldn’t have let her leave. You were the last one with her, what did she tell you?”

“She said nothing. Because she doesn’t trust us. Apparently, you included.” Derek snapped.

“That’s enough.” Rossi said as he stared at both of them.

“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe that you’re not covering for Emily? You’re best friends. You two are literally glued to each other, and you want me to believe that you’re not hiding anything from us? Emily put you up to this, but this has to end now, Carter!” Derek yelled as he walked to Carter. “You’re the person she trusted the most, huh? If she’s your best friend, then you’ll tell us whe-“

“She was more than my best friend! I love her!” Y/n snapped as tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at Derek. She sobbed softly as she took a step back, feeling everyone’s eyes on her. She looked down at the floor as she shook her head. “We’ve…we’ve been dating for a whole year…we didn’t say anything because…we didn’t want anyone to use us against each other in case something went south on a case.” She said between sobs. “She didn’t tell me anything, Morgan.” She looked back up at him. “You’re right. Maybe she didn’t trust me. Maybe she just wanted to protect me. I don’t even know what to think. I don’t know what’s going on. So please…back off, and let’s focus on finding Emily.”

Everyone in the room said nothing more about the subject, Rossi and Morgan decided to go to Emily’s apartment and y/n went over her bag and handed them the key, staring at Morgan as she did and then leaving the room. She could’ve offered to go with them, she could’ve said that she would be the one going, but she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t want to leave, and she was now a bit afraid of what she might find there. She wasn’t upset…she wasn’t mad…at least not at the moment, she was just…confused.

********************

Y/n felt like she was numb at that point, only focusing on what they had to say about the case and following them around, barely saying anything. She was hoping that she’d wake up from this nightmare, that maybe, just maybe, everything was in her head, that she was actually asleep, and this would end soon. For a moment, she tried to go and clear her mind for a bit, deciding that Penelope could help at least a little bit, but as she walked to her office, she heard her talking and then she figured out what she was doing. She tried to swallow back her tears as she walked to her, offering a small as she turned on her chair.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Penelope said softly as she offered a small smile.

“Hi.” Y/n smiled softly and crossed her arms. “So…we figured out if Emily had a boyfriend, huh?” She chuckled softly.

Penelope nodded as she smiled. “I always thought you guys looked cute. I’m happy you’re actually a couple.”

Y/n smiled softly as she nodded. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Any luck with the phone numbers?”

Penelope shook her head. “No…I’ve left a message in all of them.”

Y/n nodded as she sighed. “Do you think I could uh…could you…give me at least one to try it out?”

Penelope smiled as she turned her chair and wrote down one of the phone numbers, and then turned to look at y/n, handing her the post it. “I just tried this one, is the last one I found.”

Y/n grabbed it and stared at it for a moment, smiling softly as she looked back at Penelope. “Thanks, P.” She nodded before she left.

Y/n looked around the hallway and noticed no one was there, so she for her phone out and dialed the number. She bit her lip softly as she waited, part of her hoping that she’d answer and the other part just waiting to be sent to voicemail. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she heard the voicemail tone. “Hey Em…it’s me, y/n. Uh…Penelope gave me this number, we’re not even sure if you have it anymore or not…” she huffed a chuckle. “…I don’t even know what to say. I just want you to know that…I love you. I won’t ever stop doing that.” She sniffled, biting her lip softly as she tried to swallow back her sobs. “Just come back, Emily…please. We can fix this together. I just need you back with me.” She let out sobs as she looked shook her head. “Come back to me.” She sighed as she ended the voicemail and closed her phone, putting it back in her pocket.

Emily sighed as she closed her eyes for a moment. She was exhausted, she was tired, she wanted this whole thing to end, and the worst thing about this, was that she had no idea how this would end. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she felt helpless but she knew she had a reason and purpose, she needed to put an end to this; he wasn’t going to win, not as long as Emily could stop him. She looked down at her phone and furrowed her brows as she noticed two voicemails. Her heart stopped for a second as she heard Penelope’s voice, her eyes getting teary. She hated so much that she was doing this to them, she knew maybe they’d hate her, but she was doing this for them.

She opened the last voicemail and she felt her heart sank, for a moment, her whole world had stopped. It was y/n. She was sure Penelope had given her the phone number. She closed her eyes as she felt l tears rolling down her cheeks. She never meant to hurt y/n like this, she never wanted to lie to her, she never meant to hide this from them, but she thought she’d be able to live with it and that nothing would ever happen, he’d stay in jail forever and no one in her life would know about it. But she was wrong. And she hated it. She wanted to drive back to her lover, hold her and kiss her, but she had to protect her, she had to protect her family.

“I love you…I’m sorry.” Emily whispered softly before she turned off her phone and took a deep breath.

********************

The whole ride to the Warehouse, y/n tried to keep her head clear, thinking that they would be able to find Emily and that this whole thing would finally end, that she’d be able to bring her home and both of them would work on this together. For a moment, as she heard more and more about Emily’s undercover and Ian, she felt herself getting angry at the whole situation. It was clear everyone was upset at the thought of Emily getting involved with someone like him, and she was not gonna lie, it upset her too, but then all she could think about was Emily; was she okay? Was she safe? Y/n knew Emily was a fighter, she could protect herself, but what if Ian had hurt her badly? She couldn’t help the negative thoughts that filled her mind. She grabbed onto her necklace and kissed it, trying to swallow back her tears. She flinched a bit as she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at Derek, who offered a small smile.

Y/n decided she’d go in with Derek, she followed them around and her heart started racing as she walked through the warehouse. For a moment, she tried to think that this was just another victim, she wanted to try to concentrate the best she could and not lose her posture. She could almost hear Strauss yelling at her for getting involved even though she knew she should’ve stayed behind. When the lights went out, she felt like she was in a nightmare, following Derek as she kept looking around us, making sure to not miss any door or room. At some point, Derek told y/n to go first to have her back, and just as she walked into the very end of the warehouse, her heart dropped at the sight of Emily on the floor…bleeding.

“Emily!” Y/n dropped to her knees and placed her gun on the floor. “Derek, call an ambulance!” She placed her hand on Emily’s and looked at her, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Emily? Em…please answer me. I’m here.” She said almost in a whisper.

Emily opened her eyes weakly and stared back at y/n. “Y/n?” She whispered weakly.

Y/n nodded and smiled through her tears. “Yes. It’s me. I’m here.” She placed her hand on Emily’s cheek, stroking it softly. “C’mon, baby. I need you to stay with me, help is coming.”

Emily’s breathing was weak, she tried to keep her eyes opened to look at her lover, but it was becoming harder. “Love…I’m…msorry.”

“Help! Please!” Y/n turned to look at Derek with tears in her eyes and then went back to Emily. “No, Em. I know why you did this. I love you, okay? I’m not mad, I’m not upset. I’m here. Just please, please stay with me. I need you, my love. Please.” She cried out as she leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Please, Em…”

“I…love you.” Emily breathed out and closed her eyes.

“Emily! Please! Hurry up!” Y/n looked down at her and sobbed. “Emily!”

The time stopped as y/n kept yelling Emily’s name, and as she felt Derek’s hands on her trying to pull her back, y/n kept yelling and trying to get away from Derek. The paramedics arrived and were all over Emily, y/n could only feel Derek’s arms wrapped around her trying to stop her from moving, and y/n could not do anything else than let herself cry and scream in Derek’s arms. This was not happening. This was not supposed to happen. At some point she felt Derek picking her up and helping her walk so they could follow the ambulance, y/n was sobbing uncontrollably so they didn’t let her go in the ambulance with her.

The whole way to the hospital seemed like a movie, y/n felt like she was not there, she was just numb, and she had gone completely quiet. She could feel JJ and Derek holding her, but she only sat there, her eyes glued to the ambulance in front of them. And then, as if she had transported, she was in the visitors lounge with the whole team. She didn’t know when or how they had all arrived there, even Penelope. She had sat down alone, only staring down at her hands as she fidgeted with her fingers. She thought that she had ran out of tears because none were coming out of her eyes, she could feel her head throbbing, her eyes were swollen and her whole body was trembling. If this is a nightmare, just wake up. Wake up now. She kept repeating in her head over and over again. In the corner of her eye, she saw a figure moving, making her turn her face to find JJ and she stood up rapidly to walk to JJ.

“JJ?” Y/n asked in a whisper as she walked to her. She furrowed her brows when she didn’t say anything. “JJ…say something.” She made a pause and shook her head as there was still silence coming from JJ.

“No…” Penelope whispered softly, her voice breaking.

���Say something!” Y/n’s bottom lip trembled as she sobbed quietly. “Please…”

“She never made it off the table.” JJ said softly, but rapidly, as if she had pushed herself from saying those words.

Y/n felt her like time stopped once again as JJ’s words kept replying in her mind. She could hear Penelope and Spencer crying, she could hear them in the background, but all she could do was sit back down, just staring into nothing as her mind processed JJ’s words. She felt someone touching her shoulder, but she couldn’t make up the words that were coming out of their mouth, her mind had shut down entirely and her body couldn’t react. At some point she felt something wet on her face and she processed in her mind that she was crying and then her mind registered where she was. She looked up and found Penelope by her side, wrapping her arms around her and that’s when she felt her whole body giving up and she started sobbing again, screaming loudly as Penelope tightened her grip on her. She was living in the nightmare.

********************

“I really wish you would’ve told me, Em…I could’ve probably helped you.” Y/n whispered softly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I miss you terribly.” She sobbed quietly.

“Y/n?” Derek asked softly as she stood beside her.

Y/n cleared her throat as she smiled sadly. “She gave me her necklace. The day before, she came to my apartment at two a.m. I guess she thought that…maybe if she went that late, maybe they wouldn’t be watching her or something.” She shrugged softly as she looked down at the grave. “She seemed so…worried but she was reassuring me that she was okay.” She huffed a chuckle. “I knew she was not, but I didn’t push. I let her have control. She kissed me and left.” She shook her head as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I should’ve pushed.”

“We know she wouldn’t have told you anything anyway.” Derek sighed. “She wanted to protect us. Protect you.”

Y/n nodded. “I hate her for that.” She shook her head. “I should be upset that she didn’t tell me anything, that she got involved with him.” She sighed. “But I’m upset that she let this happen and I couldn’t be there to save her.”

Derek nodded. “We did what we could.”

Y/n looked up at Derek as she cried. “Did we?” She cried out.

Derek stared at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead softly. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

“I forgive you.” Y/n whispered softly as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry too.”

Derek shook his head. “We’re good, princess. And I’m here.”

Y/n nodded. “I know. I’m here too.” She sighed as she let more tears roll down her cheeks.

“So…wanna tell me how it all began?” Derek grinned as he looked down at y/n.

Y/n huffed a chuckle as she wiped her tears. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I do too.”

Y/n turned to look at Penelope and smiled softly. “You’re still here.”

Penelope smiled through her tears. “I didn’t want to leave you, sweet cheeks.”

Y/n smiled as she extended her hand for Penelope to take it. She then looked back at the grave and smiled. “I think Emily would love for me to tell you guys about how it all started.” She nodded softly as she knelt down and sat on the grass, followed by Penelope and Derek.

[ddejavvu]

could you write abt Spencer and reader finding out theyre having twins? ♥️

Morgan was thrilled to have the privilege of knowing your baby's gender before you did. You hadn't been aware of your pregnancy for weeks, attributing the morning sickness to a stomach bug that your friend had passed to you and passing off the slight weight gain as bloating. But Spencer had been surprisingly busy at work these past few months, and when you eventually realized that the last unprotected sex you'd had was around the time you'd started noticing these symptoms, you were both pretty convinced that it was an unplanned pregnancy.

It was difficult waiting to look at the ultrasound photos, and covering your eyes while the doctor checked on the health of your sweet baby was the worst part. But you wanted to announce both the pregnancy and the gender at the same time to the rest of the BAU, and Morgan was the first person you'd thought of to reveal the news. He'd been more than happy - smug, even - to be the first one to see any evidence of the little life inside of you, and he'd walked out of the doctor's office with you beaming bright enough to rival the sun.

Now, only one day after your first ultrasound, you're sitting around a table in Rossi's backyard. You're not sure how Morgan got Rossi to lend out his mansion without telling him about your pregnancy, but you suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if one more person knew. Really, you're more looking to make Garcia squeal so loud she sets off the neighbor's dog.

"Alright, alright," Derek taps his spoon against his glass. Garcia's eyes shoot over to him and she nearly jumps out of her chair, and you wonder if Derek had teased a surprise to her yet.

"There's something Mr. and Mrs. Reid want to tell you," He gestures to you, and Spencer looks to you for an introduction to the topic.

"Do you remember when I got sick a few months ago?" You glance around the table, and faces wrinkle in concern. You suppose everyone is expecting a horrible diagnosis, but they nod anyways.

"Yeah, Spence had to take off from work," JJ recalls, "Is everything okay? Did it come back?"

"Uh," You fiddle with your napkin, "No. Not really? Or- it sort of never left. And I won't be, uh, cured, for another few months."

"Was it a parasite?" Rossi wonders, brows furrowed.

"Well.." Spencer considers, "Technically? But, the good kind."

"The good kind of parasite..." Aaron repeats.

You can't stand the suspense, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh- oh!" There's a round of cheers throughout your guests, big beaming smiles and staccato claps that morph into bear hugs. Penelope giggles at the news, but you don't have time to ask if she's making fun of your sex life before Derek taps his glass again.

"Yes, okay, okay, fantastic work you two, but I'm not done."

Curious eyes turn towards him as he pulls a gift bag from beneath his seat, "I was selected to know the gender of the baby before any of you guys," He boasts, "And I've got a cute little outfit in this bag for the lucky baby."

"Let's see," You gush, "Open it, Spencer!"

Your husband's nimble fingers dig through layers of green tissue until they hit woven wool. He pulls out a blue-knit sweater vest, and his face morphs into a sweet smile.

"A boy!" He cheers, looking over at you with starry eyes, "Y/N, we're having a baby boy!"

"Oh," You gush, visions of tiny fingers and toes filling your mind, "Spencer, you're gonna be a boy dad!"

"Derek, please? Please can I do it now?" Penelope asks, effectively breaking you out of your reverie.

"Yes," Derek laughs, motioning her over to you, "Go ahead. Should'a known, patience is not your virtue."

"Shut up!" She gushes, yanking another bag from beneath her seat and racing over to you as best she can in heels on wet grass, "Y/N! A little something extra for mom."

"Oh," You gush, taking the bag from her, "You knew?"

"I needed her help," Derek explains, sorry that he'd spoiled your secret but rushing you to open the gift bag, 'Now hurry up!"

"Okay, okay!" You let out a breathy laugh, reaching into the tissue paper, "Y'know, I'm pregnant, you can't stress me- out..."

Your fingers hit tulle, and you pull out a pretty pink dress.

You're confused. Sure, girls can wear blue sweater vests, boys can wear pink dresses. But you'd assumed the colored clothing items pertaining to a gender reveal party would be fitting into more traditional gender roles for the sake of symbolism, and leave you with answers, not questions.

"Penelope?" You raise an eyebrow at her, and she grins gleefully at you.

"Twins!" She shrieks, "You're having twins! One boy, and one girl!"

Spencer drops the sweater in his hands.

"Twins," You repeat, mouth slowly falling open, 'Oh my god, there's two?"

"Twins," Spencer parrots, looking at your stomach with a growing grin, "Twins? There's two babies?"

"There's two babies," Penelope gushes, and Derek hands over an envelope of ultrasound photos, "You're gonna have two babies!"

"Three days ago we didn't even know there was one," Spencer marvels, and your hands tremble as you pull out the photos. There, clear as day on the grainy photo, are two outlines, one baby on the left and the other on the right.

"Oh my god," Spencer whispers, reaching over to brush his slender fingers over the photos, "Those are our babies."

"Those are our babies," You repeat, tears budding in your eyes, "Spencer, we're having twins."

"Congratulations, you two," JJ smiles sweetly at you from across the table, and Hotch and Rossi offer you similar well-wishes, "So Spencer, you're gonna put together two cribs?"

"I don't think it'll be safe for me to put together one," He remembers the time he'd tried fixing your broken kitchen chair, and your poor cat had made the mistake of jumping onto it. Needless to say, that incident produced not only a pile of wood, but an angry cat.

"I'll do it," Morgan chuckles, "I want both of your babies to make it into adulthood."

"And I'll buy two times the presents," Penelope promises, "But if they're anything like Reid, I might need help affording the two teeny tiny microscopes."

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Can I request a drabble where Arthur comforts a female reader who has a broken heart? The reader's ex-boyfriend cheated on her and left with another woman.

Here we go! I took the liberty to name Reader's ex Jim (pretty random name for that place and time so I thought it would fit alright.)

I hope you'll like it anon!!🙌

࣪ ˖✧ The World is living.

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Mention of cheating, reader's ex is a loser (boo him), reader is in a pretty bad mental state but Arthur is here to save the day, cursing cause he's mad as hell someone hurt you. ✦ Words: 1,5k ✦ a/n: As Anon had requested a drabble I tried to keep this short! Takes place in Clement's Point because the lake is so good for that kind of work, reader is part of the gang. Clearly this drabble is a big hug to all my sis out there who have been poorly treated by their ex🫶🏻

You were sitting by the shore, just behind camp. Flat Iron Lake was always beautiful at that time, just before dawn. Frosty, pastel colors on the sky and the water surfaces, melting into a soft shade of pale lavender and teal blue. You could only hear the occasional chirping of birds, splashing of an adventurous fish jumping out of the water, and lonely howls of coyotes.

The World was living.

You couldn't understand how. How did the World was still turning while you were hurting that much? It should have stopped. It should have. This was the only option after what you had been through.

You felt tears watering your eyes again. You couldn't sleep, as often lately, so you just had decided to come and sit here in the sand to do something, anything else than just lying in your cot, alone in the cold night, alone in the cold silence, alone in the cold emptiness. Alone, so alone even though you were surrounded by people at camp; it didn't mattered. He was gone now, and everything felt tasteless without him, everything looked drearier, even the beautiful morning scenery under your eyes.

You were now crying hard. Damn it, you didn't even knew you still had water in your body for it. You had cried so many times in the past few days your eyes were permanently red, your cheeks scarred by two trails of dry tears; you felt like one of those oranges that people squeeze to get the juice, leaving behind only a corpse of fruit devoid of all substance.

You couldn't do it anymore, it hurt too much. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing once again, trying to let out the sorrow that was eating you up from inside like a noxious parasite since he had left you.

"Y/N? Is everythin' okay?"

You tilted your head up, a slight feeling of panic and shame crashing on you as you searched for your interlocutor.

It was Arthur. He was a few meters away from you, empty bucket in his hands. He probably was on his way to the lake to fill it, but had heard you crying. You weren't too surprised to see him this early, Arthur had never slept much, he was always up before you in normal time, already helping everyone around camp.

He looked at you in the eyes, waiting for an answer. He seemed genuinely concerned; you realized you hadn't seen him for a while since he had been on a difficult job for weeks, he probably should have came back during the night, but you were far too deep in your own dark thoughts to have noticed it. He was clearly clueless and surprised about your state, his arms hanging awkwardly by his sides, his blue work shirt's sleeves rolled up carelessly.

"N-no..." You only answered, trying to wipe what you could of the literal torrent of tears flooding out of your eyes, but it just wouldn't stop, you felt even more ashamed. You must have looked pitiful right now.

Arthur let go of the bucket, letting it fall on the ground without an ounce of care. He then slowly approached you, and sat down in the sand next to you, leaving a little space between your two bodies. He didn't look disturbed or annoyed, but almost as stoic as usual. Except for his eyes. His eyes were telling a hundred stories even if he didn't wanted it. Their azure color bright and deep, you almost recognized a hint of sadness in them, as if he was pained seeing you like this. 

"What's happenin' to ya, miss?" He inquired, voice deep and maybe a bit more empathetic than usual. He wasn't extremely expressive in usual times, so yet you could feel just by his presence how he cared about your well-being.

"It's Jim... He... He slept with one of these pretty girls from the Parlour House and he left me for her..." Saying it was making it all even worse. It was making it all too real. You struggled to get those words out, your tone cracking up as if they were crushing your vocal cords.

More tears, your eyes shutting close in a pained expression, the ache in your heart physically hurting you, as if someone had opened your thoracic cage and was crushing it with his bare hands. In a way, that's exactly what he had done to you.

"Goddamn piece of shit..." Arthur mumbled before looking at you, his intense indigo stare fixated on your face. He felt genuinely sorry, and outraged for you. Who in the world could have to audacity to hurt such a sweet girl like you? He was starting to clench his fists, feeling his blood boiling, a silent kettle on a burning fire. After a few seconds of hearing you cry, he couldn't hold it anymore, empathy getting the better of his rage, and opened his arms to gently pull you against him.

His strong, wide body enveloped you, and you let him. You buried your face into his chest, not really thinking about it, your hands wrapping around his waist, and gripping tight on his shirt. Looking clingy or odd was your last concern, you were way too blinded by your pain. You started crying loudly, wanting to make everything go out of you, your pain, your sadness, Him, everything.

"Yeah, that's it girl, let it all go..." He encouraged you, in a calm and quiet whisper. One of his hands had found its place behind your head, gently caressing it, the other resting around your waist. He carried you, as you screamed your pain to the World, as you poured all these gnawing feelings outside of you.

"He's a damn fool, Y/N. You deserve way better than him, lemme tell ya." Arthur murmured to you, voice still deep and caring. You could also hear behind that a hint of genuine anger in his tone, as he truly was pissed at Jim for having harmed you like this. "And you're gonna be okay, alright sweetheart?"

You slightly nodded into his chest, barely able to answer something properly. His scent and warmth were enfolding you, and you felt like you were somewhere else now, somewhere sunny. Somewhere pleasant. Somewhere better.

As the minutes went by, and his embrace didn't loosen, you slowly started to get out of your personal darkness, breath calming, thoughts clearing. You were taking in the fact that usually, Arthur wasn't frankly fond of hugs or other physical attention, and you felt thankful. He was doing this just for you.

"You're gonna be okay." He repeated like a silent vow. You felt like he was going to make sure of it. And for the first time in days, you honestly believed these words. You were going to be okay. It would take time, of course, but you just knew you would, as certain as the Sun was rising and setting every day.

You gently pulled back, both of you still holding each other in your arms, sitting on the sandy shore, but not as close, so you could look at this face. Your tears had soaked his shirt. You tried to apologize for it, but he quickly opposed it, telling you he had been covered in far worse than your tears. You smiled a bit, knowing he was right.

"Thank you so much for that Arthur..." You told him, genuinely feeling so grateful.

"Eh, I may be a cold-hearted killer, but I wouldn't have let a sweet lil' flower like ya cry..." He asserted, a slight grin on his face. You noticed how he looked a bit reassured himself, less worried. Maybe, just like his affection towards the other members of the gang, Arthur actually cared much more about you than what he was letting everyone see.

He carefully wiped the last tear from your cheek, thumb feeling rough but gentle against your skin, before getting up, his hands leaving your body but not going too far away as he proposed one of them for you to take and help you get up. You gladly took it, enjoying the warm contact of your fingers on his skin.

"I just feel like... I'm not enough..." You concluded with a pained tone, your eyes looking down at your feet. The fact that on top of having broken up with you, Jim had left you for another woman, was absolutely destroying you, making you feel like you were worthless. It was also this feeling that was so hard to handle; so hard to live with.

"Listen t'me." Arthur told you a bit more firmly, his eyes searching for yours. He knew how you felt, he felt bad about himself every day of his life. He didn't wanted you to feel like this in any way, ever. "Don't let this bastard make ya feel shitty. You're a beautiful, sweet, kind young woman, that is the truth." He asserted, his hands squeezing yours in a comforting gesture before letting go of them.

"Thank you, Arthur..." You said once more, feeling like you were repeating yourself, but he didn't seem to mind. He was walking back to where he had left the bucket, grabbing it to finish his chore.

"Ah, no worry, miss." He said to you with a smile, now feeling better as you felt less depressed. "Let me tell ya, this piece of shit better be far by now, 'cause I'm goin' to beat the Hell out of him if I ever see him again." He added, still smiling, but you knew he was being dead serious, and he was way more than capable of it. You almost chuckled, thanking him for the third time and telling him you wouldn't mind if he did.

He noticed the little grin that had curled up your lips. He loved it. His days at Clement's point weren't the same without your bright smile and your pleasant presence.

The Sun had completely risen now, the camp slowly emerging from its slumber. The first drowsy voices of your companion softly filling the air, yawning, saying greetings, some already teasing, merging with the sound of nature around you.

The World was living.

And now, so you were.

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Pre-Show

rhea ripley x reader

content: sad rhea and helpful reader, maybe some smoochin, maybe some sexual undertones who knows?!

Getting put against Liv Morgan was not what Rhea wanted this week but she had to do it anyway. She had been quiet the past week because of it. You tried your best to keep her spirits up and take her on dates and keep her busy to stop her from thinking about but it seemed like that’s all she could think about.

“Obviously you’re going to win,” you tried.

“That doesn’t change what she did to me,” she fired back.

You stared solemnly at her rubbing her arm in comfort. She gave you a weak smile, running her hand through her hair before walking into the living room. She curled up on the couch and Barry cuddled right next to her. You knew he could sense that she was feeling down. She turned the volume up higher than usual and watched whatever channel she thought suitable to keep her mind from wandering.

You sat on the side the dog wasn’t and leaned your head on her shoulder. A muscular arm wrapped around you and held on tight. The wrestler knew that her being like this took a toll on you too but she was never good at expressing her feelings. But her actions of reciprocating the cuddling or bringing you a snack or drink when you never asked, would let you know that she appreciated you being there for her.

The day finally came and the crew allowed you backstage to be with her. They all knew how hard this was.

“Can you help?” she was almost fully dressed with her makeup and hair done. She held out the almost empty bottle of baby oil towards you.

“Sure baby,” you gently took it from her. Opening it with a click you put the rest in your hand, “turn around,” you said quietly.

She followed your command and held her hair out of the way, even though it wasn’t long enough to be a problem anyway. She held her shirt to her chest not letting it fall, leaving the back untied for better application. You rubbed it in making sure every inch of her shoulders and bare back was covered. You wiped the rest on her arms and tied her shirt the way she liked it.

“Thank you,” she whispered putting the bottle in the trash.

“Anytime love,” you smile.

A crew member knocks on the dressing room door before cracking it, “Rhea?”

“What’s up?”

“15 until the show starts.”

“Thank you,” as she watched them close the door.

“You’re the third match though so you have some time,” you reassured her.

“Yeah,” she sat in the big lounge chair that made her look small.

You sighed quietly looking at her for a moment to think of anything you could do to cheer her up for even one small minute. You watched her stare into space chewing at her cheek, twiddling her fingers.

“Hey,” you said walking towards her.

“Hm,” she responded without losing her stare.

You sat on top of her, straddling her thighs, sitting yourself down nicely.

“Hey,” she finally looked something other than sad, resting her hands on your thighs.

“I knew that’d do it,” you giggled, “when this is all over,” you placed your hands on her tight shoulders, “maybe we could have a nice night out somewhere.”

Her shoulders almost immediately relaxed when she felt your hands on them. “That sounds good,” her voice sounded not so sad anymore.

“But maybe later tonight,” you brushed her hair behind her ear, “I can do something…for you,” that had a specific tone to it that Rhea definitely caught on to.

Her eyes lit up, only slightly, but you could tell you were getting somewhere. You leaned in to give her a deep kiss, not caring about the black lipstick stain that would be left.

She hummed into it, gripping your thighs tighter. You could literally feel the hypothetical weight being lifted off of her in that moment.

Breaking the kiss, “You’re too good to me,” she sighs.

“Nah,” you scrunch your nose.

She looked at her phone for the time, “We still have a while,” she cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” and with that she pulled your face forward for another deep kiss.

You braced yourself on the back of the chair. The two of you were trying your best to be wary of the makeup situation but that quickly left your minds as time went on. Your mouths dancing against one another like they have multiple times before, but you could never have enough of her. Your hips involuntarily began to slightly grind on her. Your hands were tangled in her hair as she was pulling you in closer by clawing under your shirt at your back. Small moans fell from both of you. Sweat began to form on her back from the leather seat, so she pushed forward into you. A familiar tattooed hand nudged its way to your waistband, trying to unbutton and unzip-

*knock, knock, knock*

Both of you stopped immediately.

“Rhea?” said the crew member through the door.

“Yeah?!” she yelled.

“10 til places!”

“Thank you!”

“Damn,” you breathed.

“Damn,” she reiterated.

You gave her one more long but lazy kiss before stumbling off of her. Looking in the mirror at the damage you did, you wiped off the black smudges as best you could. She smacked your ass before fixing herself too, replacing what was wiped off and cleaning up around the edges.

“Look good?” she asked turning towards you.

“Always,” you smiled wide.

She held your chin and gave you a big kiss on your cheek wanting to leave a mark, smiling at her creation once she finished. She pulled you in for a deep hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Beat her ass,” you snarled.

“As long as I get to see yours later,” she pushed you back.

“There you are,” squeezing her arms before pushing her towards the door, “now go,” you slapped her ass one good time.

“Do it again,” she stopped just before the door.

So you put your all into it, winding up and landing perfectly on her left cheek so well the sound echoed in the room.

“Fuck,” she held it for comfort, “where’d that come from?!”

You laughed as you shrugged at her, “Go! The sooner you beat her the sooner I can have you at home!”

She stood smiling at you, her sparkle was back in her eyes.

“Go!!” you pointed to the door.

She gave you one more big kiss before heading out the door and closing it behind her.

“Beat her ass, Ripley.”

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you��ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

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