#or how about poor haley! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarletriddles · 13 days ago

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Lost in the fire ˚༄ | S.R

↳ in which the team’s newest case puts your life in jeopardy, at your own accord.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: angst, sprinkle of fluff

warnings: general cm gore/case discussion, fire/arson, injuries related to fire, swearing, references to religion + greek mythology, friends to…? (they’re in la-la-la-love, your honour), some possible inaccuracies (sorry!), small jemily mention because lesbian rights, hopeful ending, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person narrative.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: my first ever fic i’m very nervy🫣i’m not expecting this to gain any sort of traction, but lmk how you find it, i suppose!

“Haley Bradstone, aged twenty-five, and Laura Kilmey, aged twenty-seven, are the most recent victims in a series of murders in Detroit, Michigan. Both victims were discovered four days apart, and only five miles away from each other, their bodies disposed of in black FIBC bulk bags that were left in trash-sites.” JJ pauses, her gaze flickering between the team, almost hesitant as her thumb circles the silver remote. But, with a clearing of her throat, she continues. “Cause of death for both victims has been ruled asphyxiation…by smoke inhalation.”

You abruptly halt toying with the frayed edges of the case file, your eyebrows shooting up and head lifting to look at her, and then also at the rest of the team - who look just as bewildered.

“Sorry, did you just say smoke inhalation?” You ask, genuine confusion weighing down your tone.

JJ nods, her expression dismayed as she eyes the two beaming faces displayed on the board. “Yes, as laid out in the case files, high levels of carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide and hydrogen sulphide were found in both victim’s lungs. The coroner also noted soot around the victim’s faces, and TBSA burns, all of which are synonymous with death via smoke inhalation.”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning is actually the leading cause of death in smoke inhalation - causing approximately 2,100 deaths in the U.S each year.” Spencer adds, followed by his familiar flat smile, which he usually does when he doesn’t know what to do with his face - which happens to be always.

You blink, with a slight quirk to your lips, despite the circumstances. Trust your good doctor to know just about everything.

“Were there reports of any fires around the general area?” Hotch pipes up, his face set in his usual stony expression, though his eyes betray his pensiveness.

JJ shakes her head, adjusting her stance. “No, which is what makes this stranger. The DPD reported no calls about any sort of fire on the days our victims were killed.”

“What? So our unsub just…lit a bunch of fires in plain sight?” Derek questions, with a flick of his brow, his gaze alternating between the board and the manilla folder in his grasp.

You huff, turning to face him with a slight smile, musing. “Must be one hell of a magician.”

Derek smirks in general bemusement, his dark eyes swirled with mirth, his tone light as a feather as he shifts in his scratchy office chair. “Looks like it, lil mama.”

Ever the smooth talker.

“Or, he could be using a secondary location.” Emily chimes in, her narrow-eyed gaze set firm on the file in front of her, her slender fingers fiddling with a bullet-point pen, and her lips contorted into a reflective pout.

“That’s plausible, but you’d think at least someone would notice.” Rossi adds, with a slight huff of incredulity, his calculating gaze sweeping across the entire room before him.

The two smiling faces are quickly joined by two more, both just as radiant, both just as nausea-inducing. Those poor girls.

“We don’t know for sure. But, the most recent victims join twenty-eight year old Sarah Holloway, and twenty-two year old Jessica Bailey. Who, similarly, were found four days apart, five miles away from each other and dumped in black FIBC bags, also ruled dead via asphyxiation. However, Sarah and Jessica’s dumpsites were around 14 miles away from Haley and Laura’s.” JJ purses her lips faintly, eyes still fixated on the crime scene photographs of four similar looking women who didn’t even live properly yet, robbed of the chance to, just like Poseidon robbed Medusa of her autonomy, on the marble steps of her deity’s temple. The thought alone just worsens the crease between her brows.

“four victims…why are they only just asking for our help, now?” Spencer ponders, features frozen in contemplativeness. His fingers sweep up to push his black-rimmed frames back to their previous position on the bridge of his nose.

God, you love his glasses.

JJ’s face morphs into a faint grimace, as she replies in a reluctant tone. “Unfortunately, the media managed to connect the dots on this one, they’re dubbing our unsub ‘the smoke-killer.’ But, the DPD really needs our help with this.”

You sigh, eyes trained on the gruesome imagery displayed on the silver screen. No matter how long you’ve been with the BAU, the violence never quite gets bearable for you, though you can’t bring yourself to look away - like witnessing a car-crash. You understand the psychology behind it, shock rooting the human body in place as the brain tries to comprehend that what it’s processing is real.

But, guilt still flows around in your system like the Noachian flood. Maybe, if you thought about it hard enough, you’d feel the ark bashing against your innards as it tries to navigate the brutal waves.

You suppose the violence doesn’t get easier for the team, either. Perhaps that’s what keeps you all tethered to each other, bonded. After all, the Greeks did beat the Trojans in unity - and disguised as a large, ligneous horse, but you digress.

Hotch nods, solemnly. “Alright, we can discuss further on the jet. Wheels up in 20.” And with that, he abruptly stands up, striding out of the room with a sureness in his step that only he could possess, effectively putting an end to the briefing.

The screen then goes dark, the car-crash finally being attended to. The sounds of chairs scraping across the frizzled navy carpeted floor and paper rustling bounces around the small space, as everyone heads out and into the bullpen, all but the exception of spencer, who remains seated, brooding over his manilla file as though he’s a modern day Thomas Aquinas. always thinking. You muse to yourself, though your eyebrow still raises in question nonetheless.

“Reid, you coming?” You probe gently, standing in the doorway with a faint grin. Your eyes flickering like fairy-lights all around his hunched-over frame.

Spencer startles slightly, craning his head up from the file and over to you - a rosy hue creeping up the nape of his neck from the sight of you alone. He swallows, standing up suddenly, and pushing his chair out with his hip, as he breathes out. “Uh, yea-yeah i’m…i’m coming.” He collects his things quickly, scrunching up his case file as he slings his satchel over his shoulder. Though, it doesn’t really matter, he’s already memorised it from start to finish. Eidetic memory and all.

He flashes you his signature flat smile once again, as his muddy hues rake over your appearance. You look pretty today, well he thinks you always look pretty, but today especially. Your hair swishes around your face in wisps like cotton-candy, your frame adorned in your usual grey fitted slacks, paired with a pink striped puff sleeved button down and black leather boots.

He believes you’re the personification of an angel, and with the way the abnormally-harsh office lighting is dancing around your hair in a nimbus-like manner, he’s probably right.

“C’mon then doctor genius, we have an hour long flight to catch.” Your voice rolling out with a teasing lilt, a subtle smile curled around the edges of your glossed lips.

Spencer usually loathes being referred to as a genius, namely because it’s said with such obvious sneer and condescension, like he’s an abnormal form, like he’s still that twelve-year-old high schooler. But, you never say it with thinly-veiled disgust, no, you say it with such reverence- like it’s something to be admired.

Yeah, angel.

He mirrors your smile, eyes soft and starry eyed as he follows you out of the room. “one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 seconds.” He corrects softly, always keen for specifics, his satchel smashing against his upper-thigh periodically as he walks beside you.

You huff in amusement, rolling your eyes in jest. “Right. My bad, one-hour, 19 minutes and 45 second long flight.” Your head tilts up slightly to look up at him, your irises dipped in unsubtle gaiety,

Spencer lets out a huffy laugh of his own, shaking his head in amusement. He loved when you teased him, though he’d never admit that. At least, not to you anyway.

“Oh, forgive me for being specific.” He sounds out, airily, like a dish-soap bubble crafted by small exploring hands, as he places his own ridiculously large palm on his chest in mock-offence.

“more like particular.” You reply, just as you reach your desk, in faux-annoyance, the curl of your lips betraying that fact.

Spencer puffs out another slight laugh in response, as he leans against the edge of your desk, watching you comb through it. His gaze doesn’t settle, darting around the array of trinkets and just general stuff aligning the glossy oak, including the multiple pots of bright pens - some looking vaguely like the ones he’s seen scattered around Penelope’s ‘bat-cave’ - and even a stick-figure drawing of him scribbled onto a canary yellow sticky-note, featuring overly large glasses and converse, which are more akin to clown shoes, alongside an equally as dramatised stick-figure version of Morgan, complete with a badly scrawled out six pack and huge biceps.

He feels a warmth blossom in his chest as looks over the cluttered space. It’s just so irrevocably you.

“particular or not, i still believe everything-“ He begins.

“-everything should be accurate, wherever possible” You mock affectionately, with a barely hidden smirk, still rooting through your things like a squirrel digging for an acorn.

A slight pout forms on his face, bordering on more petulant than anything. “How’d you even know I was going to say that?”

A faint effervescent giggle slips past your lips, your head still firmly pulled down, as your hands continue their wandering through your desk drawers. “ ‘Cause you’ve said that line at least a dozen times now, doc.” You drawl out, still grinning to yourself.

He wants that sound to be his morning alarm.

He rolls his eyes, only half-seriously, a smile lighting the corners of his mouth up like a vegas ‘welcome’ sign. “I have not said that a dozen times!” He huffs out, with a shake of his head at the injustice of it all, his dark curls springing with the movement.

You just smile, continuing to rifle through your desk before you locate what you were looking for, quickly straightening up and collecting the rest of your things before turning to him.

“Well, I’m all set doctor, lead the way.”

“Is that just so you don’t get lost again?” he replies, with an overt teasing twinkle.

You groan, blowing out like a whistle “that was one time! i was still new, and the hallways are confusing!”

He just bellows out a laugh, pushing up off the edge of your desk and beginning to walk - more like stride - his way to the elevators. You in tow, but just barely. His legs are way too long.

“I can put a sign on my back that says, ‘follow me’, if needs be.” He throws behind his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up!” You bark out, not really with any bite. Never with him.

It had been about three days since you landed in Detroit, Michigan. Most of that time being spent cramped up in the tiny makeshift office curated for the team, downing copious amounts of coffee, reading files until the backs of your eyes burned and dodging the borderline leering looks from the mid 40-year-old, beer gut endowed cops.

In other words, it was hell.

The team had made some progress, though. Narrowing down the profile to a white male in his early to mid thirties, who works a menial job, of average height and build, and who clearly dislikes women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow down the ‘Where’s Waldo’ search by much. But still, you really just couldn’t shake the obvious question…

Why go through all the trouble of burning these women, but not completely, just to dump their bodies?

And it seemed that question floated around the backs of everyone else’s mind, too. It was bizarre, to say the least.

Currently, the team is all stuffed in said aforementioned makeshift office space, like sardines in a can, no less. Emily and JJ sat at the table together, as usual, Derek propped up against the wall, Hotch and Rossi stood brooding in the corner of the room, quietly discussing something between themselves, leaving you and Spencer situated in front of the board, where the geographical profile is mapped out.

“He’s operating within a 20 mile radius, dumping the bodies within an area he’s comfortable in. He’s either going to strike here.” Spencer points to a spot on the map with his finger, tapping against it slightly before dragging it across and towards another spot, “or here.” His features were swamped in pondering thought, his honeyed gaze encompassing the sight in front of him.

“Yeah, but i still don’t understand why he’d go through all the trouble of burning them till they die from smoke inhalation, and then discarding the bodies. jus’ seems a lil’ pointless t’ me” Morgan drawls out, his stance wide and his arms folded, one of his hands resting on his chin.

“well ain’t that the million dollar question.” You reply, with a sigh lathered in perplexity, your arms folded in a similar manner, but with one of your hands rubbing up the side of your arm, in a absentminded fashion.

“Morgan’s right, it doesn’t make any sense.” Hotch pauses slightly, contemplating - like everybody else in the room. His dark eyebrows stitched together, and his lips set in a taut frown.

“None of it makes sense, i mean, even the dumping method, why bulk bags and not just plain ol’ trash bags?” Emily questions, sitting back in her seat with an exhale, her legs crossed with her boot-clad foot tapping against one of the legs of the rickety table.

You blink, a thought coming to you at her question. “Theres a Hardware store in the middle of town, right?” You throw out, hands stuffed into the pockets of your black slacks.

Hotch’s brows furrow, as he regards you. “Yes, why?” He says simply, almost curiously.

You shrug, “so then he’d probably be getting the bulk bags from there, since it’s easily accessible.”

Everyone goes silent at your question, seemingly mulling it over, before Morgan responds.

“If so, why wouldn’t he just buy trash bags?” He says, with a cock of his brow.

“Because he wants the victims to be found.” Spencer states, plainly, piling onto your train of thought and rocking back and forth on his heels, as his tongue darts out, swiping his slightly dry bottom lip.

“Think about it, a bulk bag is much more conspicuous than a simple trash bag, he wants his handiwork to be seen - maybe not right away, but he knows at least one person would find the presence of a large plastic bag near a dumpster to be…alarming, whereas no one would bat an eye at seeing a trash bag. Same goes for his M.O, he most likely has some sort of access to an incinerator, perhaps due to his job, which allows him to discreetly ‘burn’ his victims, before dumping them in a way which derives notice.”

His hands flail around wildly as he talks, an endearing habit that makes it seem like he’s so excited to talk about what he’s discussing that, at the minimum, one part of his body has to move with the speed of his mouth.

You smile - more of a secret thing, really, just for yourself - you love listening to that man talk. It’s the eighth wonder of the world, to you.

Everyone nods, the notion seemingly settling into their psyche without much problem, as logically, it did make sense.

“If thats the case, then we have a problem.” Rossi scratches the side of his jaw lightly, his head tilted and his bronze hues directed at the table.

Emily raises her brow, in clear need of clarification. “What problem?” She murmurs out, her head cocked to the side, questioningly.

“We have an unsub who wants attention, and will stop at nothing to get it.” Hotch adds on, sharing a brief glance with Rossi, his expression more grave than usual, before he fishes out his phone, dialling a number and setting the onyx Nokia down onto the table. “Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Hello, my favourite crime-fighters! To what do i owe the pleasure?” The shrill cheery voice of Penelope Garcia rings out, immediately bringing a small smile to your face. She really was like bathing in sunshine.

“We were wondering if you could take a look at a hardware store’s sales within the last month, more specifically of FIBEC bulk bags.” Hotch drags out, his arms still folded and his face betraying nothing but his usual stoicism.

“Oh, that i can do upside down with my hands tied, sir! just…one…second.” Penelope’s voice hauls out, followed by the rapid clinking of keyboard keys. “What’s the name of the store?” She asks, her tone focused.

“Sally’s Shack” Hotch replies, his tone equally levelled.

After a few moments, and a lot more keyboard clicking, Penelope finally pipes up again. “Ah-hah! so, it appears that our shack in question has sold six FIBEC bulk bags within the last month, all to the same buyer - well, at least the same credit card was used, ending in 4678.”

Hotch looks visibly taken aback slightly, before he asks “Can you get a name, Garcia?”

“Already on it, sir.” Penelope replies, with her usual peachy tone.

A tense silence follows, only sporadically broken by the clickity-clack of Penelope’s rainbow pastel keyboard. Then, she pipes up again.

“Okay…looks like the card belongs to a 33-year-old, Mr. Eugene Humphrey, who currently works at…” Her words trail off, obvious hesitance behind them “…burns funeral home and crematory, and owns a residence just in the middle of town.”

Everybody seems to pause, then. He matches the profile - Mid thirties, works a menial job which would give him access to a ‘discreet’ burning method and just so happened to purchase the same material used by the unsub, whilst also owning his own property not too far away from the hardware store in which the material was purchased…yeah that can’t be a simple coincidence.

“Pen, does he have a criminal record of any kind?” Your voice floats out, drifting through the confined space like Thumbelina on her shamrock lily-pad.

“I will have a looksie for you now, my sweet sugar muffin, just hang on one second-“ Penelope cuts herself off as her fingers begin their ministrations again, the keyboard rumbling with every tap, a smile edging on your face at the absurd term of endearment.

“Alright…looks like our guy spent six months in juvenile detention when he was sixteen for lighting his girlfriend’s car on fire, claimed he caught her cheating on him with his best friend, youch!”

You can practically see the cogs turning in your teammates heads, looks like you got your guy.

“Okay, thats good garcia, could you-“

“-send his information over? already done, sir.” promptly interrupting the low voice of your unit chief, in a way that is so Penelope, that he can’t really object.

“Thank you Garcia, We appreciate it” Hotch replies in his typical authoritative tone.

“You’re welcome, my gorgeous gods and goddesses, now go and save lives.” Penelope chirps out, swinging on her swanky desk chair, her hands now preoccupied with a bright pink fluffy pen.

“You’re the best, babygirl.” Morgan calls out, his tone suave and a smirk illuminating his features.

Penelope lets out a giggle, replying in her token-teasing articulation. “Only for you, my chocolate thunder, now ta-ta!” Her sing-songy voice sounds out with finality, before the line drops, indicating that she ended the call.

“Alright, everyone, looks like we’re scoping a funeral home. I’ll go inform the captain, and i need all of you to gear up, as a cautionary, is that clear?” Hotch demands, his gaze expectant.

resounding murmurs of “yes” fill out the area, to which the dark-haired agent replies to with a curt nod, before swiftly exiting the room.

You let out a breath, turning to the rest of the team with a faintly reluctant expression. “Let’s get this show on the road then, guys.”

Morgan flashes an easy smile, coming up behind Spencer and clapping him on the shoulder, his smooth voice infused with teasing. “You heard her, pretty boy, let’s get moving.”

Spencer has to resist an eye-roll, his cheeks immediately flushing raspberry red, whereas you just let out a small confused laugh - clearly not in on whatever inside joke that seems to be playing out - turning on your heel and prancing out of the room, leaving the two of them to squabble like 10-year-old brothers.

Though, on your way out, you swear you saw Emily squeeze JJ’s hand underneath the table…

Something went wrong. Terribly wrong.

You don’t know how - hell, nobody on the team knows how, but Humphrey somehow found out you were coming. He might’ve gotten some frustratingly accurate in-tell, or maybe he just… knew. After all, bad news attracts bad news, right? And being arrested for the murders of four women sure seems like pretty bad news. Or maybe he was a paranoid fuck. Either thought seems plausible, but currently pointless.

Ironically, Burn’s Funeral Home and Crematory, was well…burning. The two-story high foundation, which you’re guessing was once a depressing waxen colour, is now engulfed in orange. Bright, blazing orange, and for a moment, you almost believe the sun crash-landed onto earth.

The ignited shades dance across your features , making you look like you’re almost glowing. You hear Morgan let out a few curses, and Emily mutter something eerily close to “Oh my God” under her breath. But, the rest of you remain silent, devoid of speech, heads lifted up and staring at the fiery wreckage. Drawn in, entranced.

You can’t pull your eyes away, Not even when Hotch snaps out of his own silent gazing and begins to talk around you, shooting out instructions like darts to your co-workers. Well, until you hear a fire-man trudge past you, in full PPE and carrying a winding anaconda-like hose, writhing along the gravelled floor with each step he takes, similar orders being barked out of his mouth to his team-mates. But, that isn’t what grabs your attention, it’s the information coming from his radio.

A mother and her child are stuck in there, apparently looking for a casket for her husband before the building went up in flames, and they aren’t even going to attempt to save them - something about the fire being “too large, too risky.”

A mother and her child. Her 8-year-old little girl who just lost her father, and now is going to lose her own life, trapped in a scorching maze.

Not on your watch.

You will not, cannot, let this sick bastard take another girl’s life.

Your legs move before your brain even has time to catch-up, darting straight past multiple fire personnel who all try to stop you, but you dodge each one. Not even the sounds of the team shouting your name halts you, your figure retreating straight into the raging inferno.

What’s that saying? Moth to a flame?

Well, consider the molten-structure your flame. Because you won’t stop, will not stop, not until the mother and her daughter are out. Safe.

Either way, God appeared before Moses in the form of a fiery bramble. And maybe, he was doing it again, instead for their freedom, not yours or a 120-year-old man’s. You were getting them out of this desert, even if there were no miles of grainy-sand and the occasional tumbleweed, but instead hot, piercing, smouldering heat.

Spencer’s astute brain doesn’t take long to register what the hell you are doing. And, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so panicked. He practically screeches your name, moving to go after you, but with no such luck as Morgan and Hotch hold him back. But he fights, and he fights harder than he’s ever had in his life, because this is you.

“Let me go! she’s in there! you can’t just let her go in there!” He shrieks, every word sharpened with utter desperation.

Neither Morgan’s nor Hotch’s replies to his incessant wailing actually penetrates his mind. He feels like he’s underwater, succumbing to the depths of the Mariana Trench, fading black and blue.

The water freezes over the longer you’re in there. Trapped in that dismal, enflamed formation. He feels sick, but he knows spilling his stomach content won’t provide any relief, it’s a sickness that’s lodged itself into his bones, into his very being. He wonders if this is what the Woolly Mammoths felt like during the first coming of the glacial-period, just observing as they, one-by-one, all perished to the frost.

He can’t have lost you. Not before he-

…Not before he could tell you that you’re his first thought when he wakes up, and his last before he surrenders himself to the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

No, this can’t be it. He refuses, he downright rejects the thought.

He just stares, and stares at the lit up property, his whole entity screaming for you to just make it. His mind and mouth spinning prayers to god’s he doesn’t even believe in because if there was any chance of that turning the cards in your favour, then he’s taking it and holding on tight.

The seconds feel like minutes, the minutes like hours. Time is a fickle thing, always stretching and compressing back together again depending on someone’s emotions. But, that philosophy does nothing to distract him from the ache. Because a life without you in it, he grasps, isn’t a life at all. Not one that he wants to live, anyway.

Two soot-covered frames emerge from the fiery entrance, immediately being swept away by fire-personnel for medical treatment. And his heart stops, until he realises you aren’t either of those coughing figures.

Where are you? Why aren’t you coming out?

Time seems to stretch again, expanding like a black-hole over his fitful, beating heart. Ready to consume, ravage. But, maybe, that would be an act of mercy, anything would be an act of mercy compared to the waiting. Agonising, hoping and waiting.

Then…a third figure finally bursts out of the flames. He’s seen that mop of hair before, he knows that hair. Even at a fair distance, hunched over and simultaneously gasping for air and hacking your lungs up, tousled, with skin embedded in ash, You’re beautiful and you’re alive.

You’re alive.

He pushes his body forward and he runs, he sprints and goes to you. And this time, Hotch and Morgan let him.

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jhilsara · 3 days ago

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Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Summary: After Spencer is shot he can't do much in the field for a while, being stuck to the offices in Quantico. His insomnia starts to amp up and instead of an urge for McDonald's at 1 AM he finds himself desperate for a new book and a coffee. Somehow, he finds the Midnight Owl, the late night bookstore/cafe open at weird hours with a cute southern co owner who probably gets the same amount of sleep as he does.

She also makes the best coffee that is disgustingly sweet. Exactly how he likes it.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Mentions of Season 5 100 episode and canon typical BAU themes

|Next

The one with the late night bookstore

If Spencer could pace, he would, but his new semi-permanent crutch situation was impeding his mobility. He hasn’t been able to sleep, much less relax with the knowledge of Hotch being stabbed by George Foyet in his own home. Or how it’s clear that Foyet is playing an extreme game with the BAU, but mostly Hotch. Spencer didn’t even want to think about poor Haley and Jack being thrown into witness protection. These were scenarios Spencer knew came with the job he does, but seeing it happen to people he knows and cares about, makes his stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine if it was his own mother being threatened. It sends a cold chill down his back. He needs a distraction.

Spencer’s eyes drag over to his used and abused bookshelf. Looking through his collection trying to find something to read. Even for a distraction he’s not very interested in rereading any of the texts on his shelf. His go to comfort of Sherlock Holmes doesn’t even seem all that appealing at the moment. He needs something that isn’t about criminals or detectives right now. Too bad nothing else on his shelf seemed to catch his eye. Spencer eyes his clock and the analog clock on his wall tells him it’s two in the morning. He’d be lucky if anything besides a dingy twenty-four-hour cafe was open, much less a bookstore.

He sighs and looks over at his discarded laptop on his desk. He boots it up to see if maybe he could at least check how early the library opened. He could try to sleep but his insomnia was eating away at him, trying to focus on anything else but work seemed harder and harder. Spencer had to get out of his apartment. He looks up the library hours as well as a few bookstores. Just trying to see how soon he could sit down and avoid the never-ending running of his brain. He’s surprised when he finds a bookstore that was advertising its hours as open. Surely that was wrong. He spots the phone number on the webpage, and he decides to call to double check.

The line rings for roughly two seconds before it’s picked up, a melodic voice on the other line states, “Midnight Owl, this is Y/N how can I help you?” The cadence of the woman’s voice much too chipper for the middle of the night.

Spencer’s shocked into silence for a moment before he responds, “I thought the hours posted were wrong...” He finds himself stating.

“Nope!” She replies, unbothered by his blunt response. “We’re open 24/5, only closed on Fridays and Saturdays!” She tells him brightly, “You wouldn’t be the first to call thinking we posted our hours wrong though. More common than you think.”

He coughs awkwardly and finds himself nodding even though she can’t see it. “Okay, great, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem, swing by some time we have the best drinks crafted by yours truly!” She jokes with a soft laugh trailing her sentence. She drawls out the end of her words in a way that has them twisting together as sweet as the tea he’s almost positive she drinks.

“Have a good night.” He states before hanging up the phone.

He looks at the address listed and finds that it’s just up the street, barely a block away.

Spencer eyes his crutches for a moment debating on whether he should go or not. His good leg shakes in anxious movements as he sits on his couch. What were the odds that there was a bookstore up his block that was open at odd hours that catered to him? He knew the odds; they were incredibly low . He shrugs to himself and hobbles to grab his crutches, he’ll check it out. Why the hell not? If it’s too good to be true he can add it to the list of places he’ll never visit again like that one coffee shop downtown that burns everything he’s ever ordered.

He desperately needs to get out of his apartment.

Y/N’s night at the Midnight Owl was going slowly. You had a few regulars wander in, which you were happy about since the store had only officially been open for four months. There was a couple that sat on the loveseat in the cafe every Thursday night reading their books together and drinking the cafe’s famous homemade lavender lemonade. Not that you could brag about it, your co-owner makes pastries and premade drinks. All homemade family recipes. On the opposite side of the store was the guy who came in every other day to check for anything new. He grabs a coffee and roams the stacks for an hour. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he doesn’t. He comes in at the same time though, so you’re pretty sure he works a graveyard shift.

There were a couple of students at a table in the cafe section clearly up studying and writing papers. The semester for school had only just started a month ago, but the influx of students coming and going was increasing by the day.

You loved your little bookstore, and during the day it was popping. A rising trendy place for local university students. You preferred the quiet of the nights though. It gave you time to make orders for books, restock, and change out displays. It was methodical cleaning and sorting that kept you sane. Your daytime life was overly complicated and having your own corner of the world was nice. It felt like a safe bubble that didn’t necessarily feel like work.

You’re in the middle of compiling a list of books to reorder that have already sold out when the front doorbell chimes telling her someone just entered. You are behind a stack finishing what you're writing on your notepad when you calls out, “Be right there!”

You bound around the stack to the counter to meet the newcomer, “Welcome in! How can I help you?” you asked happily pushing your hair behind your ear nervously.

You scan the guy from head to toe, he’s definitely new. He looks like a grad student, probably around your age. His mousy brown hair is tied back into a low ponytail and he’s in a well-worn Caltech shirt and sweatpants. The oddest thing about him is the crutches he’s sporting as he comes in. You send him a warm smile.

Spencer looks at the woman standing at the counter and finds you’re not what he expected you to be. You look like the moon; you have features that are soft and delicate, and your eyes shine with the bright ambience of the bookstore. Spencer almost loses his train of thought as he takes in the bookstore worker’s features that just made you seem so inviting.

It takes a second before he registers that you asked him a question. “Oh, yes,” he rushes out awkwardly. “Is the cafe still open?” He questions, tilting his head to the empty-looking bar on the other side.

You nod happily, “It is! I’m the only one who works the night shift, so I run the register and the cafe. Would you like something?” you ask him, already walking toward the counter that holds the cabinet of pastries and coffee machines.

“A latte would be great actually.” He says in a much clearer voice.

“Can do.” You grin at him radiantly and it’s so infectious he finds himself returning one. You turn and almost have a skip to your step as you walk, far too awake for him to deem reasonable for two in the morning.

Spencer watches her as he slowly moves forward on his crutches, she almost dances around the machines as she makes his latte. She’s humming to the music that he’s finally registered playing in the bookstore. She’s radiating a warmth that Spencer doesn’t get to see much day to day except for the one and only, Penelope Garcia. Garcia looked and acted like the sun, one giant ball of pink and blonde energy. He watches the worker move around her workstation making his latte and it’s seamless how she moves, it’s her second nature. She’s just at ease here, which settles his uneasy nerves about trying a new place out in the middle of the night. He looks around and sees a few people mingling about.

Spencer takes time to look around the store and notices how it feels much more lived in than any box stores he’s been to. The overhead lights aren’t fluorescent like a normal store but a few well-placed wooden chandeliers that are carved to look like vines. Every other light is a floor light or table lamp that has mismatched covers and stained glass. He turns to the large windows, and he guesses the store probably gets great sunshine when it’s daylight. The multiple house plants by the window and on the empty tables being a good indicator. The ambiance is so inviting, not to mention the amount of comfortable faux leather seating he sees.

He could imagine spending a lot of time here, it was just so cozy. Spencer can’t imagine he would have missed this place opening but with all the cases they’ve been busy with, he actually isn’t surprised at all.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by her placing the drink on the pickup bar, “So what ails you?” Your voice carries to him, and you tilt your head waiting patiently.

“Excuse me?” He finds himself stuttering out.

You shrug nonchalantly, “Well, it’s the middle of the night and I’ve never seen your face in here before.” You state the fact like it's so obvious.

“So, what’s buggin’ you?” Your voice drawls out sweetly as you look at him expectantly.

It’s almost like the lights in the cafe frame her from behind, bright and dazzling. She’s clearly personable and Spencer isn’t used to people with Y/N’s personality being overtly kind to him. He’ll see how long it takes her to dismiss him like most people do. It doesn’t annoy him like it used to, he expects it really. Especially when his own team and friends do it almost regularly.

You are waiting patiently for his response with unwavering kind eyes.

“Insomnia,” He settled on admitting to you, he gave you a tight lined frown. “I needed a new book; I’ve read through my catalog.”

Your eyes light up, “That’s my specialty! I mean, I make a mean latte, but my favorite part of this place is the books.” you whispered conspiratorially.

“So,” you come around from the back of the bar and put your hands on your hips, “What genre were you looking for? Or was it a specific book?” you ask him.

“Fantasy, preferably. I’ve read all of Tolkien and Gaiman’s works.” He tells you.

You nod in understanding your eyes giving a quick look of him from head to toe, “You look like a man who’s read The Hobbit and American Gods .” You said, almost more so to herself.

Spencer gives you a quizzical look, unsure if he should be insulted or not. You read his face and your own cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands start moving exaggeratedly as your voice pitches, “Not in a bad way! I promise, I’m here for a well-read person! Not that you have to have read those two authors to be well read, I just-” You take a deep breath and stop yourself.

“Sorry, I just mean, you look like you’ve probably read some of the most popular titles in that genre.” Your voice grows smaller, and your face is bright in a flush as you rush through your words, drawling them out in that voice that sounds like sugar. You bite the inside of your cheek forcing yourself to stop talking.

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head, “I get it, you’re good.” He tells you reassuringly.

You sigh in relief, pushing your hair out of your face nervously, “Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant you probably want something different and not recommended every time you ask for fantasy.”

Spencer just gives you a smile, “I appreciate it.” He shifts his weight on his crutches to awkwardly sip his latte.

You usher him over to one of the comfortable chairs with a nice side table lamp that has beautiful green and red stained-glass roses on it.

“Here sit, I’ll grab some recommendations, and you can let me know what you think.” You don’t even give him a chance to rebuttal before you’re off and disappear into the stacks.

The silence that followed her absence was overwhelmingly loud, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Spencer takes his time drinking his latte and it’s delicious. Better than the place the BAU grabs coffee from, and much better than whatever was in their coffee pot at the office.

You pop back out from the stacks within ten minutes holding at least five book options for him to sort through.

“These all have different sub-genres but are fantasy in nature. Let me know if any look good to you.” You hand them over to him happily. He notices you biting the inside of your cheek again, as you watch him look over the books.

You’re rocking on your feet, as you watch Spencer thumb through the books, reading the summaries keeping his face neutral. You start picking at your nails trying not to seem like a dog waiting for its owner. You should busy yourself with something else besides trying to gauge Spencer’s reaction to the books, but you can’t help it.

Spencer pauses on a book with a bright colorful cover that was in the middle of the stack. It’s the only one he pauses on and your face lights up.

“I loved Howl’s Moving Castle !” Your voice pitches up in enthusiasm. You start talking with your hands again, “It’s fun, and the cast of characters who, in a magical world, feel so relatable. The two leads also have great dialogue! I was genuinely laughing out loud.” Your face splits into a grin as you explain the book to Spencer without spoiling anything.

You are so filled with joy as you talk about the book, it doesn’t take him but a second of listening to you to know he’s sold. He’s reading this, your genuine joy selling him on it. He doesn’t have to look through the rest of the stack, though he’s sure you’ve likely read all the books you offered him.

“I’ll take it.” He said, moving to stand up to purchase it at the counter.

You move to stop him, “Don’t worry about it! You can pay on your way out. You look like you’ve been struggling with those crutches.” You tell him waving him back down to sit.

“Just relax, drink and read. It’s what the Midnight Owl’s for.” You chirp happily shooting him a triumphant look as you move to walk back to the counter.

You go back to working on creating an order for books back at the checkout counter. You have the work desktop open back to the list of books you were cross referencing for prices. You go back and forth from looking at your handwritten list to researching prices from different distributors.

The couple who was there earlier finally get up, waving goodbye to Y/N.

“Have a great night y’all! See you next week.” You tell them with your own wave that’s brief as you make the order.

The only noise in the store is some shuffling and the music playing overhead and you humming along to it. It’s a mix CD you burned a few years back and most of the songs are still your favorite. You keep meaning to make a new one, but you just haven’t had time. Your eyes wander from your computer to check on your new customer reading in the corner. You don’t want to hover, but you try to gauge if he’ll be a regular or not. You hope so, he seemed nice enough.

Spencer can feel her eyes on him occasionally, he can see her fidgeting behind the counter. Every other song he can spot her leaning out of the corner of his eye to look over to him. He tries to hide his grin; he knows that look well. She’s trying to see if he’s enjoying the book. Spencer tries to read at a normal pace, even though he can read twenty thousand words per minute, that defeats the purpose of him trying to get out of his apartment to just devour this book. Plus, he kind of enjoys watching the store clerk.

She’s full of energy and he has no idea where it comes from, but it’s almost a nervous energy. She’s constantly moving, either fidgeting or walking through the stacks to check or tidy the books. She’s also passed in front of him a few times to check the cafe machines or even grab a pastry he’s sure has been there for too long, and she feels bad about selling it.

Spencer stays there for a few hours; he really doesn’t notice how long until the door opens and the bell chimes again.

“Morning!” The new woman cheers sleepily.

You wave at her, “Morning Josie. There are still a few pastries left from yesterday, but I put them in the back fridge for you.”

The new woman, Josie, waved back, “Thanks, I’m going to prep for today.”

Spencer finally looks at the time and realizes it’s five in the morning, he sighs standing up. He grabs his crutches and pushes himself toward the counter to pay for his book. If he’s lucky he could get an hour or two of a nap before work.

He gently slides the book over to you and your whole face brightens, “Have you liked it so far?” you asked him.

Spencer grins “It’s charming. You were right about the cast; it’s a great blend of characters that shouldn’t fit as well as they do together.”

You nod excitedly. “I don’t know if you’ve gotten to a certain part, but I won’t spoil it, I loved how they explain the magic that affects Sophie! It was a fun book.”

Spencer hands over some cash to pay for his book. “I’ve liked it so far. I’ll have to ask for another recommendation.” He tells you.

If you were a dog, your ears would be pointed up and tail wagging, you cannot contain your pure joy.

“Absolutely! Anytime, it’s one of my favorite things.” You push your hair back and you look down at the table nervously pushing his book back toward him with his change.

“I’m always happy to see a returning face.” You said looking up at him, your eyes sparkling. “I’m Y/N by the way, I don’t know if I introduced myself.”

Spencer takes the book and his change; you smile brilliantly at him, and he feels a little enchanted by the bookstore clerk. He returns it. “Spencer. It was nice to meet you.”

He gives you a small wave before walking out, crutches pushing him forward.

The one about Halloween

You have decided that you do not care if it’s only September, you are decorating for Halloween. Maybe it’s that you’re festive or maybe it’s from growing up in a southern community that went all out for decorations, but you are determined that the Midnight Owl will be the place to be for October. You’ve also planned a few events for the spooky month for all ages.

There are a few reading hours planned for children during the day, costume contests, and some trick or treat candy lined up to buy. Your shopping list was filling up quickly. For the nighttime events you’ve gotten together with Josie to throw a movie night every Sunday night at eight in October. You’ve already planned a lineup of movies to play and popcorn to order. You still can’t decide on having two movies or not, a family friendly one first and then a scary one. She’ll figure it out.

To say that you are bubbling with excitement is an understatement.

You're in the middle of dragging out one of the boxes of decorations from the attic when the door chimes open.

“Welcome in! Help yourself to shop or if you wait a few minutes, I can fix you a drink at the cafe!” You shout from behind the large box you’re carrying. It’s not heavy, filled mostly with paper and plastic decorations. The box itself is just quite large, and it blocks your view when you walk.

“What are you doing?” A soft chuckle passes through, and you recognize it immediately. It’s your new favorite regular.

You set the box down in a huff behind the counter and look at Spencer exasperatedly.

“If you must know, I’m preparing for Halloween.” You said matter-of-factly.

Spencer’s hazel eyes light up, the same way he gets when he’s about to tell you a long list of facts about something. You love it when he gets excited. It’s contagious.

“Oh, please continue then. It’s never too early for Halloween.” He said happily.

You let out a burst of laughter and it echoes in the room, “Thank you! Finally, someone who understands.” You tease him.

Spencer’s been coming in almost every night since his first visit. It’s only been a month, but you love talking to Spencer. He’s full of endless information and he loves to read just as much, if not more, than you do.

He has an unfair advantage though. He had admitted how quickly he could read to you in passing a few weeks ago and your jaw dropped. You didn’t believe him at first.

“Okay, that’s the fifth book you’ve finished in like two days Spencer. Are you even actually reading them?” You had teased him, when he returned to the shelves looking through the selections.

“Of course I do. I just happen to read twenty thousand words per minute.” He said easily running his fingers along the spines of the books as he pursues.

You scoff, “Yea right.” you rolled your eyes. “Just say you skim through them.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I’m serious, I have an eidetic memory too.” he said.

You blinked at him a few times in disbelief before just bursting into a fit of small giggles.

“Wow, I wish I could read that fast. I’d get through my TBR so much faster!” you said impressed.

Spencer pauses looking at you, trying to assess if you're trying to make fun of him or not. Your face is split into a wide grin, and he realizes you are intrigued by this little tidbit. You didn't think it was weird, that he’s weird.

Spencer felt his face flush a bit, and he just shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s just a really cool fact about you.” You said, like it was obvious.

Spencer mouth tighten into a fine line, and he shook his head, “That would be a first.” he had mumbled under his breath.

You didn’t press him, but you did file away in the back of your mind his response for later. Clearly Spencer wasn’t used to someone reacting positively to this tidbit about him.

You look at Spencer as he stands there watching you. He’s in his work clothes, which you're used to by now, but it’s the opposite of what he wore when they first met. He’s in a purple button up shirt that he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. His cardigan is hanging off his faded brown leather satchel sitting against his hip. He’s leaning on his crutches as she assesses him.

“C’mon,” you said waving for him to follow. “Let’s make something fall flavored to get rolling with the season.” You suggest a small smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer just nods and follows you toward the cafe section.

“Are you a fan of pumpkin flavors or do you prefer other autumn flavors?” You ask him as you walk around the counter to the coffee machines.

The pickup counter for the cafe doubles as a normal place to sit and Spencer grabs a stool to sit in, leaning his crutches against the counter.

“I only like my drinks sweet. Flavor isn’t too important.”

You hum in acknowledgement and get to work on making him a drink. “I’ll just surprise you then.”

Spencer brings out a few books he’s reading and places them on the table. While you make his drink you ask, “What’s your favorite book to read to get into the spooky spirit?”

He perks up, “There’s plenty of options, I think I prefer something classic like The Shinning or maybe even an old compilation of ghost stories. Those are always good.” he said passionately.

“Ooh! I’m obsessed with the paranormal!” you gasp in excitement.

Spencer feeds into the enthusiastic response, “Did you know there are a multitude of categories of the paranormal? Most people only associate it with ghosts or demons, but ufology and cryptozoology are also subcategories. Personally, as interesting as ghost or demon possession stories are, I’m far more fascinated by cryptozoology and the creatures that different areas of the world claim to see and state they have proof of.”

Spencer realizes he’s rambling and tries to cut himself off, but your eyes are wide as you actively lean against the counter giving him your rapt attention.

You notice his abrupt stop and you tilt your head, “Keep going, you have my full attention! I’m trying to get into the spooky spirit!” You drawl out, your rich accent seeping through.

You turn to grab his drink and hand it to him. It's in a nice burnt orange colored mug, “It’s a maple chai latte. Felt like fall to me.” you said quietly, having a matching mug with him. You lean against the counter and bat your hand at his forearm.

“C’mon tell me more!” you giggled.

Spencer stared at you in awe for a moment, before he tried to hide his expression through drinking his latte.

“Ghost hunting became popular in the early 2000s, but it’s been around since the 1920’s and even before then there were popular ghost stories told throughout history! Humans have always been interested in the afterlife which is why we’re probably so fascinated by looking for proof of the afterlife.”

You nod and sips from your own mug, “Have you ever watched those ghost hunting shows before?” you asked curiously.

Spencer shook his head no. “I don’t watch a lot of television.”

You hum in thought, “Yeah, that checks out. Well, they’re super cheesy and trashy. Love them to be honest.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked, leaning closer against the bar.

It felt like it was only the two of them in the bookstore. Inside their own bubble, the world moved slowly inside the confines of the Midnight Owl.

“This is gonna sound so awful!” you laughed lightly shaking your head, “There’s a show called Ghost Adventures, and the main guy, Zak Bagans, he’s such a dick to the ghosts! He instigates all the time, and I mean, regardless of if ghosts are real, he goes in hot ! Not to mention he always throws his costar Aaron into the worst places! It’s just insane, absolute trash.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“But you love it?” Spencer asked.

You gave him a deadpan stare, “Oh absolutely, it’s the best kind of quality trash.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and Spencer couldn’t help but find it contagious.

“Aaaaaaanyway~” You drag out, moving to grab your box of decorations.

“Wanna help me decide how to decorate?” you ask him, grabbing a pumpkin garland out of the bin and tossing it dramatically over your shoulders like a scarf.

Spencer brushes his loose hair out of his face and nods. He may still be useless on crutches, but he could help... Kind of.

You empty the containers of the bin on the counter where Spencer’s sitting and he quickly grabs his mug to lift it up to avoid being knocked over from the avalanche of orange and black. You smile at him apologetically before trying to dig out your favorite decorations.

Spencer’s face is twisted in a look of frustration as he sits in the corner reading. He came in a while ago and besides his drink, he hasn’t spoken much to you.

Which isn’t a bad thing, tonight was one of the busier nights. It was mid-October, and the festivities had been nonstop. Tonight was vampire night, which upon entering the building Spencer was already grimacing. There was a special drink deal on the board hanging above the cafe for anyone buying a vampire related book. Twilight , Dracula , Carmilla , Interview with a Vampire, just pick a title it was an option with its own fun themed cafe drink that was absolutely red.

It wasn’t like you knew he had just finished working on a case that involved vampirism, but the odds weren’t in his favor for finding an escape from the most recent case. Halloween season had its ups and downs he supposed.

There was no way of explaining his slightly irritable mood. Spencer hadn’t mentioned his work to you. You never asked, and he didn’t feel like explaining that he spent most of his waking hours profiling serial killers. In the past it hasn’t made the best openers in conversation. It’s also nice to have this small corner of his life not be coated with unsubs, victims, and death. It’s just his favorite bookstore.

Spencer looked up to see you making more drinks, the cafe was popular tonight. Your chatting up another woman who’s laughing at the joke you told her. The other woman is holding a book that Spencer is positive is a vampire novel.

“And I have one raspberry mocha for a Carmilla lover!” your voice rang out and you handed over the drink to the customer.

“Come back Sunday for our movie night, we’re playing Beetlejuice !” you said and waved goodbye to the customer.

For eleven o'clock at night the shop was busy. Busting out drink after drink and ringing up books at the cafe register. It was your idea to do a deal with a themed book and drink combo, but you didn’t expect to still be busy into the night. You hadn’t even had a break in customers to say hello to your regulars.

For business, this was great, for your own mental health, you were struggling. You just needed it to slow down enough to catch your breath. You should have scheduled someone else on shift with you, but you weren’t about to call for help now. It was your mistake, and you'll live with it. You made a note to make sure someone is on shift with you tomorrow night for a different themed deal.

After another round of five more customers there is finally a break. You sighed leaning against the counter and took a grounding breath. You don’t move for a minute, just catch your breath before you look up and catch Spencer from his chair looking at you. You shot him a shaky smile that is supposed to be reassuring but actually looks like you’re about to cry. Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he decides to get up and come over. The cafe was still bustling but no one was sitting at the counter. Spencer shoves his book into his bag, grabs his crutches and hobbles to the counter.

“Busy night?” he asked, already knowing the answer but trying to see how you were doing.

Your eyes look up into his hazel ones and you look worn. “In my head, the whole vampire boom and Halloween themed event seemed like a good idea. For profit, absolutely. For my sanity? I never wanna see another Twilight shirt or raspberry flavored item for a while.” you said in a groan placing your head against the counter.

“What is Twilight ?” Spencer asked.

He doesn’t know anything except that it has something to do with vampires and its popular enough that the victims of the latest case were also obsessed with it. He knows it’s a book, but besides that, he has no clue.

You slowly move to look up and blink at him for a moment, trying to deduce if he’s being serious or not. “Very funny Spencer, I know you’re not asking what the pop culture phenomenon Twilight franchise is.” you replied with a laugh.

After a moment of looking at Spencer’s confused face you realize he was in fact, unaware. Your eyes widen.

“Wait, wait, wait, you seriously don’t know? I mean it’s like everywhere. The second movie is coming out in less than a month. I don’t think I’ve sold so many copies of a book in my life. I can’t keep New Moon on the shelves.” you said almost exasperatedly, but the smile on your face gave it away. If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d think you were getting a kick out of it. He knows by now you won’t make fun of him; you're elated for a completely different reason.

“I just know it’s popular and about vampires.” He replied with a shrug.

“Oh my god, I get to explain Twilight to you.” your face splits into a massive grin, your energy returning quickly.

Spencer quirks an eyebrow, “I thought you were over hearing Twilight ?”

“No, no, no, no! This is totally different!” you're almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve read all the books, I’m gonna let you borrow my copy next time you’re in! Actually, I’ll give you the first two since you read so fast!” her words are running together in a run on sentence she’s talking too fast. Your accent came through stronger than ever with your eagerness.

He doesn’t have it in him to turn you down, you're just so thrilled. Spencer just finds himself too caught up in your joy to tell you he had no interest in the book series. He finds himself agreeing to borrow your copies.

“I can buy them if you need me too. I don’t want to take your copies unless, you’re sure.” He offers.

You shake your head, “I can’t keep them on the shelves long enough for you to buy them. Just go ahead and take my copies.” You move to make Spencer a drink that isn’t one of the red blood themed drinks on the menu. “It’s not a big deal. I do have a lot of sticky notes in there though, my friends and I read it for a book club night.”

He sits up a little straighter, suddenly becoming more interested in reading these books. Not because of their pop culture relevance but because he could read your commentary. There was something special about that, sharing a book with annotations.

“I’ll bring one too.” He finds himself offering before he can think.

Your face glows as you hand him a chai latte. “I’d love that! It’ll take me a bit longer to read than you will.” you joked lightly.

“It’ll be worth it; I haven’t had someone to talk to about books since my mom.” He said looking down at his drink, his eyes growing distant for a split second.

You open your mouth to ask but quickly shut it, biting the inside of your cheek to stop. You might be nosy, but you knew when to not pry. It was how Spencer seemed to be somewhere else in his mind, if only for a moment. It was enough to know that you had no business asking him to open a can of worms he maybe didn’t want to. Instead, you turn around to grab a set of fake vampire teeth to put in your mouth. They were small and awkward and not cute by any means, but if you could get him to smile, that was all you needed.

You patiently wait for Spencer to look back up at as you rest your head in your palm and keep your face neutral. The fake teeth are making your mouth uncomfortable, but you’ll survive.

When Spencer does look up and sees you dramatically batting your eyes at him and grinning madly with children’s plastic vampire teeth, he can’t control the bubbling laughter that takes over him. His shoulders shake with the full body movement, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Where did you get those?” he asked through his fit.

You turn to spit them out into the trash, your mouth disgustingly filled with drool from the uncomfortable teeth. You cover your mouth and grab your own drink to flush out your mouth.

“They were a gimmick for the themed drinks tonight.” you finally replied. “Good for a quick joke not for actually wearing.” you said groaning.

“Pretty sure they are made for children’s mouths.” Spencer teased.

You shrug and sigh, “Well, being a vampire for Halloween is off the list of options this year. I don’t want to wear those for a whole night.”

“Probably better off.” He said trying to not immediately focus on Dante and his manager coercing a mentally ill young woman into committing vampire ritual like murders.

“Yeah, the whole thing with that celebrity kinda left a sour taste in my mouth.” you mentioned grimacing.

“Dante?” Spencer asked for clarification.

“Yeah, it was all over the tabloids,” you pointed to the magazine stand by the main register. “Got them in this morning.”

Spencer tries to not make a face as he sees them, “You read that?”

You let out a loud snort of a laugh. “No, no, no, oh god!” you stand up a little straighter and push your hair back. “I don’t trust a TMZ article as far as I can throw it, but those murders are real. Making it look like vampire bites...” you shudder, “that just skeeves me out.”

Spencer drinks from his mug but nods his head in agreement. He didn’t peg you to believe paparazzi reports. The magazine articles would be wrong anyway; they didn’t make the arrest until that afternoon. It was refreshing to see someone not believe everything they read.

“If vampires are off your list, what other costumes are you thinking about?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“No idea.” you groan out in irritation. “I usually do group costumes with my friends but, kind of hard when they live 600 miles away.”

“South?” he asked.

You snorted with a roll of your eyes, “Aw geez what gave it away?” you tease with an exaggerated drawl, making your accent thicker than normal.

Spencer shakes his head in amusement. “Very funny. Why move here?”

You tense up, avoiding his doe eyes. You look down biting your lip nervously. “It’s uh, a long story.” you said quietly.

Your body almost looks like it’s trying to shrink in on itself. Spencer doesn’t need to be a profiler to understand your body language. Whatever it is, you’re not ready to share it.

Instead, he tries to be reassuring that he’s not prying for information.

“I’m a transplant too. I grew up in Las Vegas.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’ve never been, is it really just the strip filled with casinos or are there nice pockets of peace and no tourists?” you asked.

You sigh, “It is a lot of tourists. There’s plenty of local places, ones that are only there if you’ve grown up knowing how to get to them.” he told you in a quiet voice, almost conspiratorially.

Your mouth splits into a smile that reaches your eyes, “So you’ll be my tour guide, right?”

Spencer’s face heats up from the suggestion and your giggles fill the room.

“I’m just teasing you,” you pat his arm reassuringly before going to grab a pastry from the front display.

“Come on and split this last cookie with me, I know I'm not going to sell it.” you said grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and warming it up before cutting it in half.

Spencer’s face is still tinted pink but the soft cookie and the way it melts when he bites into it and seeing you look happier than earlier, is enough for him. A small corner of peace in the world inside the Midnight Owl.

The one after Haley’s funeral

You’re sitting at the checkout counter reading the book Spencer most recently traded with you. It’s one of the Sherlock Homles books, which you had admittedly never read before. You've watched plenty of films and shows but reading it never really crossed your mind.

You joked about making Spencer watch The Great Mouse Detective when you finished so you could explain your first introduction to Sherlock Holmes. He had no idea what you were talking about, which you found charming in its own way. You loved introducing Spencer to the pop culture media that just filled your brain. Even if it was trashy. You had promised him The Great Mouse Detective was anything but trash. A childhood classic for sure.

You take your time reading the books Spencer lent. He started leaving small post-it notes for you in them with commentary and questions. It was like you two had your own language, and it was books. Even if he let you borrow a genre you had no interest in, you suddenly were invested. It was a way to get to know him, and in turn he took your books happily. Your annotations were way more scattered brained and filled with tiny commentary to yourself.

You saw Spencer reading one of the books you let him borrow and he laughed, loudly, in the middle of the store. You both flushed in embarrassment. It was a busy night, filled with university students studying late at night, so it was mostly silent besides the music that was playing through the speakers. You knew you had written something insulting about one of the characters in that sticky note. You were creative with your insults, and you had completely forgotten to take that out before giving it to him. Spencer teased you about your comments on Gale from The Hunger Games for the rest of that night.

You’re in the middle of The Hounds of Baskerville when the door opens. You look up to greet them but your face falls when you see Spencer, he looks terrible. You slowly close the book and move to walk toward him.

His eyes were hollow and the normal dark circles under his eyes seemed impossibly darker than usual. Spencer just seemed sad and defeated. You hadn’t seen this side of him and all you wanted to do was press your thumb to his forehead and smooth out the furrow of his brow. To get him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” you asked gently walking toward him. You reach out to rub his arms affectionately, “What happened?”

Your voice is soft and sweet, the way you said honey with your southern drawl feels like a hug. Spencer just needed a minute. One second of peace. The image of Haley’s body unmoving with blood still fresh behind his eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” His voice comes out a little rough. He’s haggard from the flight from Nashville and he really didn’t want to go home.

The only comforting place he could think of immediately was the Midnight Owl, of you. Your warm voice and comforting drinks were the only things he could stand to be around.

Your face softens at his words, and you tilt your head, “Do you need a hug?” you asked softly.

There’s a shaky sigh that escapes Spencer’s mouth and he just nods his head, unable to form the words.

You pull him into your embrace gently, your arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. You rub soothing circles into his back and Spencer holds onto your waist. Your body radiates heat and it's comforting as he shoves his face into your shoulder. You smell like vanilla, cloves, and parchment paper and his whole body relaxes into you. You hold onto him until Spencer pulls away, not wanting him to feel like he was a burden. The store was empty anyway, it's been a slow night.

He takes a deep breath before peeling himself off. He moves his hands to hold your arms so he’s supporting himself. Your eyes soften as you look him over, her hand coming up to cup his face.

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” You whisper softly.

Spencer relaxes against your touch and doesn’t say much, just hums in response. He eventually finds his words, “My friends wife died recently, and it just, it was a shock.”

He doesn’t want to get into how Haley died. That his job makes him and his coworkers targets. The people they love. George Foyet died at Hotch’s hands for killing Haley and attempting to kill Jack. Spencer watched Hotch’s face crumble, fall and lose what he loved the most. He knew Hotch didn’t want to divorce Haley, he loved her and his son with his whole heart.

That love had cost him Haley’s life.

“Oh hun,” your voice brings him back, “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m just processing it.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, you’re allowed to process and grieve, especially if you knew her.” you tell him firmly. “C’mon, go sit down and I’m gonna make a delicious warm drink and we can just relax alright?”

Spencer gives a tiny, tight smile and lets you grab his hand to pull him to one of the nicer chairs. He sets his cane against the arm rest and is floored by how easy everything is with you.

You don’t push or pry for information, let him ramble, and Spencer doesn’t think he’s had a real friend outside of the BAU in a long time, much less someone his age. As much as he loves his team, there are times where they don’t understand him. It’s a lot easier to be himself with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what he’s doing most of his days, and he could argue with himself that you don’t know him. Almost 90% of his life is the BAU, and who is he if he isn’t Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI agent in the Behavioral Analyst Unit? A small part of him hopes he could be the person he becomes when he enters the Midnight Owl.

He’s too lost in his thoughts to notice you walking over with two steaming mugs.

“Here, it’s just tea but I think you need a relaxing drink. No caffeine.” you said with a sweet tone looking him over.

You sit on the arm rest of the chair cradling your own mug. “Can I try something?” you ask him.

Spencer drinks from his mug, but he mutters an agreement under his breath.

“Lean back fully in the chair.” you instructed.

He does as he’s told, he lowers his hands to his lap, mug still warmly pressed into his hands. Spencer isn’t sure what you’re trying to do until your hands are running through his hair, feather light. You’re not massaging his scalp, just the lightest of touches as you card your fingers through his long hair. Spencer’s eyes close and he almost moans from how the tension leaves his body immediately.

You let out a tiny snort but continue the motions.

“My momma used to do this when I was little.” you whisper to him, keeping a low voice.

“I would be asleep in an instant.” you emphasized with a quiet snap of your fingers.

Spencer’s eyes flutter open to look up at you, his big doe eyes looking up to see your soft features be highlighted in the warm glow of the lamps. You look down at him and tilt your head.

“I might pass out like this.” he murmured in a low voice.

“You can if you want. Promise I won’t let anyone bother you... not that anyone’s coming in anytime soon.” You drawl out looking around at the empty shop.

“Just a quick nap, twenty minutes.” he told you, voice already fading and his eyes growing heavy.

You don’t respond to him, just continue stroking his hair until he falls asleep. He felt the warm mug leave his hands and he heard ceramic clank onto the wooded side table next to him.

You watch Spencer sleep, giving him much longer than twenty minutes. His dark circles told enough; he needed this nap more than he was letting on. It takes less than five minutes for Spencer to pass out. His body relaxed into the chair with all tension leaving his body. You slow down your movements until you feel safe enough to stop. His small snore a sign he was asleep.

You moved to stand and went back to your duties, which wasn’t anything more than inventory tonight. Mondays were always slow.

You moved about the bookshop, filing away books, crossing off things on your checklist, and beside the few customers that came in for less than twenty minutes each, the night was quiet. Enough so that you let Spencer sleep much longer than twenty minutes.

Spencer sleeps peacefully for most of the night. You check on him occasionally, and besides the few snores, he’s sound asleep.

Around four in the morning he stirs awake, blinking blearily and looks around the store. You hear him and poke your head out from behind a shelf.

“Good morning sunshine!” you teased in a chipper tone.

Spencer looks at you confused before looking down at his watch. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, tone not accusing, just confused.

You shrug and make your way over to him, “You looked like you needed the sleep.”

You gently reach your hand up to smooth the furrow of his brow. “You’ll die young from all that stress you’re carrying on your shoulders.” You tell him softly. The way you’re gently touching his forehead is like you’re trying to erase the stress and pressure.

Spencer sighs into the light touch, “For sleeping on a chair, it was pretty peaceful.” he murmurs.

You snort in amusement. “Well, at least I know they’re comfy.”

“I sleep on planes frequently, so this is much better.” he said.

“Travel a lot for work?” you asked.

Spencer just nods. Not wanting to explore too deep into his job. The job that was leaving him sleepless most nights.

“Do you feel any better?” you ask quietly.

He nods solemnly. “Better than when I arrived.” he said with a shrug.

You frown but don’t press, you push his hair back again giving him a reassuring smile.

“I’m a good listener if you ever need to talk. Promise.” You hold out your pinky finger in the childish gesture of a pinky promise.

Spencer finds himself smiling, finding it charming. Regardless of his problem with germs, it doesn’t feel so intense with you. You’re not a stranger anymore. He hooks his pinky with yours.

“Not now.” He whispers. “But someday...”

“Someday.” you reaffirm.

The one about family

Spencer’s surprised to see that you’re not working one random night in November. He knows that, of course, You can’t possibly be working every single night he comes in. It just throws him off when he doesn’t see you immediately. The sunshine woman behind the bar making him a new sickly-sweet coffee to try. You’ve only ever missed one day max two, so he doesn’t think much of it. Just a blip on his night.

One night without you suddenly turns into half a week. Every day Spencer walks in and it’s not your bright bubbly voice greeting him. It’s one of the handful of people who work the late-night shift. They aren’t strangers, Spencer’s ran into a couple of them occasionally. So, when Spencer comes into the bookstore to see, yet again, Robert, manning the front desk lazily flipping through a magazine, his mild frustration turns to worry. You've been gone for four days and none of your coworkers seem to know why.

What if you’re sick? What if something happened to you? Did you take a vacation? What if you’re in danger?

The thoughts consume Spencer so much he almost calls Garcia to track you down. Or at least give him your address to check on you. He pulls himself together and realizes that it would be a bad idea and an invasion of your privacy. He’ll just have to wait it out.

Spencer does wait, mostly because he’s forced too. The BAU never truly stops working.

When he finally sees you again it’s near the tail end of November and way too close to Thanksgiving for his liking. He feels like you've been gone for ages, but it’s only been two weeks. The door chimes behind him as he walks in, he’s expecting to see your eyes light up with a smile on your flushed pink cheeks. The way you’ve always greeted him.

Instead, he sees a side of you that he’s not used to at all. You look tired, exhausted. The dark circles under your eyes could compete against his natural ones. You’re wearing glasses which he’s never seen on you before. Her hair is haphazardly tied up, and You're in a large well-worn sweater that reads, ‘Read Banned Books’. He doesn’t think you've slept much, if at all, since he last saw you.

You look like a zombie, barely functioning.

You don’t even register Spencer enter; you're standing at the checkout counter finishing a transaction with a customer. You're swaying on your feet the whole time.

Spencer lets you finish the interaction before coming over to the counter, concern clear on his face.

“Y/N?” He says your name softly as he approaches.

Your eyes fly up to him and widen a little in surprise, your body reacts with a small flinch. “Oh god Spencer!” You give a soft laugh, your hand coming up to clutch your chest, “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.” you try to calm yourself down.

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and Spencer can tell. It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re not yourself. Her eyes are only half open, your hands shaking from what he can only assume is the obscene amount of caffeine you probably have in your system. Everything just seems muted, not the bright colors he used to see you framed in.

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been gone for a while.” he prompts, trying to get something out of you. A clue to what might have happened. Anything.

You shake your head, “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” You said it a little too quickly.

Spencer doesn’t buy it, but he’s kept enough secrets to himself to know he probably shouldn’t go looking into friends’ private lives. Some things he knows he’d rather keep to himself... but seeing you like this, he wants to help.

You avoid his eyes and start to play with your hands on the counter. “I-” you open your mouth but promptly shut it again. You bite your cheek with a frown plastered on your face.

“Sorry, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” you said quickly before turning to grab some books from behind the desk to busy yourself with.

You don't want to talk about or think about it. It’s been a long two weeks, and you just need some normalcy. Something that you know you can do and enjoy.

You feel Spencer’s eyes burning into you. You try to keep your usual high energy, you truly do. Everything has been so rough this month; you just need a break. The bookstore was your one solace. The Midnight Owl wasn’t just a job, it was your home. Your safe haven.

You didn’t want to bring your real life here, not when sometimes your only highlight is seeing Spencer and sharing books back and forth. If he starts asking about your life outside the four walls of your shop, you don’t know if you can hold yourself together. Not today.

“Y/N,” he opens his mouth trying to get your attention again.

“Really Spencer, it’s fine, I’m fine!” you tell him, a short tone to your voice.

You spin on your heels to walk somewhere, anywhere, else. “You know I have your book actually, let me return it. I left some notes in there.” You make it five or six steps before you falter and sways again. Spencer reaches out to grab and steady you.

“Forget the book, you don’t look fine.” He makes you face him. “You look exhausted.” He chastises you.

You deflate immediately and let Spencer guide you to a chair. He gently sets you down and he pries the book out of your hand and places it on the side table.

“Sorry, you don’t have to take care of me.” you murmur feebly swatting him away. “I just...” You take a deep breath. “I had to take dad to the hospital on Tuesday and it’s just been downhill all week...” you admit timidly. You pushed your glasses up to your hairline and pressed the heels of your palm to your eyes.

“I haven’t gotten much sleep.” you admit.

“You’ve run yourself ragged.” Spencer lowers himself to be eye level with you. “Is he home now?” he asks gently.

“No, they’re keeping him one more night.” you said with a heavy sigh.

Your arms fell in between your knees, and you lean your head back exhausted. “It’s just been hard this past year...” your voice is small and lingers with sadness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.

Spencer maybe doesn’t like talking about his hardships, but he’ll listen to yours if you let him. He wants to desperately ease your mind, see you smile.

You look up at him, eyes wide as you assess him. “I don’t want to put my problems on you Spencer.” you give a tight smile. “I’ll figure it out.”

Spencer reaches out to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Talking about it doesn’t mean that you’re inconveniencing me. I'm just worried.”

You sigh, already feeling him chip away at you. You didn’t stand a chance against his big doe eyes looking at you like you were fragile.

You take a deep breath before answering him, “My dad has ALS, he was diagnosed a few years ago... I’ve been taking care of him.” you admit.

“Where we were, the doctors just weren’t cutting it. So, I did some research and of course there were stellar doctors in DC... plus my baby sister came here for university so I just thought... maybe it would be easier. On all of us.” The tone of your voice gives your worry away.

“Anyway, he just, he had an accident and fell down the other day. His legs are finally giving out and he’s being so stubborn about needing a wheelchair.” Your voice shakes and you close your eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” you finally admit looking up at Spencer with watery eyes.

Spencer understands. He’s spent most of his life taking care of his mom because of her own illness. While your dad is suffering from something different, he understands. Probably more than you realize.

“I get it, I do.” he said. You go to retort, but he cuts you off. “I took care of my mom for a long time. She...” He pauses looking at you, debating for a moment on if he should tell you.

“My mom has schizophrenia, and I committed her when I was eighteen.” he tells you with a tight frown.

“It’s hard to take care of your parents, especially when it’s their job to take care of us.” He tells you sincerely.

You have tears pricking your eyes, “Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’m telling you this because I understand. I promise I do, it’s not easy.”

You take a shaky breath; your heart feels like it’s a thousand pounds. “Does it ever get easier?” you ask softly.

Spencer squeezes your hand, “No, it doesn’t. There are happy moments though. Moments where you know you’re doing the right thing, even if it’s difficult.”

You sniffle and wipes your face, “Thanks, I uh, I needed that.” you said with a small smile.

It’s getting closer to Christmas. The bookstore is decorated and busier than ever. There’s a handful of special events but between people coming in to buy presents and university students staying all night to study for finals, you have your hands full.

There’s a second staff member working nights with you this month until the holiday break starts for the store. You and Josie were adamant about closing the bookstore between Christmas Eve and New Years. If someone needed a book that badly they could go to a big box store.

What you really don’t need right now is your baby sister coming to your place of work and harassing you about Christmas and your dad.

“Bridget, I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now!” you hiss out at your younger sister. “You didn’t spend Thanksgiving with us and daddy really wants you to come home just for Christmas.” you chastised your sister with a frown.

You have a pause in customers for the moment, but you know that the large study group is coming in half an hour like they have been for the past week and half.

“That’s not fair Magpie!” your sister groans in frustration using your nickname to try and be sweet. “I made these plans months ago; Mark really wants me to spend Christmas with his family.”

You cross your arms and look at your sister sadly. “Birdie, we don’t know how much time we get with dad-” you start but is cut off.

Bridget’s face scrunches in disgust at her sister’s words and huffs exaggeratedly. “Good god Y/N! He’s not gonna die over the holidays, stop fucking guilt trippin’ me over every decision because it doesn’t revolve around dad!”

Bridget’s annoyed and you can tell, she always tries to skirt around her problems when she’s frustrated. She thinks you’re trying to back her into a corner.

“Birdie-”

“It’s Bri. I go by Bri here.” Her sister crosses her arms and looks at you in annoyance.

“Look, I know dad’s sick, I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were Bridget.” you said defensively.

She rolled her eyes, “I didn’t decide to pack everything up and move dad out to DC. Just because you’re closer doesn’t mean I’m going to stop living my life to take care of daddy.”

You bite your tongue. Trying to not fight with your sister, but your irritation rises in your throat. Burning words of resentment linger in your mind.

“Fine. Would you please just call him on Christmas and please come by after the New Year. He really misses you.” You try to plead with your sister.

Bridget just waves goodbye as she walks out the door, “Will do. See you next year Magpie.” she almost ran out the door.

You deflate, your shoulders dropping. You almost don’t hear Spencer walking up next to you holding a gift bag in his hands.

“I didn’t know your sister visited you.” he said.

You look up at him and smile at your favorite regular. Your friend. You think they’re allowed to call each other friends now. He already saw you cry and that was a big step.

You shake your head, “Yeah, we’re not as close as we used to be.” you mumble under your breath.

Spencer nods his head. He never had any siblings, but he can read your face well enough to know you’re not thrilled.

“Still close enough for nicknames, Magpie?” he asked, biting back a smile.

“Childhood nicknames, Birdie and Magpie. Cause we were birds of a feather.” You said looking down at your hands sadly.

“It’s fine.” you shrug it off and give a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You lean against the counter. “What’s that you got there?” you asked, changing the subject.

You’re pointing to the gift bag in his hands. You tilt your head curiously.

��Oh, this is,” he flushes for a split second rushing his words out. “This is for you. I know you’re closing for the holiday soon and I don’t know if I’ll have a last-minute work call or not so., I brought your Christmas present.” He fumbled through his words quickly, but he held out the small bag.

You light up immediately. Your eyes shimmer with excitement. “Aww, Spencer! This is so kind thank you!”

You bend down below the counter and grabs your own item, “I actually have your present too.” you said shyly, handing him a wrapped package.

Spencer is quiet as he gently takes the gift from you, a tiny smile on his face. He brushes his hair back out of his face as he looks at you softly.

“This is so kind thank you.”

Giddy giggles consume you, and you hold the gift bag. “Should we open them together or do you want to wait until Christmas?” you asked.

Spencer shakes his head, “No no, you can open it now.” He reassures you.

You smile, biting the inside of your cheek and open your present. Under the tissue paper is a sweater that’s twice your size and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You pull it out and it’s a purple crocheted sweater with a beautiful sun right in the middle. It reminds you of one of the tapestries from the late nineties that would have been in Practical Magic or something like that.

“Oh Spencer, this is perfect.” you say quietly holding it tightly to your chest. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

You pull off your cardigan and immediately shove the sweater on. You nestle yourself inside it and grins widely, “It matches your scarf!”

Spencer just takes in your joy and how you light up, and he’s happy he could make you feel better.

“Well go on open yours!” you said excitedly pushing your wrapped package toward him.

Spencer gently peels back the wrapping paper and uncovers a white box; he opens the box to find a ceramic mug. It's custom made, with some uneven texture. It’s glazed a speckled purple and wrapped around the bottom is a quote, “Some books are so familiar that reading them is being home again.” -L.M. Alcott

Spencer is quietly inspecting it, and you start explaining. You push your hair behind your ear, “I uh, I took a pottery class in my free time this past year. Since you’re here so much I thought you would like your own mug.” you said hesitantly.

Spencer’s eyes widen, “You, you made this? For me?” he asked in surprise.

You nod, looking down at the counter nervously.

Spencer makes his way around the counter and pulls you into a tight hug. “This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me.” he whispers to you.

You return the hug holding Spencer tightly. You press your face into his shoulder, and you feel infinitely better than how your night started.

When they pull apart you play with the edge of the new sweaters' sleeves, a small blush on your face. “Do you go visit your mama for holidays?” you asked him.

Spencer shakes his head, “Not all the time. My job doesn’t usually care if it’s a holiday or not.” he tells you.

You nod, “Well, I hope you get to this year Spencer. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll try to see her soon.”

You nudge him lightly, trying to keep the tone light, “Want a fresh drink in your new mug?” you tease.

Spencer chuckles but nods his head. “I’d love that.”

“We’re about to test run if I’m actually good at pottery. So, fingers crossed it doesn’t leak.” you joke moving to the cafe counter at the back of the store.

Spencer watches you walk away, with a skip in your step like the first night he came to the Midnight Owl. The way you easily glide through the crowd and chatter with customers and giggling.

You shine bright like a star, like the sun.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #x reader

153 notes · View notes

ithebookhoarder · 9 months ago

Note

If your still taking requests could u pls do “if you were taken by an unsub” criminal minds imagin? Or smth along those lines, if not that’s fine tho

~ ☘️

(BAU Headcanons) If you were taken by an Unsub

A/N: Um, of course you can?! Thanks for sending this one in angel 😇 I'm only sorry it's taken me this long to answer this. Hope you like it!

Warnings: Usual Criminal Minds references to criminals, murder, violence etc. Mentions of mental health. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

If you were taken? This man would not rest until you were back and safe with him - and not just because of what happened to Haley (though it doesn’t help).

He would bark orders at everyone in a cold and blunt manner that tells them he is not in the mood to be messed with.

They will do as they are told and they will do it now.

This poor man would be fighting not to let his fear show but he'd be seen clenching his fists over and over and taking long deep breaths in front of the mirror in the bathroom in an attempt to ground himself and get his head on straight.

He's no good to you if he lets himself fall apart. His team - and more importantly, you - are counting on him.

You know he’s blaming himself and you’re both going to need therapy once this whole experience is over with.

He would go into his hyper-rational mode, focusing on making plans and ignoring anything that isn’t getting you back safe and sound - which means no sleep. None. He’s running on fumes and caffeine - even after you’re found.

It would take days for him to feel secure enough to close his eyes and be able to trust you’ll still be there when he opens them again.

Also you best believe he is breaking out his old law text books and ensuring this UnSub goes down for a lonnnnnng time… if they even make it to trial that is. This man is a trained sniper and knows other trained snipers… just saying…

David Rossi

He may like to remind you all of his passionate Italian nature from time to time but it’s impossible to miss when he hears what’s happened to you. He’s an emotional mess, staggering between horror and rage to a frighteningly cold determination that is rare for the eldest team member.

He’d try to act in control, pulling rank on everyone - including Hotch, which obviously doesn’t work.

“No offence, Aaron, but I was chasing down Unsubs when you were still in diapers. I know what I’m doing.”

However, they know him well enough to see that despite having years of experience under his belt, Rossi is terrified of making some kind of mistake.

Once they do find you, he’d be one of the first through the door, too concerned with checking you’re ok to worry about anything else.

He’d also be sure to pay for the best medical care money could buy, if you needed it following the ordeal.

He also knows people and has no problem paying for you to see a counsellor of some sort if the situation required it. He just wants to take care of you now that you’re back in his arms again.

Derek Morgan

This man is like a whole military unit in himself at the best of times, but he’s a whole other level of lethal when it comes to protecting the ones he loves. You do NOT want to be on the wrong side of Morgan, and that’s exactly where the Unsub who took you would sit.

There isn’t a door he wouldn’t be willing to kick down to get you - and everybody knows better than to say a word about it. (Hotch is already mentally filling out all the paperwork he’s going to need once this rescue is done, but he doesn’t exactly mind, given the situation).

Also, Morgan may have trained you himself, drilling you in self-defence and marksmanship so you’d known how to protect yourself out there in the field, but none of that matters now. You may have the Unsub at your mercy already, or you may be at theirs, but he doesn’t know and that’s what’s killing him: the not knowing.

It’s why Penelope is basically glued to his side the whole entire time, telling him everything she finds out the very second she finds it.

“We’ll find them sugar, I promise. They’re just as tough and strong as you are, so don’t give up on them, ok?”

He’d be leading the pack once you are found though, tearing through anyone and anything that stood in his way. All he cares about is seeing you with his own eyes and getting you as far away from danger as possible.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’s my job to keep you safe and I failed you.”

He’d be beating himself up for weeks after and it would take an entire team intervention to get him to let you go back out into the field again without him being glued to your side. After all, he’s not making the same mistake twice. Any Unsub wants that wants to get close to you will have to get past him first.

Emily Prentiss

This woman is a super spy and a lethal weapon on an average day but if you were taken? Then she would be the most dangerous woman in the entire United States.

She knows people in every agency and on every continent so you best believe she will be calling in favours left, right and centre. (Even Rossi is terrified by how quickly she was able to get the Pentagon on the phone…)

She would also be action-focused, needing to do something rather than sitting around wasting time. Every minute spent talking was one more minute the Unsub had to hurt you - and that thought makes her feel physically sick.

This would end up causing her to explode, taking it out on whichever unfortunate soul is closest. Like, you know she would definitely have to be reminded by Hotch that they actually need the local law enforcement to work with them, if they want to get you back alive, after she is seen screaming at an unfortunate officer for their ‘utter stupidity’.

Thankfully, she gets to turn that rage on the Unsub after they find you. I mean, let’s be real. It would take Morgan physically holding her back to stop her from beating their face in.

This frustration would ultimately then be transferred to you, once she knows you’re safe.

You almost can quote her ‘You almost died’ speech by this point, but you know it makes you both feel better to hear it so you let her rant and rant until she’s calm enough to crawl into your arms and squeeze you close.

“I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

You’re also pretty sure she now has people following you at all times, watching over you when she can’t, so that this never happens again.

JJ is every bit as lethal as Emily is when those she loves are at risk. If anything, she’s more terrifying because she’ll hide that murderous rage behind a ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ smile before deciding to strike.

However, it would take everything in her not to just charge in and go on the offensive. After all, she was willing to run into a bank full of armed robbers after Will.

It would probably end up with the team having to physically holding her back to stop her - usually accompanied by a well meaning pep talk about how she needs to get her head on straight if she actually wants to help get you back.

You know this woman would follow you everywhere afterwards, never letting you out of her sight. In fact, she hits ‘super Mom mode’ where she is constantly fussing over you and seems to have the world in her go-bag.

You need tissues, pain-killers, chocolate: she got it.

“Hey, it’s ok. You know I’ve got your back, right? I won’t let anything else happen to you. You’re safe now.”

She would also call you out on all your BS, if you tried to downplay what happened to you or if you were still affected.

One twitch of her eyebrow is all it takes for her to have you pinned to your chair and spilling your guts about your emotions. You know better than to make her ask twice. After all, she may be the first to downplay it when she’s hurting but when it comes to her team and her family, she’d do anything to take care of you. If that’s driving your ass to therapy or just holding you, she’ll do it without complaint.

Penelope Garcia

Would immediately panic as soon as she hears what’s happened to you. Like, we’re talking SO much panic.

Poor girl is spiralling and needs the team to help ground her so she can get back to the lair and do her thing. It would probably be down to Morgan or like JJ to get her to actually remember to breathe and not make herself pass out.

But once she’s up and running? Well, she’d be all over the Unsub like a bad rash. Every teeny tiny detail of their life is suddenly unearthed and splashed on the

board for everyone to see. (No one dares ask how she found certain items, but knowing her history with the dark web it’s probably for the best).

Also, she would be begging for constant updates once the team is out in the field. Any other day, it would drive the team insane to have a constant running Penelope monologue in their ears, but they’re surprisingly tolerant in this case.

“Guys, do you see them? Are they ok? What’s going on? I need to know people! I have no eyes here!”

Would be all over you once you’re safe and insists on installing tracking software on everything. She wants a digital link to you, 24/7 so that this NEVER happens again. It’s simultaneously flattering and slightly terrifying how much power this angel has at the end of her glittery, manicured fingers.

Dr Spencer Reid

Depending on which season-Reid you’re with when you’re taken, you would have a distraught super genius who makes it his life’s mission to get you back. Or, you’d have a prison-hardened super genius with a slightly grey-er view of the world on a mission to find you.

Either way, there’s probably no one you’d want more to be in charge of locating and rescuing you.

Like Hotch, I feel he would become obsessed with nothing other than finding you. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. Hell, no one on the team has even seen him leave the briefing room long enough to go pee, let alone take a break. This results in the team all taking it in turns to be parental figures and coax (and eventually threaten) him into pausing long enough to down a glass of water and eat some snack bar.

Between Morgan’s physical threats, JJ’s guilt-trips, and Hotch threatening to bench him from this case, they’d eventually succeed.

“You guys don’t get it. They need me. I have to figure this out - they’re counting on me. I can’t fail them. I won’t. So either help me or get out of here and let me think.”

We all know he would probably harass any medical professionals charged with caring for you, once you’re back. He doesn’t trust them - especially when it comes to your welfare.

He’d also confine you to the couch and force you to rest, queueing up endless re-runs of Doctor Who and whatever shows you find most comforting to have playing in the background. It’s selfishly what he needs too, being able to sit and hold you long enough to quell any fears he may have about you and your wellbeing. You’re here and you’re real and you’re safe.

Masterlist

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hoe4hotchner · 3 months ago

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Knock knock! Guess who’s here again 😅 New request for our baker!reader and hotch

I literally just had this idea and I need it now! What if after reader meets the team they all look at hotch and they’re like “you two obviously like each other!” And as the good profiler he is, he knew reader had some feelings for him. But he never thought he deserved someone like her to call his.

And yk, maybe some angst on hotch trying to convince himself that he deserves a new relationship even after what happened to Haley. And when he does convince himself, he has this idea of baking heart shaped cookies for her and talk to her about his feelings. But he doesn’t know how to bake cookies so they end up burning, and reader smelled the burning coming from his house and went check if everything was alright. And they talk and boom, very fluff end with hotch being happy again because that poor man deserves it 🥲

Heart-shaped cookies [A.H]

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟼𝟼𝟹 𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝙰/𝙽: 𝙾𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

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The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the BAU's break room as you, the team’s new favorite baker, placed an assortment of treats on the counter. The team had quickly become accustomed to your regular visits and deliveries of cookies and pastries, a small token of gratitude for their kindness and friendship.

One afternoon, as you were unwrapping a batch of heart-shaped cookies, Morgan, casually remarked, “You know, Hotch, you guys seem pretty close. You two obviously like each other!” As Hotch passed the room to greet you.

Hotch’s expression tightened slightly, but it was clear he was processing the comment. As a profiler, he could read between the lines - and he had certainly sensed the warm feelings you held for him. But Hotch struggled with the notion of deserving a new relationship after the loss of Haley. He was scared that history would repeat itself.

The team’s teasing didn’t help. Hotch knew he was not ready to fully embrace his feelings, grappling with the belief that he might not deserve happiness after his past.

As the days went by, Aaron found himself determined to overcome his fears. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him. His plan? To bake your famous heart-shaped cookies - something you’d probably appreciate he thought. He wanted to surprise you and, more importantly, to talk to you about his feelings.

However, Aaron's baking skills were far from ideal. As he attempted to follow your recipe, he was met with a series of culinary mishaps. The dough stuck to his hands, the flour went everywhere, and despite his best efforts, the cookies were a burnt mess once they came out of the oven.

The smoke alarm’s shrill beep filled his kitchen, and as the sharp smell of burnt cookies spread through his house, it didn’t take long for you to notice. You had been working late at the bakery, but the scent was unmistakable as you passed his house. Concerned, you decided to check on him.

You knocked gently on Aaron's door, and when there was no answer, you opened it slightly, peeking inside. The sight that greeted you was a flustered Aaron standing amidst a kitchen covered in flour and the unmistakable scent of charred cookies.

“Aaron?” you called out, stepping inside. “Is everything alright?”

Aaron turned, his face reddened from the heat of the oven and embarrassment. “Uh, yeah, just... had a little trouble with baking.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight. “I see that. Mind if I help?”

With a grateful nod, Aaron stepped aside, allowing you to take control of the situation. You quickly assessed the damage, setting aside the burnt cookies and starting fresh. As you worked, Aaron watched you with a mixture of admiration and nervousness.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron began, his voice hesitant. “I wanted to make these for you, but I’m afraid I’m not much of a baker.”

You smiled at him, your hands expertly mixing the dough. “It’s the thought that counts. And honestly, this is kind of endearing.”

Aaron's eyes softened as he observed you. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something... I’ve... struggled with moving on since Haley. I never thought I’d deserve another chance at happiness.”

You paused, meeting his gaze. “Aaron, you deserve happiness. Everyone does. It’s okay to let yourself have it.”

Aaron took a deep breath, nodding. “I needed to hear that. And I needed to show you that I care about you. Even if I’m terrible at baking.”

As you finished preparing a new batch of cookies, you both sat down at the kitchen table. Aaron poured two cups of coffee, as you both enjoyed a moment of quiet together. The air was filled with a new sense of ease and understanding.

When you finally tasted the cookies, still warm and perfectly baked, you looked at Aaron with a soft smile. Aaron's eyes sparkled with newfound hope and gratitude for you and him.

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secretly-tumb1r · 8 months ago

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Roadtrip - hotch x reader part 2

part one

summary: when hotch finally sheds his stubbornness, he decides to drive back to Quantico from New York, in an attempt to rest his punctured eardrum. You couldn’t leave him without company, so you join him.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (hotch in his late 40s reader in her late 20s), unprotected sex (p in v) oral (fem receiving), no mentions of haley

a/u: thank you guys so much for the support on the first part of this, you’re all so so sweet💞 i truly hope you enjoy this part too💞 xoxo

masterlist

You’ve kissed people before, but never like Aaron. It was almost like you had been starved of his taste, and him of yours. The kiss was so rough and angry, angry at the fact you didn’t do this earlier. If you knew it would be this good, you would’ve jumped his bones the minute you saw him.

There was no doubt he was more experienced than you, he was a lot older too, but right now, you were both just as starved and as messy and impatient as the other.

The kiss was so impactful, you could feel your arousal start to pool in your panties. Looking for any sort of relief, you start grinding on his crotch, giving you easy access to it since you were straddling him while he was laying down. You could feel him get harder by the second and that only made you moan in his mouth.

He gently bit your lower lip as he moved down to kiss your jawline and lower to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you arch your back and drop your jaw in a silent moan.

His lips explored your body as they reached your covered breasts. Big hands cupped both your tits as both index and thumb fingers pinched and rolled your nipples.

“fuck a-aaron”

“i know baby i know”

“please please” you were a moaning mess above him. He flipped you on your back so now he was on top of you, a coy smirk plastered on his face.

“what is it baby hm? cmon use your words sweetie”

the pet names made you wetter (if that was even possible) you needed him now.

“please f-fuck me aaron”

he chuckled deeply, laughing at how desperate you were. His hands moved down from your breasts to your lower stomach. He lowered himself on the bed on his stomach as he began to kiss your inner thighs.

“awh poor baby” he rubbed a finger on your clothed cunt, arousal seeping through it. “so wet” he looks mesmerised by your glossy panties. “all this for me huh baby?” you shook your head frantically and moaned, giving him the answer he wanted.

“don’t worry sweetie i’ll make it better” his big fingers hooked around the hem of your panties as he ripped them off in a sudden movement, the cool air hitting your weeping cunt, making you clench around nothing.

He pecked your swollen clit, and looked up in your eyes to see your reaction. Your head was thrown back, your hair messy. A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead, your body already so hot even thought nothing had happened yet.

He ran his tongue up and down your slit, gaining a hiss from your throat. He groaned. “fuck honey, you taste amazing” He started flicking his tongue up and down, he was a starved man and this was his last mean. Suddenly he put his finger up to your lips “suck” you gladly took it in and swirled your tongue around the tip of his finger, he let out a shaky breath as your spit coated his finger. He took it out your mouth with a ‘pop’ and teased your entrance.

Just as you were about to complain he he inserted his finger in your cunt, knuckles deep. His fingers were far bigger from yours giving you a pleasure you were never able to give yourself.

“you think you can take another one baby?” you nodded frantically and a low chuckle escaped him. He stretched you open when he added another finger, pleasure building deep inside your stomach.

His head lowered to suck on your clit, his touch was addictive. “fuck- ‘m close!” he started to pump his fingers faster as he looked up at you making eye contact. He looked too pretty between your legs, hair messed up and nose up aganist your pelvic bone. You could come just at the sight. Your hand flew to his hair as you started grinding on his face. Suddenly you felt it. You let go all over his face.

When he came up, his face looked delicious soaked in your arousal. He licked his lips and fingers clean as he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself, “please aaron need you inside” you managed to croak out between kisses.

Your hands flew to his pants button, undoing it quickly. “someone’s eager” he laughed and you could only moan.

You could see his bulge through his boxers, he looked so big.

Your mouth watered at the sight as you pulled down his boxers, his cock springing out proudly, leaking with pre cum.

“lay down baby” his gentle voice awakened something inside you, and you couldn’t help but do as he said.

His lips found your neck again as he aligned his tip with your entrance making you tense up. “relax honey” his hand started circling your nipple.

He finally thrusted into you, letting you accommodate to his size. He was massive, bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with.

He started to move, picking out his pace, slow but steady. “aaron- faster please” you pleaded.

“oh you like it rough huh?” he cocked his eyebrow up. He flips you on your stomach pressing his large hand on your lower back to make your back arch.

You were a moaning mess. He rammed his cock in your pussy at an ungodly pace, hitting that spongy spot inside that made you mewl.

Aaron wasn’t the one to come quickly, but your sweet noises accompanied by the noises your sweet pussy was making around his cock was like a symphony, music to his ears.

His hands dug into your hips so hard he was sure it would leave marks. He wanted that. He wanted to mask you as his.

His strong hand moved to your front where he started circling your clit making you moan even louder.

“fu- aaron yes god! i’m gonna c-“ you interrupted yourself with pornographic moans.

“cmon baby let it go, make a mess on my cock.”

that was all you needed. You were sure you’d never had a better orgasm before, your pussy clenched around his cock making him cross the finish line too, you could feel thick spurts of come pairing your walls.

Aaron pulled out mesmerised by the mixture of your cums together. Two of his fingers collected the dripping come and pushing it back inside, groaning loudly. The overstimulation make you whinge.

After Aaron had cleaned you up and made you go to the bathroom (reid had told him about the dangers of utis after sex), you found yourselves cuddled in eachothers arms.

Your soft breathing acting like a sleeping pill for Aaron, and he was sure this was the best nights sleep he’s had in a while.

It became a problem that he tasted you because now he would never let you go.

OH MY GOD GUYS!! this was so hard to write😭 i love reading smut but writing it, not so much!! i gross myself out💔 HOPE YOU LOVED THIS PART please lmk down in the comments I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCHHH💞💞 xoxo

@mrs-ssa-hotch

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irisinluv · 9 months ago

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Yandere Stardew Valley- Sebastian

I've been playing some Yandere Stardew mods recently. While I love them..... I feel like they do my husband (Sebastian) wrong. The citizens of Pelican Town are telling me that they can't hang out with me because Sebstian threatened them. That they've noticed some weird behavior. That he's physically violent. I disagree with all of these for Sebby.

He's our hot programmer boyfriend who lives in his basement bedroom, and only emerges to enjoy a smoke break, or to go see his friends. Now, while again, I do enjoy playing the mods...... I think his cannon behavior sets him up to be the perfect chronically online yandere. Pelican Town isn't exactly the most connected (6 out of the 11 rivals have access to a computer), but there's still potential. Obviously they're gonners if they have a computer. Sam finds himself doxed after making a comment about the gifts you gave him this week, and poor Haley's socials are blowing up with hate comments- from her personal insta to her photography blog.

But what about the other 5? The ones who are more disconnected? Well. It's easy enough to get Shane fired from joja. A little email to Morris from "HQ" saying he either fires Shane or his own pay gets docked..... well. Suddenly, everyone's favorite alcoholic doesn't even have a job anymore. Elliott suddenly has all these taxes he hasn't paid on his little shack..... beachfront properties cost a lot, you know. The parents stop letting Penny watch their kids after some..... explicit photos get leaked. It doesn't matter that they're edited. These people don't know about Photoshop. All they know is apparently Penny's making ends meet to support her mother..... and there's a new favorite subject to gossip on between all the older women. The other rivals are equally taken care of. All you need to focus on now is how Sebastian is the only reliable option in the whole damn town.

And he knows you so well, doesn't he? You, who lived away from it all until now. You, who WAS connected to the internet. Who had their entire life detailed through Facebook updates and Instagram posts. Honestly, Sebastian thinks that maybe he DOESN'T need to leave Pelican town... looking at the life you lived before coming to the valley, he thinks its much easier to keep you safe when he can control everything that goes on. There were too many factors to your old life. Too many parties to go to, coworkers to talk to, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends worry about. No. Sebastian thinks that city life isn't fit for the two of you to start you life together.

While he enjoyed seeing the trip down memory lane of who you were before becoming the farmer, and learning more about your likes and dislikes, he much prefers this version of you. The version of you who he found bouncing on their toes outside his door, excitedly shoving a frozen tear at him. Who eventually became the only person he was genuinely excited to have come barging into his room unannounced. And the thought of moving into the farm with you was all together far too tempting. He can picture it already. He'd set up a little area to work on his bike, he'd help out around the farm for you (he saw your hands covered in scrapes and splinters one day, and you sheepishly told him your fences had started wearing down.... but fixing a fence was another first for you. So you ended up scraping yourself up a bit on the old wood. Now, Sebastain, who, while he doesn't enjoy it, grew up with a carpenter mother..... well. He's going to make sure you never have that many splinters again.) Oh and he can already imagine it. The two of you, far away from the rest of the town, from prying eyes, no one to hear what you two would get up to as he helped you relax after a long day of working the feilds.....

This fantasy would sustain him until you eventually asked him to marry you. I don't think he would rush anything. To you, and the rest of the citizens, he was just normal Sebastian. Showing up for band practice, playing pool at the bar (although he seemed to play much better when a certain farmer came to watch). He just realized that the best way to control all the factors in town would be to remain anonymous. Avoid suspicion. After all. In a small town like that, it would be all too easy to turn against him if he decided to publicly threaten someone. And how would you react if you came to drop off some fresh sashimi to your boyfriend, only to find him being dragged out of his house by Clint, with Marlon standing nearby, ready to ship him off to face justice in the adventurers guild? No. That wouldn't do. He can't add any more stress to you like that. He'd remain the puppeteer, pulling the strings of the valley.

This isn't to say Sebastian never stalks you in person or anything like that. He can't help himself. He's a night owl. He knows the villagers schedules, has since before you even came to town. So, he knows he can get away with digging in the trash to find the straw you threw away at the bar. And if someone does hear him.... well. Linus is going to be everyone's first thought. He does, however, start adopting a stricter routine as far as monitoring your house after you mention how you sell your produce.

Sebastian was rightfully horrified when you explained that Mayor Lewis comes by your farm at night to collect anything you wish to sell. How it's such a relief to be able to just chuck things in the the bin as you're rushing to bed at 1:50 in the morning, only to get up first thing and start your day again, and not have to worry about lugging all your goods to the store. Sebastian won't criticize you for the lack of sleep..... no. That's not what's worrying. What's worrying is that this old man who has a gold statue of himself and who gets it on in the bushes with his secret girlfriend (of course Sebastian knows about that) is showing up to your house sometime after 2 am. His mind flashes back to his fantasy of the two of you, completely alone on the farm.... and then is mortified as this fantasy morphs into a nightmare where he looks up from bed with you, and sees Lewis' wrinkled face peering through the window. Yea. No. Sebastain installs some hidden cameras to make sure Lewis doesn't get up to anything funny while you're defenseless, asleep, alone..... ok he might need to get a new mayor elected. The old man might just have to go. Perhaps to a home outside the town. Regardless, he makes sure Lewis stops coming by as frequently. Frustratingly, he isn't able to completely stop it, but that'll be an easy fix once the two of you are married. He'll act surprised, "wow Lewis, that's so kind of you to help out the farmer all this time. But hey, don't worry, I'll take over. I'm up late anyways, and it's the least I can do!" But Sebastian still wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically rushes to check the cameras, making sure you're OK. That Lewis really is just checking the shipping bin.

Once y'all get married, he shows a bit more of that possessive side to you. But you chalk it up to just bedroom spicy time, and honestly find his hand tightening on your waist as Elliot asks you to read his latest poem hot.

Just. Yandere Sebastian brain rot.

#yandere #yandere stardew valley #yandere blog #yandere imagine #tw yandere #obsessive yandere #stardew valley #yandere sebastian #obsessive love #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #irl yandere #irl darling #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling

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ssa-dado · 2 months ago

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7 - Cogito, ergo Sum

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: slow burn, sad just sad stuff, angst

Summary: On a train to Riverhead, you confront buried memories of your father’s death and the complex emotions stirred by Peter’s welcome back party, where Hotch’s past with Haley left you feeling like an outsider. Hotch, haunted by memories of his abusive father and first love with Haley, grapples with his choices and regrets. Meanwhile, Hotch and Peter clash over your safety and personal boundaries on the job, discovering the next target of a series of poisonings. Warnings: Grief, domestic violence, emotional abuse, anxiety, CM case. This is quite sad

Word Count: 4.5k

Dado's Corner: Not me sobbing like a kid while writing this haha. Poor Aaron you deserve a hug. That said, I experimented a bit with the style of this chapter - it's quite cinematic. I drew inspiration from Suits' 2×08 where Harvey goes to visit his father's grave and the narrative interlaces flashbacks, present and the characters' point of view so beautifully. Also - this has a sister chapter coming up next so don't worry.

previous chapter ; masterlist

The train rattled gently as it made its way toward your hometown, Riverhead, each passing mile pulling you deeper into a past you had long avoided. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks was a steady, relentless metronome, marking each second that brought you closer to face your father’s grave.

You glanced up to see a little girl holding her father’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his as they made their way to a seat just past yours. The sight was simple, ordinary - something that happened every day - but today, it felt like a punch to the chest.

Watching them, you felt the train become a catalyst for everything you’d been trying to bury; the pain surged, raw and unfiltered, hitting you all at once. The easy affection between them, was a reminder of what you could never have again. Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill as you stared at the floor, trying to swallow the ache of everything you’d lost. In that fleeting moment, the emptiness of your own hands felt unbearable, as if the absence of your father’s presence echoed a thousand times harder in the quiet hum of the train.

You stared out of the window, but the passing trees and fading buildings blurred into the background, their muted colors mingling with the fog of your thoughts. You’d taken the rare step of taking a day off to make this journey, a day that was supposed to be about finding some semblance of closure, or at least confronting the loss you’d tucked away behind your work.

But you hadn’t been able to think only of your father. Your mind kept drifting back to Peter’s welcome back party the previous week. Where you sat at the table, Gideon’s words lingering in the air, the concept of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis feeling painfully apt in that moment.

“Everyone, this is Haley,” Hotch said, his voice carefully controlled. “We… we go way back.”

Only now you could clearly see at how Haley smiled, but her eyes were constantly on Hotch, her presence radiating a sense of ease that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. “It’s been a long time, Aaron,” she said, her tone gentle but layered with unspoken memories. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You watched the interaction with a heavy heart, feeling like an outsider in your own team. The connection between them was undeniable, and for a moment, you felt a pang of jealousy, a sharp twist in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You had just started to let your guard down with Hotch, to allow yourself to see him not just as your stoic coworker who would crack a joke every once in a while - but as someone you could trust, someone who understood you. And now, here was a piece of his past that you hadn’t been privy to, thrown in your face without warning.

As the evening wore on, you tried to engage, to laugh at Rossi’s jokes and nod along with Gideon’s stories, but your mind kept drifting back to Hotch and Haley. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of not knowing this part of him, of realizing that no matter how close you’d gotten, there were still walls between you.

At one point, Hotch caught your eye from across the table. His expression softened, a silent question in his gaze, as if he could sense your discomfort. But before he could say anything, Haley leaned in, pulling his attention back to her, and the moment passed.

Gideon, ever observant, leaned closer to you, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over you.

“You know, Y/N,” he said thoughtfully, tapping the cover of the book you’d bought for Hotch, “Hegel’s all about finding balance. Sometimes, the only way forward is to let go of what you thought you knew and embrace the contradictions.”

You nodded, but the words felt too close to home. You weren’t sure how to find balance in this moment, how to reconcile the sudden wave of emotions crashing over you. All you could do was hold on and hope that, somehow, things would make sense again.

Now your mind was buzzing with a mix of emotions: shock, confusion, and a sinking feeling of being completely blindsided. It was in the way Hotch and Haley exchanged glances, the comfortable proximity, the shared history etched in every small gesture. It hurt more than you’d ever thought it would, making everything sounded distant, muffled, like you were underwater.

The gathering had been a lively affair, full of laughter and shared stories, but a specific moment kept replaying in your mind: Haley’s warm smile as she said goodbye to Hotch, “It was really good to see you, Aaron, I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Hotch nodded, his expression warm yet tinged with a hint of sadness. “Yeah, Haley. Take care of yourself. See you around.”

With that, she gave a small wave to the table and headed back to her group of friends, leaving Hotch standing there, momentarily lost in the past. As he returned to his seat, you could see the way he was grappling with the emotions stirred up by the unexpected reunion. He caught your gaze briefly, offering a small, almost apologetic smile that only deepened your sense of uncertainty.

As she walked away, Rossi had thrown a smirk Hotch’s way, raising an eyebrow as he quipped, “So, old flames burning bright again?”

Hotch rolled his eyes, though there was a faint, embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “Rossi, don’t start,” he warned, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Rossi continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Haley’s quite a catch. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a little lovestruck.”

Hotch sighed, but there was a softness to his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not like that, Dave. We… had our time. It just didn’t work out. She wanted a family, a stable life. I was too caught up in my career, trying to make it into the Bureau. We were just… heading in different directions.”

There was a pause as the table absorbed his words, the rare glimpse into Hotch’s personal life catching everyone a little off guard. You could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes, the acknowledgment of choices made and paths taken, and it resonated deeply with you. It wasn’t just about Haley; it was about the sacrifices, the regrets, and the constant pull between duty and desire.

You had stood on the sidelines, listening, and telling yourself it wasn’t jealousy you felt, but something else entirely. Hotch and Haley’s history was full of things you couldn’t touch, memories you couldn’t rewrite.

The ease between them that felt unreachable, at least for you. It highlighted your own struggles, the way you and Hotch danced around each other’s guarded edges, each too closed off and too stubborn for way too much to admit the walls you’d built were anything but necessary. You had worked hard to break through those barriers, inching closer to something that resembled real friendship with Hotch, but seeing him with Haley made it clear how far you still had to go.

One of your coworkers, ever the instigator, smirked and raised their glass, turning the conversation light again. “Ah, first loves. We’ve all been there, right? High school sweethearts, college crushes, and then… life happens.”

They nudged Peter playfully, their grin widening. “I bet you’ve got some stories, too. You and Y/N? Seems like you two have your own history.”

The comment, though playful, struck a chord. You could feel all eyes momentarily on you and Peter, the unspoken insinuations hanging in the air. Peter chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. “Oh, come on, let’s not dig up the past. Y/N and I? We were just kids. We studied, we got into trouble, and then we grew up.”

Rossi, always enjoying a chance to stir the pot, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? ‘Just kids,’ huh? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Seems like more than just studying to me.”

Peter shot you a sideways glance, his smile both teasing and sincere. “Well, you know me, Dave. Always mixing business with pleasure.”

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your ears. “Please, don’t encourage him. Peter was more like the annoying older brother I never asked for.”

The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, the awkwardness eased. But underneath it all, there was a thread of unspoken tension, a reminder that you and Peter’s relationship, much like Hotch and Haley’s, was layered with complexities that no amount of jokes could untangle.

Hotch watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it understanding? Regret? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was clear he was processing his own thoughts amidst the lighthearted teasing. The parallels between his past and what was unfolding now weren’t lost on him.

Then memories shifted, drawing you deeper into the party’s ambiance: the clinking of glasses, the chatter of old friends reuniting, and Peter’s infectious laugh as he moved through the crowd.

You remembered the moment he found you in the corner of the room, handing you a glass of wine with a casual, “So, are you ever going to let me take you out on that date?”

You had laughed it off, deflecting with a joke. “You’d have to catch me when I’m not buried in case files.”

Peter’s smile had softened, and he leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes searching yours in that disarming way he had. “I’m patient. You know that.”

There it was, an offer that seemed perfect on paper. Peter was kind, funny, and someone you could talk to for hours without feeling the need to perform or pretend. He had always been a constant, someone who understood your messy family dynamics and never judged you for them. Yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite name, you had hesitated.

It wasn’t just fear that a relationship might ruin your friendship, though that was part of it. No, this hesitation was something deeper, something that had started to shift within you over the months you’d been at the BAU.

The job had changed you, had made you see the world differently, and maybe that change had rippled into the way you saw Peter, too. He was familiar, a comfort you could rely on, but when he looked at you with that earnestness, you felt a strange dissonance, like you were two notes that no longer harmonized as they once did.

You shook off the thought and turned back to the scenery, trying to refocus. The landscape outside shifted, becoming a blur of rolling hills and scattered houses, but all you could see were memories of the afternoons you’d spent with Peter.

He was a piece of your past that felt safe, steady, and uncomplicated. You remembered the day he’d chosen your mother as his thesis supervisor, the excitement in his eyes as he explained why.

“She’s brilliant,” he had told you, sitting at your kitchen table, his hands animated as he spoke. “I mean, I’ve read everything she’s published. Working with her is like… I don’t know, getting to play with a master.”

Your mother had smirked from the kitchen, where she was brewing tea. “I’m not sure if ‘play’ is the word I’d use,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m glad you’re eager. I could use someone with your enthusiasm.”

Those afternoons felt like moments frozen in time, filled with academic debates that stretched into the evening. You would sit with Peter, surrounded by books and papers, discussing everything from human behavior to obscure psychological theories. Your mother would occasionally join in, her sharp insights cutting through Peter’s eager optimism, and you would feel an odd sense of belonging, of being seen and understood in a way that was rare. You and Peter fit so easily then, like two pieces of a puzzle that made sense together.

So why now, when Peter had finally asked, did you feel that familiar comfort turn into something that almost felt suffocating? It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was something more complex, more tangled.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but whatever it was, it had kept you from saying yes. Part of you wondered if it had to do with the person you’d become at the BAU, the person who had learned to live in the shadows, to thrive on the unspoken and the unsolved. There was a distance between the you that Peter knew and the you that existed now, and you weren’t sure how to bridge that gap.

As the train chugged closer to Riverhead, you let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of your own thoughts settle in your chest. This trip was supposed to be about your father, about facing the memories you’d buried along with him. But as the scenery continued to blur outside your window, you realized it wasn’t just him you were here to confront. It was yourself, and all the tangled, unresolved things you’d left behind.

Back in his apartment, Hotch stood motionless in front of his closet, the faint hum of the city outside barely reaching his ears. It was supposed to be a simple, mindless task: changing out of his work clothes, slipping into something comfortable to signal the end of another long case. But that morning, the weight of the past lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, refusing to be ignored. Seeing Haley again had shaken something loose inside him, memories that he had tried to bury beneath layers of duty, responsibility, and the unyielding armor of his carefully crafted stoicism.

He stared at the closet door as if it were a portal to another time, a past version of himself that he had spent years trying to forget. His hand hovered over a hanger, hesitating before he finally pulled the door open. He reached for a pair of sweatpants, the movement automatic, but his fingers brushed against something unexpected, something soft and familiar. He pulled it out, holding it up to the dim light of the room. It was an old pirate hat, worn and faded, buried at the back of the closet like a forgotten relic.

The sight of it was enough to send a rush of emotion coursing through him, his heart tightening with the weight of memories long left untouched. It was a small, silly thing - a costume piece from a high school play - but it held the echoes of a time when life had felt simpler, when love had been a lifeline rather than a distant, unattainable dream.

Hotch turned the hat over in his hands, his thumb tracing the worn edges. It felt lighter than he remembered, the fabric frayed but still holding the shape that had once made him feel like someone else - someone braver, someone who didn’t wake up every day terrified of what the morning might bring.

Holding it now, he was transported back to those days in high school, when he had first met Haley during their school’s production of The Pirates of Penzance. He could still remember the nerves that twisted his stomach into knots as he stepped onto the stage, feeling every bit the awkward, shy boy who never quite knew how to fit in.

His father’s presence loomed over every aspect of his life, a dark, volatile force that made every day feel like a minefield. Mornings were the worst; he’d wake up before dawn, his heart pounding with the dread that his father would already be up, the stale stench of whiskey on his breath and anger simmering just below the surface.

Every morning, Hotch would lie still in his bed, his ears straining to hear the slightest sound - a creaking floorboard, the clink of a bottle, the unmistakable thud of something heavy being thrown against the wall. He’d close his eyes tightly, his breath catching in his throat as he braced himself for the inevitable: the harsh sound of his father’s voice, slurred and laced with venom, cutting through the stillness of the house like a knife.

“You worthless piece of shit,” his father would sneer, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched. The insults were always the same, a relentless barrage of contempt that felt like punches to the gut. And sometimes, they were. The bruises left behind were easy to hide, but the fear lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

But then there was Haley.

Haley, with her bright smile and infectious laugh, had entered his life like a beam of light piercing through the darkness. She was everything his world was not: warm, kind, and unafraid to be herself. He could still see her as she had been that first day, standing backstage with an easy confidence that seemed to light up the entire room. He had been fumbling through his lines, tripping over words as he tried to keep his hands from shaking, feeling the familiar grip of anxiety clawing at his throat. But then she had turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Not bad, Hotchner,” she teased, her voice light and teasing, breaking through the wall of his self-doubt.

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, her touch gentle but grounding. “But if you’re going to be a pirate, you’ve got to look the part.” She reached up and tilted the hat on his head, adjusting it with a flourish. “There. Much better.”

He had laughed then, a rare, unguarded sound that felt almost foreign to his own ears. It was a laugh born of something deeper than humor - it was relief, joy, and a sense of being seen in a way he never had been before. That moment had been the start of everything: the stolen glances, the whispered secrets shared between classes, the way she’d lean in close, her eyes bright with something that made the whole world seem less terrifying.

Haley became his first thought in the morning, replacing the dread that had once greeted him when he opened his eyes. Instead of the anxiety that his father would be there, ready to strike, his mind was filled with thoughts of her: the way she smiled, the sound of her voice, the softness of her lips whenever they kissed, the easy way she’d tease him about his nervousness on stage. She was his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t drowning in his own fears.

Every morning, instead of waking up with his heart racing at the thought of his father’s rage, he’d wake up thinking of Haley. He’d think of their rehearsals, of the way she’d roll her eyes when he messed up a line but would always follow it with a grin that told him she was proud of him anyway. She had made him feel safe, like maybe, there was more to life than the fear that had defined his every waking moment.

Hotch hadn’t just fallen in love with Haley; he had clung to her like a lifeline. She was the first person who had shown him what it felt like to be cared for, to be valued for who he was, not for what he could endure. She was his sanctuary from the storm that raged inside his home, and for a while, she had made him believe that he could have something good, something real.

But as he stood there now, holding the hat, those memories were tinged with the bittersweet realization of what he had lost. The love that had once saved him had crumbled under the relentless weight of his ambition and the demands of his career.

He had chosen the Bureau, chosen to bury himself in the pursuit of justice, thinking that if he worked hard enough, if he dedicated himself to the job, he could finally be free of the shadows that haunted him.

But in the process, he had lost Haley. He had lost the last piece of innocence that had made him believe he could balance it all: love, career, and a future untangled from the pain of his past. Now, the hat felt like a symbol of everything he had tried to bury, a reminder of the boy he used to be and the love that had once made him feel whole.

Hotch closed his eyes, a wave of grief and regret washing over him as he placed the hat gently back in the closet. The memories of Haley, of the warmth she had brought into his life, were still there, but they were shrouded in the painful truth that he had let her slip away. He had spent so long running from the fear of his father, trying to replace it with something brighter, but in the end, he had pushed away the very thing that had saved him

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the present. “Hotchner,” he said, masking the turmoil beneath his usual calm.

Gideon’s voice came through the line, urgent and clipped. “We’ve got a situation. A series of poisonings in Long Island, targeting public spaces. Libraries, parks, shopping centers. It’s escalating, and the unsub’s leaving messages. We need you here, now.”

Hotch glanced back at the pirate hat before slamming the closet shut. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he replied, shoving the memories aside as he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. There was no time to dwell on the past; the present demanded his full attention.

At the BAU, the team gathered around the conference table as Gideon outlined the details of the case. The poisonings were strategic, each attack aimed at places where people gathered, spreading panic through the community. The unsub’s taunts came in the form of cryptic messages, each one hinting at the next target.

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he scanned the crime scene photos, feeling the familiar pull of duty override everything else.

“We’re splitting up,” Gideon said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Hotch, you and Peter will head to the latest crime scene. Rossi and I will cover the first.”

Hotch nodded, his face impassive as he gathered his things. He was already mentally mapping out the approach, compartmentalizing the emotional weight of the morning. But as they drove, Peter, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, tried to break the tension.

“You know, about that bet I won,” Peter began, glancing over at Hotch with a hint of a smile. “The date… with her. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it special.”

Hotch’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, his expression tightening at Peter’s words. The mention of you - the team member who had started to break through the cracks in his own carefully guarded exterior - sent a surge of conflicting emotions through him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Have you really thought this through?” Hotch asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “You and her, both in the field, both seeing the worst of what people are capable of… it’s not as easy as you think.”

Peter shrugged, trying to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a defensive edge creeping in. “We’ve always been good at separating things. She gets it - she’s smart, one of the smartest people I know. We can handle it.”

Hotch’s frustration boiled over, his tone sharpening. “It’s not about being smart, Peter. This job… it changes you. It gets into your head, your heart. And you’re fooling yourself if you think it won’t affect you both. What happens when you’re forced to make a choice - her safety or the job? How do you keep that from clouding your judgment?”

Peter’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked toward Hotch, the beginnings of anger flashing across his face. “You don’t think I know that? You think I haven’t thought about it every damn day since I realized I wanted more with her? At least I’m honest about where I stand. I’m not hiding behind this job like it’s the only thing that matters.”

The tension between them was palpable, the car’s interior charged with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. Hotch’s gaze remained fixed on the road, but his mind was racing. Peter’s words hit closer to home than he cared to admit, scraping against wounds that had never fully healed. Peter’s willingness to embrace his feelings, to take the leap Hotch had always hesitated to make, stung in a way that was hard to articulate.

“You don’t get it, Peter,” Hotch said finally, his voice quieter, more resigned. “You have no idea what it’s like to live with the consequences of those choices. I’ve seen what it does to people, how it tears them apart. This job… it doesn’t let you have a normal life, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter stared at him, searching for something in Hotch’s expression that he couldn’t quite find. “Maybe not. But I’d rather take the risk than spend my life wondering what could have been.”

They lapsed into silence, the argument left hanging between them, unresolved. Hotch felt the weight of Peter’s words settle heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the guilt and regret that had been simmering beneath the surface since seeing Haley again.

He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he even had the right to. Peter’s defiance, his willingness to fight for what he wanted, was a painful reminder of the choices Hotch had made and the things he had lost in the process.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Hotch pushed all of it down, shoving the emotions into that familiar place he rarely let himself go. The crime scene was chaotic, with officers milling about, evidence markers scattered across the library floor.

Hotch’s keen eyes scanned the room, piecing together the unsub’s method, the subtle clues left behind. But something caught his attention: a bulletin board crowded with flyers and notes, too chaotic at first glance, but hiding something.

He moved closer, pulling back layers of paper until he found it: a cryptic message, written in neat, deliberate script. As he read the words, his blood ran cold, the implications settling like lead in his stomach.

The riddle painted a clear picture of the next target. Hotch’s hands trembled slightly as he stepped back, the reality sinking in.

Riverhead.

The place you were right now.

Without a word, Hotch turned and sprinted out of the building, his heart pounding with a fear that went far beyond the professional. This wasn’t just another case. It was personal, and every second mattered.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader

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greg-montgomery · 1 year ago

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any other world - part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader - soulmate au

series masterlist

A/N: there’s no cheating in this story i promise

this chapter is nsfw! minors pls dni

(21)

The sound of another thunder startled you and almost caused you to spill red wine all over the place as you emptied the bottle inside your glass.

Aaron had big plans for that night, fancy restaurant and everything, but the heavy thunderstorm left you no choice but to stay in. You genuinely didn’t mind. You loved nights in with him, feeling like he was only for you.

Full from the pizza you had made earlier, he was laying on the floor with his head on your lap, staring up at you with a drunken smile. You took a big sip from your glass and ran your finger across his face, starting from his forehead, going down his nose and reaching his lips.

He grabbed your hand and brought your wrist to his lips, and as if he was some kind of vampire he bit your wrist. “I wish I could just chew these two letters up and spit them out,” he said, referring to the initials of your own soulmate.

“Can you chew up yours too while you’re at it?”

Aaron reached his hand up to your face and rubbed his thumb on your cheek. “Do you ever get jealous of her?”

“All the time.”

“I’m jealous of the bastard you haven’t even met yet too.”

You grinned at his words, and the gentle stroke on the side of your face turned into a grab of your chin. “You enjoy that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Mhm…” you said, nodding.

He sat up and brought his face close to yours, staring at your lips. “Torturing me…ever since I can remember us.”

“Aw, my poor boy…” you cooed, and gave him a sweet kiss. Already dizzy - a little from the wine and a little from Aaron’s mouth on you - you accidentally spilled what was left in your glass on his shirt.

“Shit, sorry!”

“The lengths you go to just to see me shirtless...” he said, shaking his head in disapproval before taking his shirt off.

You giggled and threw yourself into his arms, quietly begging for another kiss. He was more than happy to give it to you.

“Can I take you here, on the floor?” he whispered.

“Please.”

He gently laid you down and you observed him, letting him undress you and himself.

Growing a bit possessive of him after the events of that year wasn’t something you could really blame yourself for. Staring at him and seeing that deep desire in his eyes made you feel good about yourself. You were the one he wanted so desperately to see naked, you were the one making him hard, you were the one that would make him feel good.

But you weren’t the only one growing possessive. Ever since your own mark had appeared, Aaron was leaving marks all over your body as if it was a competition. Yes you had another man’s initials on your wrist, but it was Aaron’s mouth that had touched every part of your body, and those marks were the evidence.

You wrapped your legs around him and let him fuck you slowly, welcoming every word of praise he would give you.

“You take me so well.”

“Fuck you feel good.”

“Made for me, weren’t you?”

You could swear that sometimes his voice felt as good as his cock.

(22)

“Aaron!”

A familiar voice stopped him from walking into the bookshop he had his eye on. The girl had raised her hand to catch his attention, in case her calling out his name wasn’t enough. Her excited smile made him almost sad, so he put on a happy smile to match her energy.

“Haley…I haven’t seen you in a while. How you’ve been?”

“I’m good! Just got a new job, so I’m spending my first paycheck as a reward,” she laughed, and showed him the bags she was holding.

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Well, no better feeling, is there?”

“Nope.” Her smile met her eyes. “How are you?” she asked.

“Good. Shopping as well,” he answered, hesitating to get into more details. Maybe it would be hurtful to tell her he was shopping for his girlfriend’s birthday.

Haley had been really understanding and respectful of his feelings, and he didn’t want to hurt hers any further than he already had.

“Books?” she asked, pointing at the bookshop they were standing outside of.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I join you?”

[11.59 pm]

Your phone was in your hand, waiting for your boyfriend to call. He’d call you and sing happy birthday in a very dramatic and very off key tone exactly at midnight, and right after he’d show up with an equally dramatic bouquet of flowers.

It had been a tradition for eight years now and even though you teased him for being too much, you loved that kind of attention on your special day. He never failed to make you feel like a princess.

But then midnight hit, and your phone didn’t ring. Not five minutes later, not ten, not even fifteen.

At exactly 12.30 am, your doorbell rang instead.

Aaron was hiding behind a huge bouquet of roses.

It was just thirty minutes. It was just the half of an hour. It isn’t important. It doesn’t mean anything.

You kept repeating that to yourself when he apologized for being late, for breaking the tradition, for getting you worried. You repeated it when he gave you a first edition of your favorite book. You repeated it when he hugged you, and the scent of another woman’s perfume on his coat made your stomach drop.

(45)

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Aaron hadn’t heard your voice in such a long time, that you talking to him would have melted him entirely if it wasn’t for the context of your words. Were you in danger?

He opened his mouth but his voice wouldn’t come out.

“Can we come in?” you asked, your own voice trembling.

We?

His eyes travelled down your body and they caught something moving under your long coat. A tiny arm was wrapped around your leg and a pair of beautiful eyes that looked just like yours looked up at him.

“Of course,” he finally answered.

He stepped aside and made room so you could walk inside his house. You took the hand of the little girl that was attached to your body and entered his home.

A burning feeling of protectiveness took over his chest. If someone had hurt the two of you, he would make sure they’d never see the light of the day again.

He checked the hallway for any suspicious movement and after making sure it was safe, he followed you into the house and locked his door.

“Y/N,” he said, but you raised your hand to cut him off.

“I’ll explain everything. We’re fine. I just…I needed a safe place…and some legal advice.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“My husband. Ex-husband.”

His blood boiled. If that man had laid a hand on you or your daughter he would burn him alive.

“Are you alone?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s just me and my son. He’s sleeping.”

A sweet expression appeared on your face at the mention of his son. He could relate to the feeling of seeing the person you grew up with being a parent.

You were kids just yesterday. And now you had your own.

Your little girl was looking up at him, with an intimidated expression. He was aware that his large frame and angry eyebrows could maybe scare a kid. So he walked closer, squatted down and smiled at her.

“Hello, little one.”

She waved instead of replying, but that was enough for him. She seemed more shy that scared.

“I’m Hotch. What’s your name?” he asked, gently.

“Leila.”

Aaron looked up at you, and found you already staring at him. He knew that the same memory of the two of you planning your future had flashed in front of your eyes.

“Nice to meet you Leila. You’re safe here with me, okay?”

She nodded her head a few times. “Okay. Mommy said you are best friends.”

“We are,” he answered, without a second thought.

tag list: @magical-spit @lilsunshine1092 @hiraethrhapsody @cult-of-enji-todoroki @emo-markie @jxvipike @ttokkisbee @geminitapestry @rae-pottah @the-night-viewer @i-am-funsize @louderfortheback @hasu-ko @rousethemouse @hotchs-bitch

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #any other world #hotch 🪐

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indigowallbreaker · 8 months ago

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In before the update tomorrow

Here are my predictions/wishlist Stardew Valley 1.6 update! These range from "could happen" to "just let me dream":

Children aging past toddlerhood; gain ability to change their outfits

Another set of romanceable NPCs (eyeing Sandy and the Wizard particularly)

More post-marriage dialogue/events. Like an anniversary date

Festivals changing as the years go on. For example: after getting 8 hearts with Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian, maybe their band plays at the Stardew Valley Fair; the governor brings his wife to the Luau the year after you make the soup taste Delish

The ability to properly befriend certain NPCs like Marlon and Gunther

Separate screen to keep track of farm animals, similar to villager screen in the menu (helpful to me when I play a file I haven't logged into in a while and discover after 3 in-game days that I have sheep)

Non-binary farmer option

Please let me interact with the stuff in the community center I spent my whole file trying to fix

NPCs will repeat dialogue to you after you've spoken to them already during a festival to avoid the creepy situation of wandering around an event and not being able to speak with anyone like they've suddenly become statues and you're the only living thing left in town

Other bachelors/bachelorettes getting together after you're married (little bit of the old Harvest Moon rival system)

More NPCs that move to town the longer you live there, like Kent arriving in Year 2

Morris shows up every once in a while after you complete the Center just so you can appreciate how much you ruined this man's whole life. Or he experiences Growth from being in the Valley, whichever

Heart events occurring more than once. For example: replaying Abigail and Sebastian's gaming/RPG heart events; Leah can hold more than one art show to sell exclusive art; Elliot will have a new book for you to hear an excerpt from every year or so; help Penny teach the kids again; etc.

More ways to increase max health

Could I have a birthday please Mr. Ape ;_;

Fix the "Leek Surprise Gift" cutscene unlocked after Evelyn's special request so that I don't wanna crack George over the head afterwards just because I picked the dialogue option that would give his poor wife credit

Make George Nice To His Wife Every Once In A While patch

Option to fist fight certain villagers, either instigated by them when their friendship gets too low or instigated by you if you've just always hated them and wanna do something about it

At 10 hearts Jodi runs away to travel with Emily and Haley's parents because apparently no one on that street actually wanted to be a parent

Give me ten good reasons Willy can't adopt me

#Stardew valley #mine #stardew #cannot WAIT to see how many of these are way off base usagcvisdahf #first on the list was gonna be a new farm map but ape already said there would be one so it feels like a cheap shot #can you tell whomst I'd wanna punch most it's Jodi #readmores are for paying costumers

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luveline · 5 months ago

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Hii, I absolutely love your Hotch fics in which he meets his adult daughter. Could we get one in which she is feeling down about something and he helps/reassures her?💕💕

It’s difficult to foster a relationship with someone when you don’t get to see them. Even harder when the relationship is with your father who didn’t know you existed for over two decades, and who works as a Special Agent in the FBI, spending half of his life in other states.

Lately it feels impossible.

He’s just never home. When he is, he can't make it to dinner. You start to feel exactly as you had before you knew him, alone again, working hard to keep up in class, drained from your part time job, and always tired.

You should stay home and sleep, but tonight, your dad is free for dinner.

You wait on the corner of the street in the golden light of the restaurant. It’s chilly out, and the sky is slowly darkening. You watch the road for the shape and bulk of Aaron’s SUV, relieved to see him on the way past. He parks in the parking lot, making a small stop into the trunk of the car before he makes his way toward you.

He’s carrying a little white teddy bear wrapped in pink heart cellophane.

You know it’s for you, but it’s still sweet enough to surprise you when he smiles at you and encourages it into your hands. “Hello,” he says, wrapping one arm around you quickly as he kisses your cheek.

It’s always a shock, but never unwelcome.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Let’s go in, yes?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stay out here. Were you waiting a long time?”

You let him walk you to the entrance, where he gives his name to the hostess for the reservation, and together you follow her to a small table near a bay window. The trees outside are strung with tea lights. The restaurant smells like nutty chocolate ganache. You mentioned that you liked the desserts here the first time he brought you, and he’s continued to bring you here ever since.

You are undoubtedly getting to know one another. You’ve met Haley three times, and Jack five. You had dinner together only two weeks ago where he tried to show you how to keep spaghetti on your fork while failing to manage it himself. He was sweet, and Aaron was really good with him.

You’d been jealous.

“What’s the bear for?” you ask.

“I’m trying to buy your forgiveness. Is it working?”

You laugh without thinking. “My forgiveness?”

“Sometimes, when I don’t see Jack for a long time, he gets frosty with me. I know it’s poor parenting but I’ll bring home a souvenir in the hopes he won’t stay mad.”

“This is a souvenir?” you ask.

He sits with good posture, but his face is ducked apologetically. It’s a kind sort of look, like he really is sorry. “I think I owe you more than that.”

This regret he’s expressed before. You truly believe that he wishes he could go back in time and be there for you, which might be why it aches to think about it in detail. He wanted to be the loving, doting father. He just didn’t get the chance.

“It sort of… breaks my heart sometimes, when I see you,” you say.

It’s a lot. You haven’t even ordered your drinks.

“It does?” he asks gently.

“I wish…” You bite the inside of your cheek. Shake your head when you can’t finish.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think about it a lot. I resent your mother.”

She’s your mother, but yes. “I do, too.”

You listen to the clatter of the kitchen somewhere deep in the building and the indistinguishable chatter of other families and dates where they sit around you. Your hand closes tightly on a napkin.

“Are you okay? You look tired, honey.”

“Must be a Hotchner thing,” you say.

He laughs like you haven’t just slighted him. “It definitely is. I’m getting the sense that you’re upset about more than your mother, though.”

“How would you know?” you ask genuinely.

It’s his party trick. You’re expecting a rundown: your hand moves a quarter inch to the left and shows your upset, or your nose twitches to betray your true feelings. But he doesn’t need to use his special set of agent skills on you tonight.

“You won’t look at me for very long. It’s exactly like your brother.”

You sniff ineffectually. “It is?”

He looks especially solemn, then. “I wish we didn’t miss out on so much with each other, but I’m here now, if you want me. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll listen.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve always heard worse.” He manages a smile. “Not that what you’re feeling isn’t important.”

“Well, I… it’s mostly the little things. You know school is hard.”

“At GWU? It’s gruelling.”

“It’s awful. I probably need a tutor.” You laugh. “Maybe. It’s not so bad, and once this year is over, I’m done, but I have my internship lined up for the summer, so I’m trying very hard to– to work as much as I can now. But working and studying all the time makes me tired.” Your cheeks heat at having spilled it all without finesse. “Sorry, I know you work twenty three hours a day.”

“How many hours are you working a week?” he asks.

“Uh, usually twenty-four. I try to do three shifts a week. Sometimes they want me after school, so it’s more like twenty-nine or thirty-four.” Or forty-four.

“And you’re studying–”

“Every spare minute.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. It sounds hard…”

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just thinking about something.” He licks his lips. “And you’ve always worked? Since high school?”

Your flush worsens. “Yeah. I have to pay for school somehow, and to eat.” You quieten.

“What if you didn’t have to work, honey?”

You shake your head vehemently. “Aaron.”

“I’m serious. What if you didn’t have to do so much? You need time to do nothing. Overworking yourself will give you an ulcer, trust me, and that’s the last thing I want. I could–”

“I can’t take your money–”

“It’s not just my money. Does Jack ‘take’ my money?”

“You signed up for Jack–”

“And I’m signed up for you. I want to be here for you, and this is what father’s do, okay? If they can, and I can.”

“Unnecessary brag.”

He ignores your joke. “Even if I could just pay for GWU. I know those textbooks are burning a hole in your pocket.”

You refuse. Aaron promises to return to the subject when you aren’t exhausted, and maybe you’ll let him. It would be beautiful to wake up on a Saturday with nothing to do.

It would be nice not to miss your dad. You’ve done it your whole life, but now he’s real, and he seems to really care about you. When he hugs you after he’s paid for dinner, you want to be allowed to cling, and, as he tightens his hold, you realise you are.

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rubbing your upper arm.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

You ease back. “Really?” Because you hadn’t mentioned that you missed him, but he already knows.

He pats your arm. “You know I’d see you every day, if I could? I’ve missed out on enough already. We’ll take Jack to Olive Garden again and you can think a bit more on what I proposed.”

“I can’t take your money,” you repeat quietly.

“Not that, though you should. You can tell me anything, okay?”

You breathe out as he steps away. “Okay.”

He touches your cheek briefly. “Okay. I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Aaron.”

“You’re welcome. Text me when you get home safe, all right?”

You look at him for too long. “Thank you,” you say again, moving in for another hug.

He props his head atop yours carefully. “You’re welcome, honey.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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sincerely-astra · 26 days ago

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☁️Stardew Valley Halloween Headcanons☁️

Penny:

Costume: Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz

Penny is the type of person who gives out healthy Halloween candy; the only time that changes is if Vincent and Jas beg her enough.

Penny is a huge fan of horror!

She chaperons Jas and Vincent while they Trick or Treat.

Haley:

Costume: Elle Woods

For pretty much every single year since Haley turned 16, she's thrown massive Halloween parties that are actually pretty popular.

Her favorite Halloween candy is Skittles.

Emily always tries to coerce her to wear matching costumes, but Haley always refuses since she finds it "too corny." She'll never actually say it, but she really wants to wear matching costumes with Emily.

Maru:

Costume: Mary Poppins

Maru is never prepared for Halloween and always ends up getting her costume together last minute.

Maru's favorite holiday is Halloween.

When she and Sebastian were little, he would tell her scary stories that would end up in her not being able to sleep and him having to comfort her.

Emily:

Costume: Mary Sanderson from Hocus Pocus

Like Penny, she is also kind of a health nut when it comes to Halloween candy, but she is more lenient, giving out one healthy snack and one full-sized candy bar.

Emily and Sandy talked all night for about a month trying to come to an agreement on what kind of costumes to wear. It took the two forever before they finally agreed on doing the Sanderson sisters.

By far, she is the best Halloween decorated and will have her and Haley's house decked out each year.

Abigal:

Costume: Elphaba from Wicked

Halloween is by far Abigal's favorite holiday, it's in her favorite season and it matches her vibe completely, what more could you want?

She tried to genuinely make a Halloween costume from scratch once after learning how to from Emily and her fingers are still hurting from how many times she ended up poking herself with the needle.

She cringes so hard every year when she sees her parents matching costumes...

Leah:

Costume: Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas

Leah had her costume planned since the previous Halloween and got Emily to help make it.

She makes all her Halloween decor from scratch; it usually ends up scarier than anything you can find in a store.

Her favorite Halloween movies are the super obscure ones that she's collected from various garage sales.

Alex:

Costume: Ken from Barbie

Alex doesn't hate Halloween, but he also isn't the biggest fan of it.

Haley picked out matching costumes for them but ended up bailing last minute so he just had to be Ken alone.

Despite not being the biggest Halloween fan, he is the master at trading his bad candy for good candy. No one knows how he does it, but he somehow practically scams everyone and gets a ton of candy at the end of the night. (Sam is so fed up with it and yet he gets tricked every single time.)

Elliott:

Costume: Vampire

Poor guy can't think of a creative Halloween costume to save his life... He also can't afford any new ones anyway-

Elliott is actually super vulnerable to jumpscares, like, full running to a different room action coming from him.

He got curious one year about the origins of Halloween and ended up going down a rabbit hole. He now knows way too many "fun facts" about the holiday.

Harvey:

Costume: Fred Jones from Scooby-Doo

Harvey is the type to give toothbrushes out for Halloween, I don't make the rules.

And yet, he has such a sweet tooth that he gets so embarrassed about it if anyone brings it up.

He practically never wears any spooky costumes since he is super bad with horror himself...

Sam:

Costume: Jake from Adventure Time

Pestered Sebastian for months to do Jake and Finn for Halloween and was literally over the moon when Sebastian finally caved. He also tried to get Abigal to be BMO or Marceline but she wouldn't budge.

He always ends up giving all his Halloween candy to Jas and Vincent for no reason other than he feels like it's the right thing to do.

Sam will try to do every single myth/challenge on the day of Halloween.

Sebastian:

Costume: Finn from Adventure Time

He doesn't even know how he got roped up by Sam to do a costume that wasn't anything remotely horror-related...

Sebastian is very desensitized to horror, rarely anything scares him which is basically an invitation for Abigal and Sam to try everything in their power to get a scare out of him.

Maru makes him watch horror movies with her, which he acts like he hates but actually doesn't mind.

Shane:

Costume: Joel from The Last Of Us (got the idea from Sam)

Shane likes to take Jas Trick or Treating for a little while before he lets Penny do it and it's honestly his favorite thing in the world.

Shane is the type of person to be all cynical about the holiday and say things like, "It's just a day where companies make you buy their terrible candy for too much money." And on some level, he does mean that, but he can't stop himself from staring at all the Halloween decorations around people's houses in wonder.

He, for god knows what reason, really enjoys pumpkin-flavored stuff, like, drinks, snacks, etc.

Sandy:

Costume: Winifred Sanderson from Hocus Pocus

She is such a sucker for any Halloween-themed music, she loves listening to it year-round.

Sandy is unbelievably good at spooky people, she just has this way of making everything seem super unsettling and it really freaks people out.

Her favorite candy is any type of gum, not only does she just find it delicious, but it also helps her concentrate when filling out paperwork and such.

A/N: Happy Halloween guys, I hope you have a fantastic day! :) My costume this year is Steve from Blues Clues and I love how it came out. And remember, people can be really sucky on Halloween, so please stay safe!

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prodbymaui · 2 years ago

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My Boy.

would it be a sin? if I can't help falling in love with you

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x fem reader

GENRE: the innocent sweet boy

WORD COUNT: 3.6k+ words

WARNINGS: explicit content, reader is older by 3 years, implied obsession, implied murder, mentioned physical abuse (not from haechan!)

SYNOPSIS: A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.

A/N: forgive me for not writing a smooth transition from fluff to smut lmao. and this isn't beta-read so please just pretend you don't see grammatical errors and typos. fluff was just a poor attempt of hiding my true intentions for this fic, anyways lolol. enjoy reading! send your thoughts if you can, xoxo <3

LISTEN TO: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley (Haley Reinhart)

Lee Donghyuck, for everyone at the campus, is someone who embodies gracefulness, kindness and all the positive traits one could ever think of. Nobody would ever dare to say ill about him as it's disrespectful for the boy who had been nothing but gentle and polite to each he had encounter.

Lee Donghyuck, the ever so sweet boy who comes to anyone's aid no matter what's his relationship with them.

You're his friend? He'll help you!

A classmate? He's just one call away!

Oh, you're a stranger and someone he haven't met yet? How amazing it is that Donghyuck has a free time to lend you a hand and get to know you!

Men and women stares at him with adoration, even the professors and staffs couldn't resist falling in love with his charming personality-- he even earned the nickname 'Haechan' or 'Full Sun' as he brightens everyone's day with little to no effort. It would be a lie if none of the students admits their crush on the campus' sweetheart Lee Donghyuck.

Too bad for them as the lovely boy's hazel eyes are only set for one person. Someone who had been by his side ever since he was 5. Someone he admires and respects so much he wouldn't let anyone hurt nor even touch them. It's you. His noona.

Haechan was 15 when he confessed his undying love for you.

''These feelings.. they didn't grow inside me throughout the 10 years I've been with you, Noona. They had always been here, in my heart. It was just me who took a long time to realize I have been harboring romantic feelings for someone who clearly treats me as her brother. This love-- it's endless, limitless. It knows no boundaries. No matter who and whatever comes in my way, my love for you will never waver. Through the deathly drought, my love won't ever wither. Through the thundering storms, my heart stands sturdy for you to hold on. This love that I have for you, it is the kind of love that only gets stronger as time flies by. The kind of love that through life and death, you remain the queen of my heart. Ruling it as if you are its owner. Let me be the man who protects you from the harsh that is this world. Let me be the wall you can lean on and the blanket you seek for warmth and comfort. I hope you wouldn't treat me any less after this confession. Because if there's anything that I am afraid to lose in this world, it's you, noona.''

It's astonishing, how a 15 year old can say such words. You're not sure where and when he learned those kind of things but you, as early as you can, stomps on the flattering feeling brewing inside of you. The boy is so young, he still have so much ahead of him, so much of the future that awaits him. With the thought of not wanting to let the boy tie himself up quickly to someone he's most likely just infatuated-- that was the first and last time you've expected to reject the sweet boy of Ilsan.

Lee Donghyuck, the persistent boy that he is, surprises you with more than 3 confessions each month. You resist falling for the beautiful flowers sent to your house everyday. You withstand the painful urge of giving in to the delicious and adorable bento boxes that shows different images of cartoon characters such as cinnamoroll and my melody from sanrio.

But you're just a human being. One that is weak from such cute attempts to sway your heart, like love letters with pastel decorations on your mailbox. It was too late before you realized, the wall you've created to stop the romantic feelings from squeezing themselves in your heart had crumbled into pieces. Shooing away your so-called sisterly love to Donghyuck as it was quickly replaced with the one the male had confessed harboring for you.

6 years later, your sweet little boy turned into a man he promised to be. Protecting you from any harm even if you can do it yourself. I know Noona can handle it but I don't want you stressing over things like these, why not make use of these muscles, right? He says.

''That's really the Lee Haechan? The little boy who had a crush on you back in high school? That chubby choco ball little boy?! God, he grew up so well! If you didn't tell me any sooner, I might've mistaken him as someone our age.''

You scoff at Jennie's words, sending her your middle finger. ''Just tell me you were thinking of fucking my boyfriend until I told you he's mine.''

Jennie's laugh battles with the loud music of the club, hands clapping like a seal due to amusement. ''Fine, guilty as fuck.''

You don't mind her words. You've been Jennie's friend for a long time to know that she doesn't have any plans of actually bedding your boy. Plus she's dumbly in love with her fuck buddy, Lalisa. That itself tells a lot. And it's not like your lovely would agree fucking your best friend.

''Come to think of it-- none of your past relationships really worked, no? All of them either ran away or just completely disappeared,'' She giggles.

''Men are so fucking scared of independent and powerful women. Maybe it was fated from the start for you to end up with Donghyuck. From what I can see, he's really into you-- always ready to serve or some cliché shit like that. But it's cute. You and Donghyuck are adorable together. He's so much better than those douchebags, especially that fucking Kim Jongin.''

Right, the devil who's Kim Jongin if its physical form. He was someone you wished you didn't met, someone whom you hoped is currently suffering wherever he is right now. You remember it as clear as the skies. The way he was so sly slipping a pill in your cup, waiting for you to pass out as he was driven madly by his disgusting lust over your body. Fortunately, luck wasn't on his side at that time and you managed to call the one person you trust the most before your ex-boyfriend even do something horrible to your intoxicated, drugged self-- sans the bruises and wounds you received from fighting back.

Haechan came rushing to your house that night. This is where it gets blurry. All you could recall was Jongin dropping on the floor, laying on top of the pool of his own blood. Donghyuck carries you, passing through the police as he urges them to rush you to a hospital-- all the while reminding them that the offender is currently inside and he was lucky to save the both of you despite earning some injuries as well, although minors.

3 years since then, you are yet to say you feel safe. Not long after being jailed, Kim Jongin was reported to be missing in his cell and until now, no police is able to locate him. The trauma he brought you stirs the fear once again, but Donghyuck was there to remind you that he will never let Kim Jongin near you. He already hurt you once, he wouldn't give him a chance to do it again.

A voice snaps you out of your bubble. Jennie is nowhere to be seen, now replaced with a familiar man you swear you've seen before. ''You seem preoccupied, a penny for your thoughts?''

The man chuckles at your stunned reaction. ''Ah.. you don't remember me? That hurts a bit, ouch.'' He clenches his chest dramatically, there you gasp in realization, jerking upwards as you point at his figure. You know this guy!

''Oh? Are you finally remembering me? Just to be sure, it's me. Na Jaemin from the dance club in high school. You know? Your partner in every dance.. ?''

''Right! Right! Ah, Na Jaemin, I didn't recognized you! Take a seat. How are you doing?'' Jaemin's smile is so bright that you could feel yourself going blind.

''Doing fine, luckily. I'm taking up an engineering course, we've talked about that before right? Remember how you encourage me to go for it because I was so scared I won't make it? I was so bad at math that time.''

Laughing softly, you share the vivid memories you can recall from your high school days. Jaemin is a gentleman who doesn't hesitate to lend a hand at times you're having difficulties following the choreographies. And by how he entertains everyone in the club, treating the members snacks and drinks during break time-- It is safe to say he's one of those that you misses the most if not for college erasing your memories and replacing it stress.

The conversation fills with reminiscing about the past as if they're 15 years ago. Sharing a laughter after one mentions that one time you both got mental blocked during a performance causing the two of you to mess up, thankfully you work well enough you pull it off and make it seem like there was no mistake at all.

Just as Jaemin's eyes roams around the dance floor, his vision captures a sight of his drunken friend that clearly needs his help. Sighing, the man bids his goodbye to you. Not without getting your number and sharing his, of course. You'd love to hang out with the whole group again.

''What was that right there, huh?'' A grin shows itself on your face and sudden giddiness bubbles inside you as the playful tone rumbles against your ear, a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your waist.

''Nothing, just an old friend saying hi.''

''Is that so?''

''Uh-hm.''

One on the forehead, one on your cheeks and finally on the lips. Your heart soars as Donghyuck peppers your whole face with sweet pecks. As much as you are enjoying the drinks and foods, you'd rather spend the night in your shared bedroom with Haechan. Maybe cuddle and watch some movies together if one is not too tired.

Your boyfriend agrees at the suggestion, immediately zooming to your apartment after waving a goodbye to Jennie with Lisa in her embrace, obviously sucking a hickey on her neck. No one admits it but clearly, your best friend's fuck buddy also have the same feelings for her. She's just too much of a coward. You remind yourself to help her confess.

Reaching the comfort of your home, you stand before the mirror as you drink in your look, observing if you look presentable during your time at the club. It isn't long before someone sneaks up behind you, arms snaking around you once again as he buries his face on the crook of your neck. Sighing, you lean backwards to press yourself at him, satisfied at the feeling of his body heat warming you.

A kiss turns into twice, trice, until it doubles and doubles, eventually reaching up to the back of your ears. Kitten licking the outline, Donghyuck presses his lips against your ears as one of his palms travels to cup one of your breasts, eyes straight to the mirror-- watching every changes of your facial expression as he fondles your boob while sucking an area of your neck.

Your clothes are soon on the floor, courtesy of Haechan desperately yet slowly stripping them off of you, his touch lingering in each part of your body. A finger of his traces the line that is between your pussy cheeks, dipping a little only to retract as fast. His chest rumbles against your back when he chuckle, left hand settling on your throat comfortably as his thumb and forefinger forces you to face your reflection on the mirror.

''You're so pretty, noona. Can you open your legs for me?'' Nodding so pliantly, Donghyuck could feel his pants getting tighter each second that passes by.

Spreading your legs, you grip his arm to steady yourself as a digit of his pushes itself in your core, sliding so easily due to the wetness embarrassingly caused by Haechan's raspy voice whispering against your ears. Being knuckles deep inside you, the male curses under his breath as he controls himself from foregoing foreplay and straight fucking you against the mirror. Your warm and velvety walls are making it hard for him to prevent himself from doing so.

Soon after a couple of strokes, your hips jerks in little motions, whines slightly echoing the four walls of the bedroom. That was when Donghyuck decided to add another finger to increase the friction you're feeling, curling them upwards in an attempt to press the buttons that emits the sounds he loves so much he considers it as a music.

It should be somewhere around here...

''Ah, shit!''

There we go, he cockily smirks. Humming, Haechan continuously jabs the tip of his fingers to that certain spot, grinding his clothed dick on the crack of your ass to ease the throbbing pain between his legs. ''Fuck, Hyuck..'' Your whines encourage the male to scissor your insides, stretching your walls all the while making sure hit and reach every spot you couldn't explore with your own hands.

His tongue falls flat on your skin as he licks a stripe from your shoulders up to the back of your ears, the hand that was previously on your throat now settles on your boob, pinching the hard nub lightly as he stimulates further pleasure with it. Your legs folds a bit, going jelly but the sudden increase of the dizzying pleasure you're getting.

''Fuck, fuck, fuck!'' Hips moving to meet the palms of your boyfriend, Haechan didn't hesitate to add two more fingers. He's already sure you can take it, you've pushed much bigger things in your pussy. The pads of Donghyuck's hand comes in contact with your aching hard clit, forcing a yelp from your. Cruelly, your boyfriend laughs at your reaction before pressing harder on your button, making circles with it the same time as four of his fingers harshly plunges themselves in your soaking core.

Eyes landing on the mirror, it eventually reaches downwards where Donghyuck's wrist and your pelvis meets. Even from your position and blurry vision, you could the redness and puffiness your pussy had become, clit peeking between the cheeks. Haechan finds the need to balance your figure as you almost fall forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your mouth opens to a scream. There your forehead scrunches to the middle, body shivering in his hold as the surface of his hand soon greets the sticky and creamy substance that he loves so much.

Beaming in satisfaction, Haechan makes a show of licking your juices off his hands, sucking each fingers with a 'pop!' before humming. ''You're just so sweet.''

Donghyuck then lets your knees meet the carpet of the ground slowly, turning you around so you could face the bump that is hidden underneath the fabric of his pants. He can already see the drool escaping your lips. No words are needed for you to know what to do, you've done this a lot of time, enough to learn what satisfies your lovely boyfriend.

Contrary to the Donghyuck you've gotten used to, this man that stands before you embodies nothing similar to the sweetheart. This particular Donghyuck loves to slide his girthy cock inside of you with no warnings, gripping your hair in a fist as he mercilessly thrusts to that pleasuring walls that is your throat.

This particular Donghyuck gets off of watching you scrambling to pull yourself off of him to catch a breath, coughing out with saliva only to come back having your face pressed to his pelvis once again. Eyes shut close as you try to breathe within your nose and if you couldn't, resort to opening your eyes and presenting your best teary eyes to Haechan for him to spare you, let you take in some air for at least a few seconds.

''Ah.. that's a-- I made you cum but you couldn't even bring me near my release? Isn't that a bit unfair to me, noona?'' You know damn well he's just mocking you. There's no one Donghyuck can fool when it comes to your ability to make him cum. A mere sight of you, even if covered from head to toe, would be enough for him to pop a boner and shoot his cum out in the air.

Determined to repay your baby's kind gesture earlier, you stills in your position and gives him a signal. Donghyuck lets out profanities with that. You just fucking gave him a confirmation, a consent that you're letting him fuck your throat as if it's your pussy.

Lee Donghyuck did just that. Holding your face in place, fucking inside you deeper with each thrust until a groan escapes his lips, soon enough he was spurting out white thick substances in the alley of your burning throat.

The male wastes no time in carrying you to the bed, throwing you after ripping his clothes off of him. His tongue invades the insides of your mouth, exploring and devouring what you have to offer. As if running out of time, Haechan's hands grasps the back of your thighs and forces them up to get a clearer view of your pussy pulsating, hungry for his cock.

Who is Donghyuck to deprive his lovely noona from receiving a well deserved good fuck, right?

No more teasing and no more extra touches, the tip of Donghyuck's thick cock slowly sinks, the whole entirety of his length follows not long after. His mouth falls open at the heat that surrounds him, the ecstasy you brings shakes his sanity.

Unforgiving, the thrusts are. With his hands settling besides your head, Haechan looks down to watch where your hole swallows him hungrily and is forced to turn his eyes away in order to not cum that fast. Fuck, the squelching sounds that bounces across the bedroom is so obscene that Donghyuck could feel himself smiling in pride. He's doing this to his, noona. Him and not those bastards.

''Fuck! Y-you're so b-big! So good, baby-- ah, fuck!'' Your nails creates crescent moon shapes on his back as it digs due to the immense pleasure, head dipping further to the pillow underneath you.

Being able to hold you in his arms and have you screaming for him, Haechan did the best he can to prevent himself from giving in to tempting urge of releasing. Instead, he decides to chase yours. He rocks his hips in the way you had been begging him, faster and harder. Unhooking his hold, he brings your legs to rest on his shoulders, almost bending you in half. This enables his cock to reach deeper and you wails, feeling his tip right at your stomach.

Fucking you earnestly, Haechan quickens his pace where you couldn't keep up, reduced to a whimpering and crying mess as you beg him to send you off to your climax. He latches his wet lip around your nipples, there he sucks like a new born baby starving for its mama's milk. Prodding his tongue right at the middle of your nub and wiggles them, that and the continuous contact of his tip to your sweet spot are those that caused you to thrash violently in his hold.

Hands flying anywhere, in search of gripping anything. Your burning walls clenching around his shaft, it would be a crime for Donghyuck to not succumb to the euphoria that's literally waving at him and beckoning him to cum. With your sweet words and encouragements piercing his eardrums, your boyfriend cums three thrusts after you, each resulting a moan from him.

The high soon subsides and a chuckle instinctively comes from him when his eyes catches the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him, snoring like a little baby. Well, you are. His baby, to be exact.

Stickiness from the mega mixture of sweat and cum covers most of your skin, he wouldn't want the both of you to have a skin rashes or whatever it is that you gets from having cum on your skin for too long. And aftercare is a must! So he forces himself out of the bed despite the aching muscles and cleans you up, carefully as to no wake you up from your deep slumber.

Minutes passing, you are now comfortably laying on the bed, clean and free from the germs. A soft smile dawns Haechan's features as he cards his hand through your hair endearingly, kissing your forehead. ''I can't believe you're mine, noona.'' Caressing your cheeks for the last time, he practically forces himself to stop and move on to what he planned to do which is to cook your some food. Usually after sex, you'll wake up after an hour or so because of hunger. It has been a routine for him to prepare you both some easy dishes.

He is about to head towards the door when your phone, placed on the bedside, rings. Striding to it, he taps once to see who dared to text his noona at this time. Don't they know that you are most likely sleeping during this hour and their text might wake you up? Nevermind, maybe it's Jennie.

Oh. It's him.

Hey, this is Jaemin! I was just thinking if you'd like to hang out on wednesday? Only if you're free, of course!

Na fucking Jaemin.

Donghyuck scoffs, tongue poking his cheeks as he smirks in disbelief.

3 years since then, he can't believe he's about to give Kim Jongin a fucking gravemate.

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