#Morgan x sh reader

[albinowolf16504]

battle scares ~ Morgan x reid x Aaron X M!sh!reader

A/N: hey y'all feel free to give request I can write anything. if you'd like you can check out some of my work on watt pad as I do write on there as well.

Wattpad : @Shadow_wolf16504

Summery: y/n struggles with sh and his boyfriends find out and do their best to help him

Trigger warning: cutting, depression, homosexuality, gay, polyamory, mention of autism, and loud music.

you're in your bathroom at 3am crying the thoughts you tried so hard to get rid of returning with force. your found yourself on the bathroom floor in only your sweatpants, your torso bare your old and new scars on your arms on display, only adding fuel to your worsening thoughts.

you should have killed yourself when you had the chance

your only a burden to everyone

you boyfriends don't love you they pity you

the thought becomes louder and more frequent you try to drown it out with loud music, but no luck. you try to think of a way to help but only come to one conclusion. cutting. crawling toward your sink, you open a drawer and pull out an old small 'necklace' case. opening it you see the multitude of blades. grabbing one you take your place back against the wall next to the speaker.

'your a pussy you wouldn't cut'

'your too weak to cut'

'your a pathetic excuse for a man'

slowly you drag the blade across your forearm drawing a line of red with your silver blade over the old white lines and the other scabbed red lines. you get 6 cuts in blood running down your arm to your fingers then dripping down onto the floor. leaning your head against the wall behind you, you let out a sigh of your thought seeping away with the blood. After sitting for ten minutes in the silence on your head you stand putting the blade back into the case then back into the drawer. pulling out some gauze and bandage wrap you wash your forearm wincing slightly as the sting of the water hits the fresh wounds. Once the bloods gone you place the gauze and wrap your arms. Sleepiness quickly seeps its way into your body and you turn off your music, clean up the blood on the floor then lay in your bed covering yourself in the blankets trying to get some sleep before work tomorrow.

— – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

As you wake up you can feel the throbs starting to come from your angry forearms. You sit up, turn off your alarm cursing as the movement cracks open some of the new scabs. You swing your feet over the edge of the huge bed so they can rest on the cold floor. After rubbing your eyes and stretching you grab clothes and head to the bathroom. Your thoughts were still silent from your breakdown a couple hours earlier so you were fine in the shower only winching as you washed over your new cuts. After you shower you wrap your arms in new clean gauze and bandages then throw on your black hoodie and cargo jeans. You made sure to grab one of Aaron's hoodies as it was 2 sizes too big so you knew it would hide the bandages well. Leaving the bead room you walked to your door and put on your military boots, grabbed your keys, and helmet then left the gloomy apartment. 

– – – — – – – – – – –

You pulled up to the BAU office turning off you loud bike and getting off. You quickly made your way into the office and took the elevator up. Once the ding for your floor was sounded you stepped out into the floor automatically being spotted by your other boyfriend Reid who was waiting for you with a cup of coffee.

“You make him wait for you! Your so lazy”

You shoved the thought to the back of your mind accepting the cup from your boyfriend's hand. You started walking toward your desk Reid going on about some random subject. You didn't hear much of it, making a b-line to your desk only to stop and give Derek a quick kiss on the head as you pass by. As you sat at your desk Reid made a spot for him on the counter behind you. 

“y/n.” Reid said from behind you, breaking the sleepy fog that was surrounding you head.

“Yeah . sorry still a little tired” you replied with a fake smile plastered on your face. Reid didn't look convinced.

“I asked if you're ok.” Reid repeated. You just nodded and replied with the ‘im fine’. You didn't hear a reply from Reid but you guessed that he may have just nodded his head, but you couldn't tell you were already starting on the pile of paperwork on your desk.

‘Look at you making them worry. You're such a burden.’ 

Reid left you to your work and you continued to keep your thoughts at bay. Aaron had come out of his office after about an hour of you arriving. Walking up to you he kissed you on the head and then walked over to Reid and morgan. After about 10 minutes Aaron clapped his hands together getting the team's attention.

“Let's take the rest of the day off guys.” There were happy cheers from everyone on the team. You close the report you were currently working on and grab your helmet from under your desk. Everyone was huddled together talking about a night out. You started to walk past them when Morgan caught your arm in his hand gently. You winced slightly but quickly covered it up hoping he didn't tell. 

“We’re all going to the bar you should join.” he said, letting go of my arm.

“No i'm alright ill just spoil the fun. You guys have fun though.” you smiled and headed to the elevator. Once the door closed your thoughts flooded in.

‘So pathetic they had to invite you because they feel bad’

‘You couldn't even finish your work.’

‘Lazy bitch’

You reach the parking lot, put your helmet on and get on your bike and speed home.

Once your home and your thoughts start up again and you again turn on music trying to drown out the thoughts but again fails and ends up sitting on your bathroom floor shirt off cutting again. After a bunch of new cuts you look down and you know you went too far because you slowly start to drift into blackness. The last thing you hear before you blackout is his boyfriend's Reid, Morgen, and Aaron barge into the bathroom. 

After a while you wake up on your couch, your arms wrapped tightly in bandages and sleeping on Morgan's body. Morgan's arm wrapped around you protectively. Aaron and Reid are on the floor next to each other talking about you, saddened by the fact they couldn't tell you  are  in pain and that you felt you couldn't talk to them. They couldn't tell you were awake yet so you just tried to cuddle closer to morgen.

“Afternoon Moonlight.” Morgan said, rubbing a hand up and down my back. You let out a groan, getting a half hearted chuckle from the men in the room. A Crushing feeling of shame and guilt hits you and you start to cry slightly, your face hidden in Morgan's chest. 

‘YOU BURDEN!’ your thoughts yell out. You cry slightly harder than Morgan hugging you closer sitting up with you on his lap. Aaron and Reid come in to hug you as well. Whispering sweet things in your ear. Somehow their sweet whispers slice up the thoughts and get rid of them.your crying stops but they don't move for a while. Then Morgan hands you to Aaron as if you weighed nothithing. Morgan got up and left somewhere but Aaron and Reid stayed next to you. Once your tears stopped you sat up. You couldn't make eye contact with any of them so  you just started to play with Aarons tie. Morgan returned with 4 mugs of hot chocolate, placing them on the coffee table in front. Morgan sat down and opened his arm beckoning you to him. You got up from Aarons lap and walked over sitting in Morgan's lap. Talking one of the mugs you took a sip, Aaron and Reid took places by the table and after some silence Reid was the first to speak.

“Baby why didn't you say something?” he looked down at his hands Aaron quickly grabbing one and holding on to it. You continued to look down.

“I don't want to be more of a burden you you guys.” you mumbled.

“You are not a burden to moonlight.” Morgan said, planting a kiss on the top of your head then wrapped his arms around your stomach hugging you close to him.

“He's the right little wolf. You're not a burden. You're a strong man who can take a lot but asking for help or even just having someone to listen to doesn't make you a burden.” Aaron said Morgan's fingers found their way under your chin and he gently lifted your head to face him directly.

“Moonlight. What's going on?” Morgan asked. After some more silence you spoke.

“Sometimes…... .sometimes it just get loud. My thoughts get loud. I used to be able to drown them out with music but they've become louder. I couldn't find a way to stop them until….until i used my cutting. Again.” They were all silent.

“There is a 34% higher rating in autistic males self harming compared to non autistic males.” Reid said.

“Well how about we try to help you.” Aaron said “what if we make a list of things you can do instead of harming yourself? How does that sound, little wolf?” Aaron reached out, taking your hand. You nodded and for the next 20 minutes you and your boyfriends made a list of things to do for when you feel the need to harm yourself. The first one was calling them then there was stuff like, rolling up in a blanket,reading, sleeping, rubber band, writing the thought etc. after that was done you were passed over to Reid so that Aaron and morgan can make dinner for the 4 of you. The rest of the night was filled with cuddles, games, kisses, and more fun.

#aaron x male reader #aaron hotchner #morgan x male reader #derek morgan #spencer reid #reid x male reader #sh #y/n #Reid x sh reader #Morgan x sh reader #Aaron X sh reader #mxmxmxm #autisum #gay #polyamory #criminal minds #fanfic

[aperrywilliams]

If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

Part 2

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Spencer's POV

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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them. 

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-" 

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this? 

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around. 

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking. 

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago. 

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers." 

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now. 

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing. 

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you? 

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

-

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could. 

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

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

Next -> Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #amanda perry williams #aperrywilliams #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

[imtryingbuck]

Pebbles

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

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

Word count: 842

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

You was about to knock again when her door answered.

“Y-Y/n, what’s happened? Come here”

“I need to tell you something”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m so-sorry Natty”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“B-but his girlf-“

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

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

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

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

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

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #nat romanoff #Nat Romanoff x you #the avengers #natasha romonova #avengers x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #avengers x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #nat x reader #nat x you #natasha x you

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Guilt II

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer has to face up to what he has done. Will you be around to hear his apologies?

Part 1

Word Count: 2,866

(just realised pt1 and pt2 have the same word count tf?!)

A/n: Holy sh**!!!! I cannot believe how much this fic blew up! I am so so glad for all of your lovely comments so here is the long anticipated part 2. I hope you all enjoy it and I love every single one of you!!!

Spencer's leg bounced rhythmically as he sat in the waiting room with the others. Hunched over, fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to keep his breaths even to stave off another panic attack. His head was bowed so he didn’t have to look at anyone, too ashamed to take his eyes off the floor. 

You had crashed only a little while ago but it felt like an eternity to Spencer. 

The rest of the team was scattered around the room. 

J.J was sitting next to Emily, crying silent tears that she refused to wipe away. 

Emily was keeping her eye on Spencer just in case he snapped again and she had to step in. 

Morgan was standing by the window with Penelope in his arms, swaying gently from side to side.  

Penelope's makeup was a mess from crying and Morgan had a large bruise forming on his cheekbone. 

Hotch and Rossi were standing near the doorway in quiet conversation. 

This is when a sudden realisation had Spencer gasping as he reached into his pocket for his phone. 

“Reid?” Emily kept her voice soft. “You okay?” 

Spencer sniffled as he tapped on his phone, “I haven’t contacted her family. How did I not think of this before?” 

Emily sat forward and placed her hand on his knee, “Reid, it’s okay. J.J already called them, they know what’s going on and are trying to get here as soon as they can.” 

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair, “How did I forget that? How could I forget to tell them their daughter is in hospital?!” 

J.J could see the agitation quickly returning and shook her head, “Spence, you’re under tremendous stress right now. No one is going to be mad at you.” 

He scoffed but before he could retort a doctor walked in from around the corner. 

“Family of Y/n Y/L/n?” 

Spencer shot to his feet as the doctor walked in, “Is she okay?” He asked desperately as the rest of the team held their breath. 

“She’s stable.” 

The entire room let out the involuntary breath they were holding. 

Spencer felt a great weight lift off his chest, “What happened?” 

“Y/n had a cardiac arrest as a result of the stress the surgery must have put on the heart. We’ve put her on blood thinners and we will be monitoring her very closely.” 

“Can I see her?” 

The doctor nodded, “Of course.” Before she led him out of the waiting area and down the corridor to your room. 

When Spencer walked in he almost couldn’t believe it.  

You looked exactly the same. 

How could that be possible? 

You were lying in the same position. Your hair was a little out of place but apart from that you wouldn’t be able to tell that your heart had stopped and the doctors had to shock you just a little while ago. 

The chairs had been pushed out of the way for the doctors to get to you, so Spencer had to drag one back over to your bedside and sat down heavily. He took a deep breath and took your hand again. 

“You scared me. Y/n, you really scared me. I am so angry at how scared you made me too. Which doesn’t make sense does it? How can I be angry at you when you’re the one who almost- almost-.” His voice broke so he swallowed to try and get back under control again. 

A knock on the door made him turn around. 

Rossi was standing in the doorway with a bottle of water and a sandwich. 

“Thought you could use this.” He walked into the room and stopped by one of the chairs, “Mind if I join you?” 

Spencer shook his head so Rossi pulled up a chair beside Spencer before handing out the items to him. 

Spencer laid eyes on the sandwich in Rossi’s hand and his stomach churned in hunger, “Thank you.” He took the items from Rossi and took a sip from the water. 

Rossi never spoke, he only sat as a silent companion while Spencer devoured the sandwich and water.  

It wasn’t until after Spencer finished and threw the rubbish in the bin Rossi spoke up, “You want to talk about it?” 

Spencer leaned back in his chair, “How’s Morgan?” 

Rossi folded his hands in his lap, “He isn’t angry with you if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Spencer let out a deprecating laugh, “I punched him in the face.” 

Rossi gave him a stern look, “We all understand what grief can do to someone.” 

“He’s my best friend.” 

“Which is why he isn’t angry.” 

Spencer sighs as he stares back to you, “You know, I felt like there was two types of people in the world. Those that get over their grief and move on and then those who descend into an endless misery.” He turned to look at Rossi, “I always thought I was the first one.” 

“Until now?” 

He nodded. 

“She’s not gone kid. Y/n’s a fighter.” 

Spencer smiled sadly, “I know but look at me. What would I be like if she was?” 

Rossi leant forward and placed his hand on Spencer’s knee, “She’s not and that’s what you need to focus on.” 

6 Days. 

17 hours. 

21 minutes. 

20 seconds. 21. 22. 23. 

Spencer blinked out of his sleep. 

He saw the familiar walls around him that were now filled with cards and flowers brought by her family and the team. 

Stretching out he moaned in pain, every single muscle hurt. These hospital chairs were not good for someone of average height, never mind someone over six foot. 

Looking around he found the source of what woke him up, Morgan was standing at the foot of your bed with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. 

Spencer hasn’t talked to him since his fist connected with his jaw almost a week ago. 

Morgan held out one of the cups and the bag, “A peace offering.” 

Spencer gave him a small smile as he reached out but Morgan pulled it out of his reach and raised an eyebrow at him, “Only if you don’t hit me again.” 

He couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled inside him, “Okay.” 

Morgan nodded and sat down beside him, “Any change?” 

Spencer sipped on his coffee, “She’s responding more. More eye movement. They’re going to try and wake her up later.” 

Morgan smiled supportively, “That’s great news, Spencer.” 

After a moment of silence Spencer opened his mouth, “Morgan I-” 

Morgan held up his hand, “You don’t need to say it, kid. I know.” 

Spencer sighed, “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.” 

Figuring out that nothing else would cut through to Spencer he crossed his legs, “Did you know that around 1.5% of the population experiences anger with grief.” 

Getting the reaction he wanted he saw Spencer frown, “With what study?” 

Morgan shrugged, “Google.” and when Spencer scoffed, he leaned forward, “Look, it wasn’t right but you did it and I know why you did and I forgive you anyway. So, forget about it. You hit like a girl anyway.” 

At that the two bubbled into a fit of laughter. 

Once the laughter died down Spencer spoke up, “Morgan, can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, kid. Anything.” 

Spencer took a deep breath, not really wanting to get into this conversation, “What did you hear?” 

Morgan raised an eyebrow, “What?” 

Spencer bit his lip, Morgan could see the nervousness bleeding out of him, “When I was on the phone to Maeve. What did you hear?” 

Morgan rubbed his head, “Spencer, that doesn’t matter right n-” 

“No, it... It matters to me.” 

Morgan shook his head, “I can’t remember exactly now, but you were talking to Maeve, wanting to meet up.” 

Spencer frowned, “That’s it?” 

Morgan shrugged, “It was enough for Y/n.” 

Spencer blinked at him, “Morgan, she’s a doctor. Of course, she wanted to meet me in person.” 

“Look, Y/n made me promise that if I ever heard anything I was to tell her. It sounded like something she needed to know.” 

Spencer couldn’t believe it. All of this over a simple meet up. He wasn’t angry though, he’s past anger, he just wants you to wake up. He coughed lightly, “I’m cutting ties with her anyway, I’m going to find a new doctor.” 

Morgan stood up and slapped him gently on the shoulder, “I think that’s for the best. Let me know if there’s any changes.” 

“Will do.” 

When Spencer was alone again with his own thoughts, he knew Morgan was right. This is for the best and all he cared about was that you were happy and he will do anything to make that happen. 

Anything. 

Speaking of doing anything, you would do anything right now to get out of whatever position you are in right now. Your arms and legs feel like pure led. You couldn’t move your head or even open your eyes. It feels like you’ve stayed in bed all day and not in the good way. 

Everything was so heavy. 

The only thing that made the feelings at all nice was the pleasant, warm, soothing weight that was on your right hand. 

You could move your eyes but not your eye lids to open them. So, all you could stare at was the weird darkness yet explosions of colour that you were well acquainted with. 

“When you wake up, I am going to do everything for you.” 

You frown, well, you try to frown. Who was speaking to you right now? 

“You’re not going to lift a finger for weeks. Any takeaway you desire, I’ll get it for you. I’ll even attempt to do a backflip.” 

Well that just sounds crazy. 

“We’ll go to that sushi restaurant that just opened that you’ve always wanted to try and I will get us those Broadway tickets too. I’ll even let you braid my hair.” 

Spencer! It’s definitely him. You pestered him for ages to go to that new restaurant and also to let you put his hair into a bun or some braids. 

“But we can only do that if you wake up, okay? So, you need to do that soon.” 

Wake up? But you are awake? 

You are awake? 

You are awake! 

Spencer! 

“Spencer...” 

Spencer’s eyes turned into dinner plates. You definitely just spoke. 

He jumped out of his seat and leaned over you, “Y/n? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?” 

His heart jumped when your eyebrows creased into a frown. 

You were waking up! 

“Y/n, open your eyes for me. Please.” 

It was slow at first, your eyes opening lazily and closing again. 

Spencer squeezed your hand and gasped when he felt you squeeze back, “That’s it. That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” 

He watched as you slowly opened your eyes, finally having enough strength to keep them open. 

Spencer felt a weight lift off of his chest that hasn’t left him in a week. Letting out a sigh of relief as tears formed in his eyes from seeing your own beautiful eyes again. 

“Hi.” you whispered. 

Spencer sniffled before smiling widely at you, “Hey there.” He let go of your hand and sat down on the bed beside you and raised both of his hands to gently cup your cheeks, stroking you with his thumbs, “I am so happy to see you.” 

Your heart swelled at the affection. It had been a long time since Spencer had been like this with you. 

“What- what happened?” your voice was croaky from not using it for so long. 

Spencer leaned over to grab a jug of water that the nurse had brought in that morning and quickly filled a plastic cup before holding it to your lips, “Small sips.” 

After you had done as he said he put the cup to the side, “You got shot in collarbone the field. You lost a lot of blood at the scene before we got you here but the surgery went well.” 

You nodded, “The UnSub?” 

“We got him, no one else got hurt.” 

“You’re in different clothes.” 

Spencer chuckled, “You’ve been out for a week.” 

“What?” you gasped before trying to get up. 

“No, no. Stay down.” Spencer gently pushed down against you until you were lying back down on the bed again, “We arrived and you went straight to surgery, couple hours after that you crashed again but they brought you back and now the doctor says you’re going to be fine.” 

It was a lot of information to take in at one time. It rendered you completely speechless. You looked down in shock and saw all of the wires in your arms. 

“Hey, look at me. Baby, look at me.” Spencer tried to keep your eyes on him so that you didn’t descend into a panic. “You’re okay.” 

You nodded as you tried to keep calm, choosing instead to focus on him, “How’re you?” 

Spencer frowned, “You just woke up from a coma and you’re asking me how I am?” 

You gave him your best serious face, which never works at all, to Spencer it looks more like a puppy trying to look cross. 

“Remember what I was like in the anthrax case and that was only a day. You’ve been waiting for seven.” 

Spencer’s stomach flipped. How could anyone ever think that there was a more perfect person for him than the woman lying right in front of him, “Better now.” he lifted your hand so he could kiss the back of it. “I mean that.” 

You frowned but before you could reply Spencer kept talking. 

“Y/n, I need to apologise to you. Our fight, which doesn’t even seem relevant anymore, I’m sorry it happened and I should’ve been more accepting of your feelings. I’m sorry that what Derek told you had you thinking about packing and going to stay with him. I’m sorry for making you feel like there could ever be any other woman in my life other than you. I am so thankful for the one I have and I love you so much. More than there are stars in the universe.” 

Tears filled your eyes at his declaration, “Oh, Spence.” You hadn’t mean to lose faith in him but when Derek came to you saying that Spencer and Maeve were thinking of meeting up you had thought the worst. You thought your fears of him leaving were coming true. That he had found someone smarter and more beautiful. 

Spencer sniffled as he lifted your left hand so you could see your engagement ring, “When I gave you this ring, I made a promise. To you and to myself. That come what may, the world will not stop me from marrying the most amazing and the most beautiful woman that was ever created.” 

You squeezed his hand and smiled at him, “You don’t have to apologise. I was just being paranoid and-” 

“No.” Spencer’s face had contorted into frustration, “No. Don’t you apologise for this. I did this to us and I’m going to do everything I can to fix it. Starting with cutting all contact with Maeve.” 

Your mouth dropped open, “What? But what about-” 

Spencer shook his head, “I can find a new geneticist, I'd never be able to find a new you.” 

A tear finally slipped from your eye before you quickly wiped it away and gently punched Spencer’s arm, “You know, for an awkward nerdy guy you really know how to pull at the heartstrings." You laughed through the tears. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly. 

You sniffled and smiled, “Because I love you.” 

Spencer feigned a frown, “And that makes you cry?” 

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.” 

Spencer chuckled before cupping your cheeks once again and leaning down to place his lips on yours. They were a little dry but Spencer was in no way complaining. He was kissing you again and you were kissing back. He shut his eyes tight, if this was a dream he was never, ever waking up again. 

Slowly pulling back he was so glad to see you weren’t a dream, you were awake and staring back at him. He placed his forehead against yours and whispered, “I love you too.” 

He kissed your forehead and when you tried to move you hissed in pain, “Okay, I think we’re going to have to get a real doctor in here now.” 

Spencer placed a hand over his heart and protested wholeheartedly, “I am a real doctor!” 

You raised your eyebrow at him. 

“I’m serious, I have a title and everything!” he pouted. 

“Mmhmm, yeah, sure.” You enjoyed toying with him, “Oh alright! Could you please get the M.D doctor please, three PhD Doctor Reid?” 

Spencer chuckled and booped your nose, “Anything for you.” As he got to the door he turned to you, “By the way, there’s something else you should know...” 

“What is it?” you asked apprehensively. 

“I may or may not have punched Derek in the face.” He rushed out before quickly sprinting out of the room, making it halfway down the hall before he heard, 

“Spencer Reid, you get back here!” 

God, he was so glad to have her back. 

Taglist:

I don't really post enough to warrent a taglist but so many of you requested!

@scallywag1299 @nyenye @13thdoctor-run @sebastiansstanswhore @glxwingrxse @jetblackwingsss @lagirl112 @ssa-uglywhore27 @stfu-rina @fuglyputa24 @cupidddd-d @somiaw

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

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid smut #criminalminds #criminalminds fanfic #criminalminds smut #virgin!spencer reid #smut #smut with fluff #mdni #minors do not interact #lots of consent #not beta read #halloween feels #friends to lovers #garcia is a ray of sunshine #bonus points if you guess the movie #virgin!spencer is my bby and no one is allowed to say bad things about him #spencer's tummy is adorable #i love him your honor #reposting here bc i deactivated my sideblog #my gif #milla writes n*s*f*w*

[supercriminalbean]

Hidden Injury

Aaron Hotchner X GN!Reader X Derek Morgan.

Whumpcember day 4 prompt Hidden injury.

@whumpcember

Summary: A bad day leads you to hiding your injuries.

Day 4 hidden injury.

Damn it! Could this day get any worse, first you had spilled your coffee all over your paperwork you had spent all night completing. Next, you had gotten into multiple arguments with the main officer

on the case which caused tension between the police force and the team. Then you, Morgan and Hotch headed up to the a suspect's houses only for everyone to be separated and you had somehow gotten pinned against the wall by him. You fought against him, and at one point you were winning until he took a cheap shot at your ribs. He managed to get away and then on the drive back your vehicle was T-boned by the unsub. Hotch managed to get a few shots off at him, getting him square in the shoulder, you all watch him run away into the trees. So now you, Morgan and Hotch all stand on the side of the road stranded, waiting for backup. Luckily no one was hurt, well badly hurt. 

~~~

You can’t help but lean against the car as Hotch and Morgan discuss the unsub and his next moves. You try to focus on the discussion but you can’t, there's a throbbing sensation coming from your side, sliding your hand down your side gently, you hiss sharply before intaking a deep breath. Glancing up at the boys, glad they didn’t hear you, nor are they watching you. So being careful, you slowly lift the bottom of your shirt up, spotting a dark purple bruise starting to form. You definitely have broken a couple ribs, fuck no wonder this shit hurts. Pulling down your shirt again you lean against the car, closing your eyes as you take some deep breaths. 

“(Y/l), what do you think?” Hotch turns over to you, noticing you are still leaning against the car, having not moved with them. He can’t help frown, his eyebrows narrowing lightly.

“Oh um, yeah I agree with you guys” You stumble over your words just slightly, sending him a reassuring smile when you meet his concerned eyes. 

“Alright” He sighs walking back over to you.

“Did Rossi say how long he will be” Morgan groans, leaning up against the car beside you. 

“No, he said he would drop the others off then come straight back for us” Hotch replies.

“Why don’t you just walk Morgan, get a headstart” You tease him smirking tiredly.

“Oh yeah yeah shorty, you go first” He laughs back, nudging you with his elbow. Your laughter turns to a hiss of pain, your eyes widen before you cough trying to cover it up, but too late. 

~~~

“Did you just hiss?” Morgan straightens up, staring down at you with a confused look in his eyes.

“No, I coughed.” You lie badly trying to move before slamming your eyes shut as pain radiates through your body.

“(Y/n)” Hotch sighs, crossing his arms as he moves to stand in front of you. “Pull your shirt up”

“What, right here boss?” Smirking at him as the next words slip out. “ Look I'm flattered truly but Rossi could turn up anytime I don’t think he needs to see such a good show” You grin at him as you spot Morgan trying hard to muffle his chuckles.

“(Y/n) cut it out, you’re hurt” Hotch huffs louder, his patience running low.

“I don’t think you want to push him sweetheart” Morgan chuckles as you smirk at him just as Hotch grabs the bottom of your shirt pulling it upwards. 

“(Y/n)” Hotch mutters softly as his finger slides over it gently causing you to wince.

“Jesus sweetheart” Derek sighs, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“It's not the bad” You try to argue as Aaron slides his hands over your sides slowly, causing you to whine and glare in response.

“Sorry, I’m just checking it out” Aaron quickly apologies before pulling his hands away. 

“How bad?” You ask groaning as the throbbing returns.

“At least three broken ribs, if not four” Aaron sighs, giving you a pointed look. “Don’t you ever try to hide that from us again” 

“Sorry Hotch, It won’t happen again” You smile weakly in apology as Derek helps you move. 

“You should sit down” Derek shakes his head as he opens the back car door for you, helping you settle down before Aaron passes you some pain killers. 

“Just relax we will get you some help soon” Aaron smiles as you swallow down the pills and nod at him.

“Thank you”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek reader #Derek morgan x reader #Derek morgan X gn!reader #Aaron hotchner x Gn!Reader #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner fluff #Derek morgan fluff #whumpcember #whumpcember 2023 #Whumpcember day 4

[yellowroseswrites]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a fic about Spencer Reid x sh/ed reader. The reader is very insecure because she feels like she used to be smart but isn't anymore and maybe after failing a case she starts harming herself again.

I was also wondering if you could include

that she wears a watch all the time

that she tends to cut small cuts on her fingers because she can blame them on other things and often digs her nails into them when anxious

has a good relationship with family so she feels her actions are unjustified

Spencer and reader are friends but shes always thought of him as more

I totally understand if this isn't possible and thank you.

"I want to help you carry it."

Spencer Reid x Sh!BAU!Reader

Author's notes- [ “has a good relationship with her family so she feels her actions are unjustified’ called me out personally and i need emotional compensation /j. Sorry these pieces have taken so long, a lot of my requests have been sh related and i wasn’t in the right headspace until recently, i hope you understand and i hope you enjoy this piece <3 also this is taken quite far from the prompt, so i’m sorry about that. I’ll definitely try to write more with reid and sh reader, so i’ll try to follow the request a bit more closely next time]

TW- {Self harm mentions, not super graphic, but it is a bit detailed, mentions of kidnapping and su!c!de (briefly), Eating habits mentioned, but not detailed at all, disassociation scenes, 2 of them i think, use of y/n}

1.2k words, enjoy

You looked down at your watch, watching the second hand tick all the way around the circle, desperately trying not to look up. If you looked up, all you would see is the dissapointed face of your best friend, Spencer.

You were sat on a stool near his kitchen counter. Usually if you were sitting here, there would be laughter and smiles, maybe pizza or some freshly baked cupcakes, but this was different. You only ever saw Reid like this once, when he sat you down to talk to you about your eating habits. You swore you would never do anything that would make him that upset again. You never wanted him to worry about you. He had enough on his plate, you would only be a burden. And yet, here you are.

You thought you were hiding it well, to be honest you really were. You never let anything slip, not a wince, not a complain, nothing. No one knew a thing, until today.

You were finishing a case, a rough one if you’re being honest. There was a young girl, one with scars everywhere, self inflicted. Everyone thought she had killed herself, except you and Reid. You both fought hard to find the girl. The team did end up finding her, she was trapped in some freaks attic. The case was closed, she was found, it was fine. You told yourself it was fine, you did your best to convince yourself that it didn’t bother you. It wasn’t until you were filling out your case reports that you finally let yourself dwell on it. You could hear Derek’s voice so clearly in your head, “Is it possible that she took her own life? It’s clear she has suicidal tendencies.” Even after JJ and Hotch explained the complexities of non-suicidal self injury, his words still rang in your head. You dont even know why it bothered you. I wasn’t judgmental, it wasn’t disrespectful, it wasn’t even a bad theory, but it rattled you. It’s like you could perfectly imagine them talking about you like that, like you were nothing but your habits. You knew that wasn’t how Morgan meant it, he was doing his job, you would do the same for any other case, but this one just stung.

As you thought about it, you faded into your mind. It’s like you weren’t even there at your desk, you were inside your head. Your nails found there way to your other hands knuckles. You were good at hiding the marks, and it was easy to lie about them. They were your hands, anyone would believe that you just knicked them, or got them stuck in your car door, or that your neighbors cat was a playful fella, or the countless other excuses you had saved in your resevoir. You never hurt youself in public, or when people could catch you, except today apperently. Your finger was red and bleeding by the time you snapped out of your haze. Or rather, was rudely dragged out of our haze by Spencer. You blinked a few times as you focused on him and what he was saying.

“Y/n stop that.” His hands were on yours. You were frozen for a second, your mind almost buffering, before the reality of that moment actually dawned on you. Without speaking a word you pulled your hands back and stoop up from your desk.

You grabbed your bag, sliding your unfinished report into your desk drawer, before beginning to walk off, “Good work Spence, I’ll see you tommorow.” You made your way to the elevator, ttrying to avoid the obvious footsteps following you. He put his hand on your shoulder as you made your way out of the building, gently guiding you to his car. You didn’t fight it, you knew you couldn’t, and you would really rather not make a scene in your work parking lot. You listened to the hum of his car air conditioner as he drove the all familiar route to his appartment. 

That’s how you ended up here. A few warm tears falling down your cheeks while Spencer silently stares at your shrunken figure. He was trying to find the words that he wanted to say, which was never a good thing. He was the Spencer Reid, he always knew what to say. 

He finally cleared his throat, after what felt like ages, “Non-suicidal self injury is a habitual addiction, but it’s possible to recover from it. You just have to tell someone about it, that’s step one. That’s always been step one. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know Spence. I’m sorry.” Your voice was small. You felt small compared to your all knowing best friend. You knew everything there was to know about self harm, sometimes it was the only thing you wanted to read about or learn about, sometimes you felt like it was the only thing you knew about,  but you knew this was how Reid helped, so you tried to stay calm as you let him tell you everything that you already had memorized. 

“We’re friends y/n, you can talk to me.”

You huffed at that, mumbling a small, “Yea friends.”

“You’re deflecting.” He sounded softer, you hurt him. You were deflecting, and now you feel worse than you did before. You hated this, you wanted to go home and relive this day. Your nails started to sink into the skin on your thigh.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Great, Spencer saw. Spencer knows. Spencers going to think your insane, he’s going to talk about you like your a victim. He’s going to talk to you like a baby and look at you like your bleeding out in front of him. He’s never going to think about you the way you think of him, your just some charity case for him. He doesn’t -

His hand grabs yours, taking it away from your leg. Before your brain can catch up with you, your arms are wrapped around him, pressing your face into his torso. Your tears are falling more freely now. You feel his hands run through your hair and rub against your back. You never feel more safe than you do when your in his arms, your thoughts can’t catch you here. 

You aren’t sure how long you stay like that before you gently pull away from him. You sit patiently as he examines your hands. You can see the hurt in his eyes, you do your best to ignore it. 

“I love you, y/n. I don’t want you to do this to youself. You can get help for this. You can talk to me about it if you need to.” He was soft, but not condescending. You could feel yourself melt, as though you needed another reason to love him.

“I can’t do that, I’ll just be a burden. This isn’t your baggage to carry.” You started to pull away again.

“It’s still your baggage, I just want to help you carry it. Let me help you, please.” His voice pulled you right back in.

You wiped the remaining tears from your face, “Okay Spence.” He sighed in relief, taking your hands and leading you to the couch. You both sat, you resting your head against his chest. You didn’t have to talk about it now. You knew you would eventually, but that's another thing about Spencer, you felt comfortable. You didn’t feel anxious about the impending conversations to be had, you weren’t stressing about him watching you or knowing your secrets, you simply felt safe. That was enough for now.

#yellowroseswrites #comfort fics #x reader #x reader fic #self h@rm #self harm fic #sh!reader #self h@rm reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reider #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #tw #spencer reid comfort

[criminalskies]

The Aaron Hotchner mega-masterlist part 2/?

Hi!! I wanted to make a sort of recommendation list for some Aaron Hotchner writers in this gorgeous community and what makes their work so special in my eyes. Please note this list is not exhaustive by any means. If you would like me to add you or your work to this list, please just fire me a message and I'll run through your masterlist or fics to see what you're all about <3

please note, this is a way to support writers on here. So play nice.

@tinyluvs - cait - does a great job of writing hotch x gen z type reader, without making the two seem out of place. The dialogue always feels like two real people having a very raw, in-character conversation. No matter the context, cait's delicate descriptions of the scenery and actions in every scene feel so soft and intentional. *note that cait also has an equally excellent characterisation of spencer* cait's masterlist.

@htchnr - aurora - beautifully places readers inside the mind of the main character, showing, not telling you how they feel, each and every sensation adding to their frustration or contentment. It really feels like I am in reader's shoes in each and every story. aurora is also working on minecraft hc's of reader teaching hotch how to play and that old man is struggling. the nostalgia mixing with my love for him may kill me. Aurora's masterlist.

@supercriminalbean - Al - writes some of the sweetest requests, and some very original ones at that. Most of their requests are in gender neutral reader and they just love to write pure comfort, which I adore. Mostly much shorter works which are just perfect after a long, hard day. Al's masterlist.

@spacecowboyhotch - Arson - has written an abundance of hotch fics, both sfw and nsfw, but all written with the same sophistication and beautiful imagery throughout. Arson does an amazing job of describing feelings I think we've all had but lack the words to explain, and it slots perfectly into the stories, really helping you understand how reader's feeling. Arson's masterlist.

Note, Arson @spacecowboyhotch has their own masterlist of Hotch writers on tumblr, which I will link here and here. It has been a massive help when exploring this beautiful community. <3

@ddejavvu - daisy/mei - has amassed over 10,000 followers here on tumblr alone with their multifandom works, her characterisations of every character never seem out of place. Despite having written enough hotch fics to fill up five entire masterlists, she still captures every beautiful aspect of him every time. Mei never ceases to surprise me with the shear creativity and inspiration she's able to deliver in each and every request. Mei's masterlist.

@moonlightspencie - Luna - Luna's shorter drabbles and longer fics are nothing short of inspired. she's created standalone fics or even her beautiful series from as much as a single song lyric. The character's battles between logic and emotion all play out right in front of your eyes as every fleeting thought and moment is captured in each story. Luna's masterlist.

@eldrai - Sam - works are more easily found over on AO3 where he writes an abundance of standalone aaron hotchner fics, all of which so elegantly portray Hotch's very logical way of thinking and how genuine he is in every aspect of his life. Sam also writes a lot of hotchgan (hotch/morgan) fics, which I think capture their dynamic so well, the ways they equally challenge and support each other, always there when they're needed. The way they communicate feels so real, I feel like a fly on the wall in their house xD.

@84hotpockets - this blog does that which is the backbone of fanfiction, filling the plot holes and the character backstories which were left untouched by the show's original writers. They do a fantastic job of diving into the untouched corners of hotch's psyche, how he felt about things like Roy's death or how he worked himself to exhaustion in season nine. They really make me feel for his character in ways the show didn't bother to in some plotlines, and it feels like closure to really consider the things that led to Hotch... being hotch. A wonderful read. Hotpocket's masterlist

@yuly - This writer really appeared on my dash one day and I'm yet to look back. Their series Child's Play broke my heart, stomped on it, and mended me, all in under 10k words. Her oneshots never fail to leave my heart reeling for Hotch, written so elegantly and descriptively, my poor heart is putty in her hands every single time. Yuly's masterlist.

@jaspxr - Jas - makes moodboards for our beloved old man, and I often find myself actually gasping at how beautifully made they are. I just cannot get enough. So, so well done.

@softhairedhotch - Casper - writes a wonderful mix of headcanons, blurbs, oneshots and thoughts, mixing between gender-neutral-reader and male reader, but one thing stays the same, this boy can write hotch beautifully. Soft!hotch is his specialty, I think. Noting every blushed smile, every appearance of his dimples and every time your long-time-boyfriend is shy to hold your hand Casper's masterlist

@ray4hotchner - Ray - has only written a few fics for aaron hotchner, but oh boy she has a wonderful grasp on who he is and he makes us tick. Ray's fics are fast-paced but never lacking in emotion. Ray's masterlist.

please feel free to submit yourselves or another hotch writing blog you know to be added to any future mega-masterlists, but make sure your blod has a masterlist or a collection of your works somewhere as this makes it 100x easier for me to navigate your blog and get to see what you're all about. :D Happy reading!

#rome's recs! #aaron hotchner #criminal minds

[veeluvss]

compartmentalise

emily prentiss x reader

pure fluff

>1K words

sitting across from em on the plane, i could tell she was processing the case. it had been a tough one, me and JJ had cried multiple times and morgan even got emotional. i hated them cases but i had to do my job. at the end of the day, that's what i was there for. to work, not to get attached.

i kicked my foot out, brushing it against my girlfriends leg. she looked at me, furrowing her eyebrows and i sent her a small smile, mouthing that i loved her. she blushed a little and lowered her head. she still wasn't used to the outward affection i liked to show- yet it was cute.

"do you want to play poker with me, y/n?" spencer asked, coming over with a deck of cards.

"yeah, let me just go to the toilet first," i said, standing up. he sat down and began dealing the cards.

once i returned, i slid into the seat next to emily. she obviously didn't react at first but i felt her settle, she breathed deeply and put her head back. i picked up my cards and began playing with spencer. it wasn't long before she leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder, shocking me and the rest of the plane. they knew we were together, however we'd been sworn to keep it as private as possible when at the workplace. in the field or just with the team we could do as we pleased. however, she still hadn't really been that different with me. i didn't mind! i hadn't been much different with her either, i just stayed closer to her and made sure she didn't put herself in unnecessary danger.

"you okay?" i whispered softly, looking down at her.

"just keep playing," she told me. i nodded and did so.

"all in," spencer said, pushing his skittles towards the middle of the table.

"you sure?" i asked, raising an eyebrow. he nodded and smiled. i shrugged and sent all of my skittles in, causing em to smile and chuckle.

"sh, keep a poker face," she nodded and let her face fall.

"straight flush for you y/n," spencer smirked, putting down his cards and going to take the skittles.

"ah, ah." i said quickly, putting down my cards. a royal flush. he gasped as i began taking the skittles back. i fed one to emily and ate one myself.

"you're as good as her," spencer groaned. i just shrugged and put down my cards.

"maybe it has something to do with that sin to win weekend in atlantic city they went on," morgan said, leaning over from his seat. the rest of the plane laughed and emily just smiled, snuggling in more to me. it made my heart flutter. she was never like this, hardly even at home! i soaked it up though, putting my hand on her thigh and moving her closer to me. she let out a small noise of content and closed her eyes.

"i'll play with ya kid," morgan said, picking up the cards. he sent me a smile and i smiled back at him. he knew i'd want to soak up this moment.

when we arrived back at my apartment, emily was still as clingy. she hadn't let go of my hand, only at the office and even then, she stuck close to me. following me to the bathroom and my office.

"you okay?" i asked for the fourth time that hour. she only nodded and went to sit on my kitchen counter. her favourite spot.

"do you want snacks?" i asked. she shook her head then lowered it. i pouted and went to stand between her legs. i cupped her cheeks and let her look at me. she had tears in her eyes.

"what's going on petal?" i asked softly, brushing her cheek with my thumb. she took a heavy breath in, letting her eyes close.

"this one was hard," she mumbled. i nodded, agreeing.

"it's just, it's just a bit harder to send to the back."

"you don't need to send it to the back love, talk it out with me," i told her. she sighed and began to shake her head but i didn't let her. "the more you send to the back, the harder it's going to hit you when it overflows. was it the children?"

"i don't know how the mother would treat them like that," she whispered, beginning to play with her hands. i knew she'd personalised some of it. with her mother not being the best either.

"me neither but they're in better place now," i said softly.

"abigail isn't," she muttered, we'd lost abigail in the house raid. she was standing face to face with the step father who had abigail in his arms, a gun at her head.

"the bloo-" she broke down then, not able to finish her sentence. i pulled her off the counter and into my arms, caressing her hair.

"she's in a better place than all of them. she can rest now," i told her.

"she deserved to life," she sobbed.

"baby, she deserved to be happy."

later that night, you lay in bed with a new comedy movie on. you wasn't paying much attention, snuggling up to emily. she was laughing at the movie but you were captivated by her beauty. her smile, her giggle, it made your heart explode. you leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, bringing her closer to you.

"i like this," she mumbled, wrapping her arms securely around your waist.

"me too." you told her, kissing her lips as she looked at you. it was slow and full of love. you did love her.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss head canons #emily #prentiss #wlw

[first-edition]

“I didn’t have any plans.”

//DO NOT COPY OR REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION//

Spencer x reader

Cw-Fluff, angst, library kisses.

Semi admitting feelings for you

“I didn’t have any plans.” Spencer says sitting cross cross in his chair.

“Good you can come with me to the library!” You say ruffling his hair.

“Ooh yes in need to find a new boook.” He says

“A book that pretty boy hasn’t read is gonna be a challenge.” Morgan says as you grab your bag. And spencer get up getting his.

“Night!” Emily says waving. You smile and wave back

———

You two walk into the library and you immediately walk to the romance section.

Scanning the shelf up and down taking out books reviewing them and then putting them back when you’ve found nothing.

“Y/n..” he says quietly not to disturb anyone nearby.

“Hmm?” You ask scanning the books.

“Can I ask you something.” He says

“Go for it.” You say

“This might seem out of the blue but with sam…how did you know he wasn’t good for you.” He says

“Oh um…hmm? I don’t know how to nessisarly explain that with out exposing myself. Hmm well for one im a profiler i guess and i don’t want someone who i can look at and know everything about, i like puzzles and sam was too easy. That sound rude but i just…that girl you were talking about a few months ago you still t-talking to her?” You ask .

“Yeah we talk everyday actually” he says rubbing his neck and talking a random book off the shelf.

“Okay then how do you know that she’s the one.. i mean its been long enough you should just tell tell her..” you say slightly hurt to tell him to go off with another woman even though you haven’t told him how you feel.

“Well.. she’s kind for one, after work shell tell me about her highs and her lows, when she’s not busy she gets me coffee with extra creamer, she’s selfless and smart, she’s friends with everyone around her and does the most when solving the cases.” He rambles but cuts himself off.

“She’s an agent.” You say blankly “sh-shit..yes.” He huffs you nod he shakes his hand and flips through the book he’s holding but quickly puts it back when realizing its fifty shades of grey.

“I um….I didn’t know you liked anyone at work.” You say turning to the book shelf focusing on the books.

“I shouldn’t have told you that..” he says “tell me more.” You say turning back to him.

“Sh-she does little things to make everyone happy. She goes shopping with Penelope, bring Morgan game ticket…” he moves closer to you “…takes extra time so notch can spend time with his family, brings family games for jj and her son, makes sure Rossi gets enough sleep…” he moves closer to you you’re back hitting the shelf blocking you from moving.

“…she spends nights with Emily watching movies…and when Elle was still around…helped her through the hospital.” He says his face moving closer to yours.

Now realizing he’s talking about you. “A-and what does she do for you?”

“Invites me to book stores, goes to cafes to watch the rain, straightens my ties, organizes my desk,…exists…and….made me fall in love with her.” He says his golden brown eyes looking into yours. “The shes in love with you too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him he kisses you back his hands gripping your waist. The kiss deepens as his hands move under your shirt his cold hands feeling your waist and lower back.

“S-Spence.” You gasp

“Can i ask you something.” You say he nods eagerly at you.

“When you said you didn’t have any plans tonight did you mean it?” You ask.

“Yes.” He replies.

“Good….you do now.” You say grabbing his hand and walking out of the library.

I’m taking requests now so if you’d like something written pls let me know!!!

#spencer fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer smut #Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid x reader smut

[red-dead-scribbles-ff]

Downtime and a Bath

A/N: Here we go again. Get ready for some awkward flirting, fluff, a lil humor. Oh- and Arthur getting a well-deserved head massage because he needs it. Partially proofread because well- I'm pretty stupid... and blind.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Partial Nudity

Summary: You take a part time job at a hotel near camp, hoping to find some leads on potential jobs for the Gang. Being called away from your normal duties to give a gentleman a Deluxe bath, the last person you expect to find in the tub is the Gang's enforcer, Arthur Morgan.

“Mabel? Mabel!”

The sound of the name bounces off the walls of the hallway in the Millis Hotel, and your actions come to a stop as you place a small stack of folded sheets onto the bed of one of the rooms.

You hear the clicks of a pair of shoes coming closer before a woman appears in the doorway looking rather strained.

“Ethel?” You speak up in question as the woman came to a stop next to the bed.

“Can… Well, can I ask you a favor?” She fiddled with the small pendant on her necklace as she spoke. She sounded nervous, it was a bit off-putting. 

“I suppose,” You respond calmly, continuing to place the new linens onto the mattress.

“My boy’s come down sick, and, well… I need to make a trip to the Doctor’s to get him medicine before it closes for the evenin. There’s just one more gentleman who ordered a Deluxe- is there anyway you could- take him, for me, so I can make the trip?”

You watched her for a moment, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth quietly.

“I wouldn’t be askin unless I was desperate, Mabel.” 

You had been working under the alias, Mabel, since you’d taken the job. It was something you knew the boys did when they went fishing in town. You figured it might come in handy for you just as well.

The Gang had arrived maybe three weeks ago, camping a few miles out from town. On Dutch’s orders, he wanted everyone to be on their best behavior while he and Hosea scoped out some leads. 

It took a lot of convincing, but you’d managed to convince them into allowing you the opportunity to start scouting for leads on your own for the first time. Taking a part-time position at the Hotel, you had plenty of opportunities to snoop. 

“How did he seem?” You ask hesitantly.

You hadn’t given a guest a Deluxe bath since an incident that happened around a week ago. 

You were an employee of the Hotel, not a workin girl. This individual didn’t seem to get the message and was handsy the entire time. You’d slapped him across the face the second his hand squeezed your backside while you were washing his opposite arm and well… The guest ultimately didn’t have to pay for his deluxe bath after you walked out. 

You’d gotten the manager to give you some time off from giving the Deluxe baths for a little while. But just as so, he was quite angry, and as a result, didn’t want you giving the baths to begin with. You filled the baths and prepped them, but aside from that, you managed the hotel and took care of the cleanliness of the establishment as well as tended to all the rooms.

“I only popped in for a second but he seemed nice.” She gave you a small shrug, seemingly still on her toes in wait for your answer. “I’ll reimburse you for it, of course!” She was quick to add, making you feel the least bit sympathetic.

She was a single mom with a young boy. She had told you she’d been a working girl over at the Saloon for a couple years before falling pregnant with her son. She’d left the Saloon for a job at the Hotel where she was less likely to have to deal with johns so often.

“Don’t worry about the money, Ethel.” You sigh, glancing towards the door. “Yer boy needs it. Just- if you could help me with the upstairs linens tomorrow, I’d really appreciate it.” You explain quietly as you place the last few pairs onto the bed.

You meet her eyes, seeing a warmth blossom in her expression as she sighs in relief.

“Thank you, Mabel.” She grasps your hands tightly in hers before making a hasty exit. Not a moment later she pops back in. “I already told him one of us would be back soon so just head in, he’s waiting.”

You smile and nod in response before she finally leaves.

You take in a deep breath as you eye the doorway before removing your coat, placing it on the basket on the bed. It would all be waiting there for you afterwards.

You adjust your dress, positioning the layers of fabric accordingly before buttoning some of the fasteners of your collar. You just hoped this one wasn’t handsy.

You walk out of the room and head down the hall towards the end where the bath room was.

Not giving much thought to wait a moment after knocking, you open the door and walk in before quickly turning to close it.

“Apologies, Mister. Hope you don’t mind if I take over things for ya?”

“Y/N?”

Your name leaves the stranger’s lips; your actual name, not your alias. You stand up straight before turning around quickly at the recognition of the rough voice.

“Mr. Morgan?!” You blurt out as you meet a pair of wide eyes belonging to none other than Dutch’s right hand man and enforcer - Arthur Morgan - in the bathtub. 

He looked just as surprised as you and seemed completely frozen.

You turned away quickly, averting your eyes as you held up a hand to prevent your wandering eyes from tempting another look at the man.

“I-I’m so sorry Mister-”

“What're you doing here?” He speaks up, preventing your stuttering from drawing on any longer.

“I- I work here, Arthur.” You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you look at the wallpaper for several long seconds, your hand now lowered as you collect your composure. “Dutch’n Hosea let me.”

It got quiet and you bit down on your inner cheek as you prayed for him to break the ice.

“I uh,” He trails off. 

“The girl you was gonna see had to leave early.” You explain further. “M’sorry, Arthur. I understand if you’d wanna be reimbursed, I’ll cover the charge.” You chance meeting his eyes for a brief time, seeing his brow knit together. 

He gave a small nervous chuckle before looking away for a moment, arms crossed awkwardly across his bare chest. “Don’t worry bout the money, y/n. I- um…” He cleared his throat, eyes tracing the rim of the tub before they graced the perimeter of the room and then finally returned to you.

“You already paid her, though.” You argue gently.

Part of you felt terrible. Here was a man you knew worked himself to the point of exhaustion. And you up and interrupted probably his first taste of relaxation in- who knows how long.

“S’fine.” He cleared his throat again, looking around the tub’s rim before meeting your eyes once more.

Gnawing lightly on the corner of your mouth you glance to the side before attempting to clear your own throat.

“I um… I mean I can do the- I’ll give you- I mean if you’re okay with it, I’ll…” You could feel the heat rising into your cheeks and onto your neck and chest even, as you pictured it. 

The job was not glamorous; having to soap up your hands and rub a bunch of dirty men all over until they were clean- after a while, it wasn’t all too bad. They were strangers after all. The standard wasn’t incredibly high, and you didn’t have to lay eyes on most of them ever again.

But this was- different to say the least. You knew Arthur. Fairly well. You had for a few years now. You weren’t exactly close, but you confided in each other on the rare occasion when a bad day arose. 

You couldn’t think of a situation more uncomfortable in your anticipation of his response.

“Oh, um,” A look of surprise on his face followed your proposal. “Well,” He seems to contemplate your offer for a few seconds. “I-I don’t wanna impose,” He swallowed before shaking his head, brow gently knit together. His own cheeks were red from what you assumed was the heat of the bath water, but maybe it was embarrassment. “I appreciate the offer, darlin. But trust me when I say you’ll regret offerin’ washing this,” He laughs awkwardly as he shrugs his shoulders and looks down at himself for a time. “I smell pretty bad right now.”

The statement didn’t surprise you. If anything, you didn’t expect Arthur to take up your offer to begin with. But you still felt like there was more to say regardless.

“Well,” You thought the situation over quietly before meeting his eyes to see he still had his arms crossed. His shoulders look a bit tense still, but not as bad as when you first walked in.

You were thankful for the amount of soap that had been added to the bath water. It was cloudy enough to completely obscure him below the waterline. 

“Would you be against it if I washed your hair?” You gesture to him lightly before subconsciously mirroring his crossed arms with your own. “You can tend to everything else. At least you’ll get some of your money’s worth.”

Despite him always having been kind to you, you still didn’t like the idea of cheating him out of money on account of this.

He breathes out silently and seems to look you over quietly before pushing his eyes up to meet yours. 

Small changes in his expression made it hard for you to look away as you watched quietly. He seemed to be battling himself on his answer. Part of you could see that clearly. 

Eventually his expression relaxed and he seemed to settle, somewhat, on an answer.

“I do appreciate it, I do.” He gave you a small smile. “But I don’t wanna impose, miss. It’s fine, really.”

You found it difficult to admit to yourself that his answer disappointed you a bit. Why, you weren’t sure. It’s not like you fawn over the man, but he was one of the sweetest out of most of the men in camp. He didn’t look at you like a notch to put on his belt like some of them did.

But… Maybe there was a reason he didn’t look at you like that. You wouldn’t consider yourself self loathing or critical of your appearance, but you didn’t believe yourself to be too much to look at. Ethel was pretty; not that Arthur could’ve known what the bath girl would look like, but you didn’t blame him for turning you down. 

You also knew about his previous love, Mary. She was mentioned on occasion, but whenever it was brought up, Arthur always denied any current relationship - always said it was a long time ago… You weren’t sure what that meant. It didn’t take a genius to figure out just how hard Arthur had fallen for her. 

Everything aside… Part of you didn’t blame him for turning you down. 

“I understand.” The response left your lips as you grasped at the fabric of your dress at your sides, giving him a small smile. “My apologies for disturbing you, Mr. Morgan.” You took hold of the door knob as you stepped backwards. “Job requires I stay close til you're done, so… I’ll be just outside the door if you need anything. Give a holler.”

You did your best to meet his eyes with an expression that painted a picture of easygoingness and understanding.

He gave you a small, lopsided smile, eyes slightly crinkled as he gave a small nod.

Stepping out of the room, you closed the door quietly before letting your forehead bump against it with a sigh. 

You felt disheveled in your own skin somehow as you turned to rest your back against the wall next to the door. 

Rocking back and forth on your heels, your eyes follow the artistic curves of the patterned wallpaper that lined the hallway wall across from you.

Part of you was surprised that Arthur didn’t know why you were here. Granted, you’d discussed it in private with both Dutch and Hosea. It took a couple of conversations to get them to give you the okay to go ahead with your idea. 

As far as you knew, none of the other girls had tried making money or getting information this way. Convincing Susan to let you try this method was the hardest part. Trying to convince her that you could bring in more money like this was… difficult to day the least. 

Given that you could have made the likes of fifteen dollars a day if you spent all your time trying to catch men in town - this brought money in on the long term as opposed to the short term.

That work was exhausting. You hated it. While you wouldn’t say you were bullied into it, there was some pressure from Susan, given the other girls participated regularly in bringing money in that way when not doing chores around camp. 

After having a close call with a man who was less than gentle, you’d cooked up the idea for this job. You seemed to have a knack for run-ins with less then kind men. You knew it was part of why Susan let you try this.

As the minutes passed, you continued to likely rock on your heels as you waited. Your hands fiddle with the fabric of your apron that was over your dress. 

“Hey uh… y/n?” The call of your name from behind the door caught you off guard as you quickly looked to the entrance next to you and hesitantly pushed off the wall. 

Your fingers rubbed against the palm of your hand as you paused at grasping the knob before breathing out quietly as you turned it and let the door swing open a crack.

“Yes?” You didn’t lean in too far, only enough to better hear him.

“I um…” You couldn’t see his face from your gaze on the door as you waited patiently, brow knit in uncertainty. “Do you- erm… Do you mind-”

His words were broken and muddled by how he muttered them under his breath and you finally decided to lean a bit further around the door frame to see him staring at the water with a firmly knit brow.

His eyes were quick to meet yours and he cursed quietly under his breath before glancing to the side for a time. 

His expression was strained, something that upset you. He was supposed to be relaxing. It seemed either your presence or the situation wasn’t helping the matter. Not waiting too much longer, you decide to try and help things along.

“I’ve had a few returning customers compliment my head massages,” You try to state the fact casually, catching his attention as he met your eyes. “But if you’d rather skip that I can just- give you a quick hair wash.” You offer.

He seemed to contemplate your words quietly before his expression relaxed and he gave a small smile and the tiniest shrug.

“Sure.” You’d always loved the long draw he put on the word, and the response took away your ability to hide your smile as you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you.

“To be fair,” You walked over to where there was a small stool near the fireplace, pulling it up behind the tub where Arthur was. “You’re paying me, and the money is going back to the Gang regardless,” You’d just take it out of your cut. The Gang needed it more. “So its a lil less awkward if you think about it.”

He laughed gently as he sat up, a small squeak emitting from the tub as he did so.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You dip a hand into the water briefly, rubbing your hands together to wet them before grabbing the bar of soap; you lather it up in your hands for a few seconds.

“Okay,” You hum quietly before using one hand to grasp lightly at the hair on the back of Arthur’s head, gently ushering him to tilt his head down a tad.

“Just until I get your hair soaped up, then you can sit up.” You reassure him.

“Whatever y’need me to do, just say the word.” He chuckled, the smile just visible out of the corner of your eye as you were positioned just so behind and adjacent to him. 

You take the bar of soap to his hair for only a brief time, rubbing it along some of the longer hair at the back of his head between your hands before setting the bar of soap aside. 

After ushering his head back up, you begin to lightly rake your hands through his hair and along his scalp, scratching gently to get up any dirt and grim.

It was quiet for a couple minutes as you did so; you occasionally caught Arthur tracing the sides of the tub with his hands as he seemed to try and occupy himself.

“What do men usually- talk about while here? When they’re getting bathed?” Arthur suddenly asked, his voice leaking with amusement as he tried to seemingly break the ice.

You slowed your actions for a brief moment as you thought over the question.

“Well- the talkers usually ask if I’m spoken for.” You start.

Arthur chuckles before nodding his head.

“I don’t doubt that.”

“But some just… Like to rant.” You shrug, using both hands to usher Arthur to turn his head away from you briefly. 

You run your hands forward along the sides of his head, scratching lightly along his scalp up to his temples before running your hands over the hair, pulling most of the bubbles and foam back away from his face. 

“Talk about their jobs, money, their wives… While I’ve had my share of bad apples, most men just… Need someone to listen.” You shrug gently, ushering his head to face forward again as you continue.

“Yeah?” The response was quiet, almost seemingly distracted, but you paid it little mind.

“Mm,” You hum quietly in response before getting a bit more soap on your hands, taking a small glance at Arthur’s face, seeing him looking down- or were his eyes closed? You weren’t sure, but now was the time to sneak in the other half of your job- which was getting the customer to relax. Something you knew Arthur desperately needed.

Quietly getting to your feet so you had better leverage, you ran your soaped up hands through his hair again, and up over the top of his head before you began to apply pressure with your thumbs to his hairline, rubbing in circular motions.

You didn’t get too much of a reaction at first as you continued, eventually getting Arthur to lean back enough that his head touched the back rim of the tub, and you had the perfect position to continue.

You could clearly see his eyes closed now, and you smiled victoriously to yourself as you continued your hands down to massage the hairline along the temple areas. 

“Mm…’thought you said just a hair wash,” He mumbled quietly.

You slowed your actions, waiting to see if he’d look at you. When he didn’t, you paused your hands’ actions, flickers of nervousness starting to take their hold.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“Hell no,” He laughed before he quickly stopped and swallowed. His blue eyes opened to look up at you from where you stood behind the tub. “I-I mean… No. Um, please keep going.”

The change of tone made you smile as you slowly reestablished your pace. His eyes close again in a matter of seconds as you continue; your fingers run down to the base of his scalp before circling down around the back of his hair. 

You used your nails to lightly rake their way along his scalp at the nape of his neck earning a small grunt that was bordering enough on a moan that it made you let out an audible chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for enjoying yourself, Mister Morgan.” You chuckle once more at this response as you shake your head.

He was a funny man. You all didn’t talk all too much, but you knew enough about him that you were comfortable in his presence. He was much more reserved then the other members of the Gang.

“D’you prefer ‘Mister Morgan’ or ‘Arthur’?” You ask quietly after a moment of thinking over your previous statement. Your actions pause as you lean to the side.

“Erm… The last one.” He mumbles, seemingly choosing not to open his eyes.

“Okay,” You know your smile is detectable in your voice as you continue.

Your eyes trace along his hairline before lowering to his face as you watch him quietly with innocent curiosity and appreciation.

The sight of someone you were so used to seeing on edge, alert, and hypervigilant at times, was so foreign to you. Seeing the absence of tightness in his brow, his now relaxed and unclenched jaw, and audible, even, breathing almost seemed rewarding; something few people ever witness from ‘Dutch Van Der Linde’s ruthless enforcer’- as you’d heard him called by so many.

Just gaining his permission to be around him when he was in a considerably vulnerable state felt like some kind of accomplishment. It flattered you that he reconsidered your offer and now seemed to be enjoying himself.

Sliding your hands through his hair, you gently rake your fingers along his scalp and behind his ears, before going further down the back of his head to the nape of his neck. 

You’d managed to get a bigger reaction in that region.

You mirror your actions on both hands, using your nails to carve paths through his hair before flattening the pads of your fingers out to massage the area.

Arthur breathes out deeply through his nose, urging you to focus on the area for a minute following the reaction.

“How long you been doin’ this?” His voice was lower in pitch, hinting at his relaxed state.

“Couple weeks now.” You respond, removing one hand from his head to go for the pitcher sitting on the floor next to the tub. “As of recent, I’ve been tending to the room maintenance, but I’ve been doing Deluxes as well.”

“Any leads?” He opened his eyes, looking up to meet yours. 

You pause for a moment, bringing the empty pitcher to your lap before looking down at the object for a brief time.

“I’m not sure. Maybe. Got a couple of men staying here that’ve been talking about something that may be of interest. But until I know for sure I’m keeping the details private.”

“Well if you think you’ve got something lemme know.” He responds, pushing himself to sit up a hair before his eyes meet the pitcher. “Need me to lean back?”

“If you don’t mind,” You chuckle before coming to your feet. Dipping the jug into a pale of water sitting off to the side of the fireplace, you bring the full pitcher back to the tub and hold it in one hand before touching your other hand to Arthur’s head.

“I don’t wanna get soap in your eyes so, keep ‘em closed and lean back for me.” You chuckle, seeing he’d already gotten most of the way ready for you.

Gently bracing your hand along his forehead to block the water from his face, you pour some of the room temperature water over his hair to rid it of the soap. 

“Thanks, for this.” He spoke up. “M’feeling pretty foolish for turning you down at first.”

“S’okay.” You chuckle quietly before setting the pitcher down, running your hands back over his hair to rid it of any excess water. “S’good for you to get some downtime.

“It was your idea,” Arthur breathes out before laughing quietly to himself.

You slow your actions as you process his words, you brow knitting gently.

“It was?” 

“Yeah, you mentioned it not too long ago,” He turned to look up at you as you slowly proceeded to run your hands back through his hair, squeezing the excess water out from the ends now and again.

You met his eyes with your confused ones before racking your brain for what he was talking about. I took almost a minute before your thoughts finally rested on a particular night where the two of you had talked about sleeplessness. Arthur had been out scouting for a new location with Bill for almost a week, and when he got back, he mentioned that despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep.

You’d told him to try getting a bath in town and renting a bed for the night before they moved camp.

“Arthur- that was almost a month ago,” You feel your own concern leak through in your voice.

“I know,” He sighed quietly before looking away briefly. “Was just… too busy I guess.”

“You should take better care of yourself,” You mumble gently as you continue to run your hands through his hair, more so for the hell of it then anything else. The washing part was done. “You’re no good to the Gang if you pass out from exhaustion.”

He chuckled deep in his chest before giving a small nod. “Point taken.”

You snatch a small towel from the nearby table and start to squeeze what water you could from the ends of his hair at the back of his head some more. His eyes traced back and forth from one corner of the room to another before he cleared his throat.

“How uh… How long does your shift last?” The question seemed to hang in his mouth as he slowly vocalized it, and you lowered the now damp towel onto your apron.

“Well, usually I leave around 4.”

“In the morning?” Arthur turned to face you a bit more, causing the water to slosh gently.

“Mm hm,” You nod as you begin to fiddle with the towel before quickly folding it in your lap. “I usually wait ‘til its light before heading back to camp.”

“You ain’t walkin are you?” He sat up a little bit, and you looked up to see his brow knitting together as he eyed you.

“W- I’m,” You pause, although you aren’t too sure as to why as the seconds tick by. You do walk most of the time. You didn’t want to leave a horse hitched at the hotel all day. And you couldn’t afford to pay for a stable space either. “M- Most of the time, yes.” 

You try to shrug it off before going to towel off Arthur’s hair some more, seeing his expression unchanging as you obscured half of his face in the towel, using your fingers to tussle his hair about under the fabric. 

Finally removing the towel, you meet the same expression. One that was of clear concern.

“I’m fine, Arthur.” You can’t help but laugh at his unchanged expression. “Really, I am.” You smile as you get to your feet, walking across the room to hang the towel up to dry before grabbing a couple of medium sized ones for Arthur. “It’s always nice out in the mornings, and this area ain’t so bad.”

Cradling the towels against you, you came to a stop next to the tub, meeting Arthur’s troubled gaze as he looked up at you. A smile escaped you by way of his obvious worry.

“I appreciate the concern, though.” You lean over, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. “Truly.” The act was followed almost instantly by a softening of Arthur’s expression as he looked down with a small smile before meeting your eyes again with the littlest of nods. 

“Alright, well,” He watched as you set the towels down on the stool you’d previously sat in. “If you insist.” He nodded before meeting your eyes again.

You grasp at the edges of your dress momentarily before giving him a small smile, glancing about the room.

“Anything else I can get you, Arthur?”

You watched him quietly as he processed your question. His expression began to relax and he looked down to the water before meeting your eyes again with a small shake of his head.

“No, Miss, I think I’m good.” He gave you a small smile. 

“Alright, well, you take your time gettin out. I have to go wash some linens, so I guess I’ll see you at camp tomorrow.” You gesture to the door as you take a few steps towards it. “Hope you’ll be leavin feeling a little better.”

“More than,” He breathes before gesturing to you with a hand. “Thank you,” He gave a small dip of his head. “Really.”

You can’t help the smile that washes over your face as you nod. “Anytime,” You chuckle before grasping at the knob to pull the door open. “Night Arthur.”

“Night,” You meet his smile through the doorway once more before closing it.

“Need anything else, Mr. Millis?” You call as you round the corner in your normal attire. Your posture was enough to clue in how tired you where, and while a part of you wanted to hide it, you were too tired to care at that point whether or not your employer noticed.

“No… No thank you, Mabel.” James Millis, the owner and manager of the Hotel was partially preoccupied with the bookings as you walked up to the desk. “You’re free to go, I’ll see you this evening.”

“Alright, good day.” You give him a small nod before turning to head for the door.

“Oh uh- Miss, I noticed a fella waiting out there.”

“Pardon?” You turn to look at your boss.

“Looked like one of the fellas from last night. Just come back in if you need any assistance.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Millis.” Despite the fact that this job was just a means to get information for the Gang, you appreciated the kindness your boss had shown you. He wasn’t too bad. 

Exiting the Hotel, you looked up and down the deck before your eyes landed on a man sitting on a bench against the building on your left hand side.

His hat was pushed down over his face, and you could hear subtle snoring from the individual. 

Stepping outside, you gathered your coat together, tucking it in with one hand before taking a few steps closer to the familiar sight.

“Um, Arthur-” You tap him lightly on the arm. 

His snore cuts off and one foot swings out forward as he jumps where he sat.

“Wha- Erm, uh” He grumbled as he sat up and quickly pushed his hat back up as he turned to meet your eyes. “Oh hey, I uh-”

“What're you doing here?” You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you as you look around. The town was barely awake yet. The sun wasn’t up, and the sky only dimly lit the main road.

“I was-” He looked around briefly before looking up towards you once more. “Getting a bite to eat.”

You nod slowly before glancing down the street towards the Saloon, which was at the other end.

“You’re a little ways away from a bite to eat.” You note casually, seeing color start to rise in his cheeks before he cleared his throat and got to his feet.

“Well, I was um,” He removed his hat and quickly ran his hand back over his head. “I was wondering if you’d wanna get uh- bite… To eat…. With me.” 

You watched as he finished putting his sentence together and felt your own face begin to heat up at his offer as your jaw slackened.

“Thought maybe we could- also discuss any leads you might have going,” He adds, gesturing to the side with his hat. “If you’d like to.”

You were at a loss for words, but the look on his face alone was enough to send a burst of energy through your body and made you feel like a blushing teenager as it became evident he was waiting for an answer.

“O-Ok,” You tried to hide the surprise you were still feeling, but it was quickly replaced with a warmth that flooded your chest when his expression brightened. 

“Yeah?” He looked hopeful, and it made you smile even bigger.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You laugh gently as he puts his hat back on his head.

He quickly looked down at his boots before meeting your eyes with a smile that made his eyes crinkle in what you could only describe as adorable when he held out a bent arm to you.

“Arthur,” You pause briefly before taking his arm with a chuckle as you both begin walking down the stairs. “If you ever need a head massage again, you don’t need to bribe me y’know,” You mumble quietly.

“This ain’t a bribe,” He argues back, the playfulness to his tone more than evident as you grin.

“You sure?”

“Mm hm.” He nods as you both continue to walk down the side of the road, out of the way of the few wagons that were out. 

“Okaaay.” You trail off, giving him a look that caught his attention rather quickly.

“It ain’t a bribe!” He laughs. 

“The timing is pretty suspicious.”

“If you’d allow me, I’d- also like to pick you up in the mornings after yer shifts end.”

You look up to him, the playful expression on your face falls after a moment and a genuine smile takes its place.

“It’d- well… I’d feel better knowing where y’were.” 

You smile and shake your head, looking forward down the road as you both walk at an even pace.

“Such a gentleman.”

“I uh,” He laughs under his breath before giving a shake of his own head. “I talked to Dutch… Hosea too. They thought it’d be good for you to have someone, y’know… escort you during the darker hours.”

“You all don’t think I can handle myself?” You look at him, voice bordering on confusion when he turns to you rather quickly.

“No it isn’t that, just- Y’know… I’d like-” He sighed before glancing down at you, seeing the biggest grin on your face, causing his expression to fall before he looked away.

“You ain’t making this easy, darlin.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your voice falls flat as you try to hide your smile in the face of his amused expression when he raises an eyebrow. “For what its worth, I’d… I’d like the company,” You feel the words shake a bit as you admit the statement, and chance a look towards Arthur.

His expression softens and a smile pulls at one side of his mouth. You had probably seen more emotional expression in the man in the last twenty-four hours than you had in the last several years of knowing him.

Crossing the street, Arthur lets your arm slide away from his as he pushes one of the Saloon doors open.

“After you,” He says with a gesture through the doorway.

You’d lost count of the number of times you’d smiled now, but you feel the corners of your mouth pulling and your cheeks noticeably ache with your display of contentment before you walk in with Arthur close behind you.

“All this from a little downtime and a bath, huh?” You give him a playful look over your shoulder and raise an eyebrow.

“Well, I guess you could say I’m starting to rethink my priorities a little bit.” He laughs. “I needed that, and you were right. I… Should probably take care of myself a little more.”

“Probably?” You turn as you come up to the bar and lean your back against it. 

He puts his hands up in surrender, a grin just barely obscured from under his hat before he met your eyes.

The both of you take a spot at the bar and look at the sparse menu.

“Ugh, I’m starvin,” You sigh as you quickly note the only food item was oatmeal. Even that sounded good right about now.

“When’d you eat last?” Arthur gestures towards the bartender with a hand.

“Stew yesterday afternoon before I left camp,” You shrug, watching the man behind the counter.

“Yesterday?” Arthur laughed. “You should take better care of yourself, y’know.”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips as you try to glare at him, coming face to face with the boyish grin on his face. “Don’t you even start, Arthur.”

Feedback is appreciated 💗 I’d love some constructive criticism if there are aspects of writing a reader that I can improve upon.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #van der linde gang #red dead fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead fandom #rdr2 community

[cleclercbaby]

Chasing Cars - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Fem!FBI Agent!reader x Criminal Minds

Mentioned Cast: Criminal Minds Cast (Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau/JJ, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan)

Word Count: 2086

Warning: mention of guns, m*rder word, sh**ting, AND THIS IS MY FIRST TIME SO BEAR WITH ME🫶🏻

Location: Los Angeles (Made up location)

Summary: as a Supervisory Special Agent, your team have been assigned to a murder case which involved street robberies… but then Charles Leclerc comes into action. (Inspired by a CCTV footage of Charles chasing down his watch thieves.”

Abbreviation: UnSub (Unknows Subject- The criminals), B.A.U (Behavioral Analysis Unit)

----------

You put a black sunglasses as you get out of the airport. You and the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit Team split into two different SUVs as you, Reid, and Hotch go straight to the LAPD office while Derek, Emily, and JJ go to the crime scene. The case the B.A.U team is working on is about some murder that took place in Malibu with stealing expensive watches as the modus operandi. We believe that the UnSub is more than one person.

All the victims were found in the alleys and all of them have lost their expensive watches. The B.A.U team came to the conclusion that the victims had fought back the UnSub but instead got murdered in the middle of the fight.

Your team arrived at the LAPD office 5 minutes later. The LAPD has set up the office for your team. Hotch, Reid and you directly setting up the files and the map. Reid spent another minute doing the geographic profiling as you and Hotch talked to Sergeant Reyes about the evidence.

Hotch’s phone rings and it shows Garcia’s name on the screen. Penelope Garcia is our tech analysis. She’s doing her job back at our office in Quantico.

“Yes, Garcia. You’re on speaker.” Hotch says, his eyes still fixed on the victim’s pictures.

“I got the brand name of those expensive watches. Rolex and Richard Mille, they only stole these two brands.” She says as her typing sounds got faster. “The UnSub let go of 2 victims who wore another brand.”

“Do you have the name of those 2 victims?” You ask her.

“Of course, Honey. Their names are Jacob Rhodes and Lilian Harris. I’ve sent their addresses to your phone. Ciao!”

With that information, Hotch calls Derek to go to those addresses and talk to the victims.

—

“Fuck!” You mutter under your breath as you try to control the steering wheels. You end up in this situation because Hotch asked you and Emily to watch the UnSub when Garcia sent the address of their whereabouts to the team. Your team have two UnSubs who match the profile. Greg Finn and Tyler Brendan.

You and Emily wait for them silently and patiently inside the car, until a man gets out of his car in front of the UnSubs. The UnSubs seem to know the man because they ask for something. You frown, thinking about the worst thing about the man being their leader or something, but then they hold up their phone to take a selfie with the man. What? Is that man a celebrity?

You try to look closely, but you just can’t see the face clearly. You’re not that far from them but they’re facing the opposite direction which makes it harder to see the man’s face. They seem good for a while until everything turns into chaos when the thieves run to their car as the man shouts at them.

“Merde! My watch!” He shouts while he abruptly gets into his car, trying to get ahold of the thieves car.

You and Emily are trailing behind him and my god! He is fast. “Watch out!” Emily yells.

“Fuck!” You mutter under your breath as you try to control the steering wheels. “How is he driving so fast?”

“Girl, he’s driving a Ferrari. Of course he is fast.” Emily replies, as it is so obvious.

“Damn! We need to get one so we can be fast when catching the criminals.” You joke, trying to ease up the situation. Emily laughs, agreeing with you before she calls Derek to let him know where the UnSub is heading.

“I’m ready at the end of the road, bring them here Y/N.” Derek says through the speaker.

“Copy that.” You reply. “Their victim is chasing them too. It seems like they tried to ask for a selfie then stole the watch and ran afterwards.”

“There was no fight?” Now Hotch turns to ask through the speaker, “They just ran?”

“Yes, they just ran.” Emily answers him. “We’re close. Do you guys see them?”

“Alright. We’re gonna cut him from here.” Derek says then turn off the call.

“Wait the man’s car didn’t know Derek is gonna cut them off, he’s on high speed with a fucking Ferrari.” Realisation hits you as you think of the worst thing that will happen if he didn’t slow down.

“Damn it! You’re right.” Emily cursed, “I’m putting on the siren. Can you drive faster?”

“I’m trying. Might as well be an F1 driver after this case, though.” You groan, trying to drive faster so you can get to the man’s car. You’re not a big fan of driving this fast so you feel your hands are sweating. It makes you grip the steering wheels harder so you don’t slip.

Finally you’re trailing right behind the man. You try to overtake him but he’s driving like a freaking pro F1 driver. Fuck it! “Emily, turn off the siren and shout at him. I’ll try to get as close as possible. This man thinks he’s in F1 and doesn’t let me overtake.”

Emily does as you said. She turns off the siren then puts herself over the car window. “SIR. I’M SSA EMILY PRENTISS FROM FBI AND I ORDER YOU TO SLOW DOWN.” Emily shouts as loud as possible and you hope he hears him.

Thankfully, he heard her and slowed down his car so you finally can drive right beside him. You gesture your hand to ask him to roll down his window.

“Charles Leclerc?” You’re surprised and not surprised. Surprised because you never thought of seeing your favourite F1 driver here and not surprised because like you said, he’s driving like a pro F1 driver and my god, of course he drives a Ferrari.

You’ve always been a F1 fan but the job makes it hard to catch up with the races and the driver. Sure, he is your favourite but you don’t even know what type of Ferrari he drives daily. You rarely watch F1 races ever since you joined the B.A.U team 3 years ago. The day you get to watch it was on your phone while you were writing your report at the office.

“They stole my watch.” He says. My god his accent! You always love his accent.

“My team will cut him off. That’s why we ask you to slow down. Now I’m gonna go first and you need to trail behind me. Don’t overtake me because it would be dangerous as you’re their target.” You explain to him.

He nods, “Okay, Agent.”

“Y/N!! Is that Charles Leclerc? Your favourite F1 driver that you and Hotch talked about a lot?” Emily smiles, she can’t hide her excitement for you. She knows how much you idolised Charles.

“Yes. Oh my god, why should we meet in this situation? So chaotic.” You groan.

“Girl, are you kidding? This is the best situation. He might become your fan after this.” Emily says.

You roll your eyes, “Being my fan, my ass! I’m not that cool .”

“C’mon! You and I know that we’re really good at this job and we’re badass. How can he not become a fan after seeing you catching some criminals?”

You shrug, “I don’t wanna be delusional.”

As Emily would talk again, she got cut off by the scene in front of us.  There are Hotch and Derek pointing guns at the UnSubs while the UnSubs do the same. The LAPD officer also surrounded them with their guns pointing at them. They can’t go anywhere.

“Shit! They’re armed.” You cursed, then quickly parked the car. You and Emily get out of the car with your gun pointing at the UnSubs. One of them knows you’re there so now he’s pointing the gun at you and Emily. It’s Tyler.

“We both know this is useless. Lower your gun!” You demand, but they don't seem to be affected by you. “I said lower your gun!”

“Agent.” Charles calls you. Shit! You nearly forgot that he was there behind your car.

“Step back, Charles.” You say to him but your eyes don’t move from the UnSub. You can see Hotch look at Charles but quickly divert his attention back to the Unsub.

“We just need this watch.” Tyler says, “we don’t wanna cause any trouble.”

“You think we don’t know that you murdered those victims after you stole their watch?” Derek says to them.

Greg gulps. His face turns pale after hearing that information. Bold of them to assume that your team don’t know what they did.

“Just get down and we’ll talk more at the office.” Hotch says calmly, try to make the situation as safe as possible so nobody gets hurt and the UnSubs go to the custody alive. “We want to know more about you.”

Tyler seems to think about it. You knew from Garcia that Tyler is the submissive and Greg is the Dominant. So in this situation, Tyler is more likely to surrender. When Greg sees Tyler thinking about it, his instinct of flight or fight got the best of him as he knows they can’t flight, he points his gun to Charles, his finger is ready to fire the gun. But before he can do anything, you quickly shoot him right in the chest. Greg’s blood splatter to Tyler as he screams and puts down his gun.

Derek quickly gets Tyler and puts a handcuff on him while Hotch checks Greg’s heartbeat. He looks at me then shakes his head. It means Greg is dead.

You and Emily let out a sigh of relief. It was a clean shot and a clean take down even though one of the UnSub is dead. So you see it as a successful take down and glad it is over.

“I believe there’s someone who wants to talk to you.” Emily whispers to you.

You see Charles walking towards me with a smirk on his face. “I didn’t know an FBI agent could know my name.”

You chuckle, “My boss is a big fan of yours. Of course I know your name.”

“How about you?” Charles asks, furrowing his perfect brow.

“Me? How about me?” You ask him, confused about what he means.

“Are you a fan, too?” He asks me. His eyes fixed on yours.

“She’s a huge fan. A total tifosi but never had time to watch a full race because of the job.” Emily chimes. You guess she can’t take your bullshit anymore because she knows you probably say no.

Charles smiles. His dimples showing as he does it. Oh, how cute! “Glad to know a brave, badass FBI agent is a tifosi.”

“Not a big deal.” You mumble. “Alright, I’m a huge fan then what?”

“Then I would like to ask you to come to the paddock on Sunday. I have a race here.”

“Huh? Me? I—”

“She’ll come. I’ll make sure of it.” Emily says with a huge smile on her face. “She’s got VIP Access then?”

“Of course. I’ll arrange the VIP’s for the FBI Team. I’d be happy if you all want to come. This is the least I can do as a thank you for saving my life tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re just doing our job.” You stated, trying so hard not to scream yes when he said about the VIP thing.

Charles smirks and without saying anything to you, he walks to Hotch and Derek. He shakes their hands then talks to them a bit then looks at you with a big smile. 

“Your boss says yes.” He says when he is in front of you. “I’ll see you in the paddock.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Nice one, though”

He winks at you. HE FREAKING WINKS!! “I need your number for the VIP information.”

Trying so hard to control your scream, you give him your name card. He takes it with a smile then reads it. Oh stop smiling! Your heart can’t take his smile anymore. He’s too cute.

“Alright then, see you in the paddock Supervisory Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N”

--------

Whoa can't believe I made it here haha. please let me know what you think.

Ciao ciao.

All the love.

Edith

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #ferrari #criminal minds #charles leclerc x criminal minds #charles leclerc x you

[reaveries]

▬  an admiration for perennials

summary: arthur meets a woman with an affinity for cliff maids

pairings: high honor!arthur morgan pov x female!reader

warnings: sad introspective arthur, sh*t word (:o), mention of mary, dying from flu, pollen (?? this thing is so fluffy, i'm grasping for straws here)

word count: 6.2k (estimated 26-minute reading time)

a/n: i have proofread this piece so.. many.... times... i'm so ready to finally publish it and get it the eff away from me. i hope y'all like it, i'm really happy with how it turned out! (i think, i can't tell anymore). i have a part two outline in the works so if you'd like to see that, please let me know by interacting w/ the post! also, this is categorized as a reader/self-insert but at one point there is very brief character description. i try to keep that to an absolute minimum and leave it generally gray enough to remain a self-insert fic. if that bothers you, i'm sorry, just overlook it! anyways, njoy, pardners <3

masterlist archive of our own

Revised for clarity 1/5/2024.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette between his lips, letting the harshness of the warm smoke enter his chest with ease. The cigarette had nearly met its end, so he knew it was getting to be that time. He jabs it into the ashtray along with the ashes from all the other bargoers and bids the barkeep a good night, leaving some change for his good company.

Unfortunately, Arthur hadn't found the solace he was searching for in the homely saloon. He’d filled himself to the brim with watered-down beer and a few shots of whiskey when he felt especially plagued by his thoughts. But as he pushes open the swinging doors and steps into the cool night air, his head still swarms with a myriad of upsetting things. 

His life is a complicated mess, though part of him knew it always had been. It just wasn’t until recently that he realized how unnecessary it was for it to be such. On the same street where he currently stands, he’d been responsible for putting lead in the heads of countless men a few weeks prior. He didn't even know their names, and he surely doesn't remember their faces. It was a wholly avoidable disaster. Not to say he’s bothered by the act of killing, for when he finds it justified to end a man’s life, there’s often no reason to dawdle. No, the mess of it all perturbed him the most. 

Undeniably, the land he calls home is becoming a different entity than the one he was born into, a land of law and structure that spits upon his way of life. The West is becoming a docile place, its wildness broken by the cracking whip of civilization. And if the West can’t survive, then all hope is lost for men like him. The only logical step to ensure that he, and the people he cares for, won’t meet their fates at the end of a rope is to adapt to this changing world. This meant mess would have to be a thing of the past. No more massacres over stolen oil wagons and certainly not wiping out an entire town to free a man he didn’t care for from a cell he belonged in. No more innocent bystanders gruesomely losing their lives over foolishly shallow plans like the botched ferry job in Blackwater. No more lives need to be taken for his benefit or the ambitions of the man who guided him. Somehow though, that man didn’t see things the way he did.

Whenever he brought up these concerns, Dutch always told him, “Don’t be so simple-minded, Arthur. Look at the bigger picture.” 

But the bigger picture was all he could see, and it was a terrifying sight.

His heels sink into the damp earth as he makes his way to Saint’s Hotel, crossing his fingers that a room is available for the night. He made the mistake of riding his horse with a stomach full of liquor before, and somehow it almost ended up with him drowning. How he ended up sopping wet and his horse dry as a bone is still a mystery to him. So, a room at Saint's is in order since he doesn’t particularly care to die tonight, even despite the pervasive thoughts that plague him.

Just as he’s about to step onto the hotel’s wooden porch, he hears a loud banging noise come from behind him. He turns around and, in the darkness of night, sees a woman knocking on the front door of the general store across the street. She raps her knuckles a second time against the door, just as loud as the first. The door opens and out steps the store owner, looking irritated.

“Hi, I know you’re about to close, but I’ll just be a second, I promise!” She says this with her hands clasped together.

“Alright, alright. Come on in,” the man says, stepping aside so she can enter.

As the woman moves past the older man, light from inside the store hits her, and he can see her more clearly. She’s dressed simply with her hair loosely pulled back into a plait that falls past her shoulders. These things are ordinary enough, but then the light catches on a dainty pink flower tucked behind her ear on the left side.

He stops in his tracks.

It looks identical to the one he keeps at his bedside, a memento of his mother. However, those flowers, cliff maids, he thinks they’re called, only grow out west in the rocky terrain bordering Oregon and California. He’s a long way from California and possibly even further from a level head, so he dismisses the possibility, chalking it up to the delusions of a drunken old man.

He heads into the hotel, and thankfully a room is available, the same one as always. He closes the door behind him and starts fumbling with his gear, letting it hit the floor haphazardly in a heap. As he stumbles over to the bed, he regretfully catches a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror. He usually tries to avoid looking at himself unless it’s absolutely necessary. Simply put, he doesn’t like the look of the man who stares back at him. There’s a residual yellow blotch fading away on his cheekbone from a dust-up he’d been in a few days prior. He doesn’t even remember the reason. His shoulder-length hair has tangles he’s had no energy to comb through, and his eyes are lidded for want of sleep. They have a far-out look even when he’s staring right at himself. 

“Maybe it’s you that’s the mess,” he mumbles, then gives way to his exhaustion and collapses against the mattress. His boots, spurs and all, remain on his feet. So remain his worn trousers and unbuttoned maroon shirt, and so does the dirt caked beneath his nails that never seems to leave. 

He checks out of his room early the following day and rides out beneath a sky as golden as dandelions. His mind feels clearer after a night’s rest, and he thankfully doesn’t feel as dreadful as he did when his head hit the pillows. Dew hangs in the chilled air and mists his face as he takes the beaten winding path leading back to Clemen’s Point, this new place his people called home. As he rides, he passes by some cottages and homesteads a ways off the path. He can recall the inside layout of a few of them, and even which ones filled his pockets the most back when he first arrived in the Heartlands.

Tall, thick-bodied oak trees loom over him and dance in the morning breeze. The way the sunlight flickers through them is beautiful but unfamiliar. It quickly becomes apparent that he’s taken the wrong path somewhere along the way, but just when he’s about to wheel his horse around and turn back, there lies a cottage beyond the tree line. 

It’s a quaint wooden home with a thin stream of smoke rising from the chimney. In the window of the cottage sits a vase of pink flowers. The closer he rides, the more confident he is that they’re cliff maids. There must be at least twenty stems in that one vase.

“I’ll be damned….” He says under his breath.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of a woman grunting coming from the side of the home. He presses his heels to his horse’s belly and trots toward the noise source. When he turns the corner of the house, he sees her, the woman he saw last night, pushing a wheelbarrow spilling over with dirt. She attempts to use her weight against the handle, but it hardly makes a difference, and the wheelbarrow doesn’t budge.

He clears his throat to make his presence known to the woman.

“Jesus Christ!” She yelps and turns to face him, shocked to see she has company.

“Didn’t mean to frighten ya. D’ya need any help, ma’am?” He asks.

She looks him over with caution.

“Uh, I’m alright, thanks,” she says slowly, her brows warily drawn together.

Arthur nods his head with a tight-lipped smile and pulls the reins to head back to where he came from. He considers asking her about the flowers in the window but disregards it seeing as she doesn’t seem to care for company. As he begins back down the path, he hears a clattering noise and the sound of the woman cursing.

“Hey, mister!” She shouts. He looks over his shoulder and sees her standing with her hands on her hips and the wheelbarrow completely turned over, the dark soil spilling out onto the ground.

“I take that back.” She says with her head cocked to the side and a bashful smile.

He lightly chuckles at the sight and rides over, swiftly dismounting from his horse a few feet from the mild disaster.

“Could you help me scoop it back in?” She asks as she goes to the front of the wheelbarrow and picks up the dirt with yellow gloves.

“Sure,” he says, kneeling beside her. His hands are perpetually dirty as it is, so a little more filth couldn’t hurt. As he helps her pile the dirt back into the cart, he notices she smells earthy and sweet, reminiscent of the air before a storm.

“Alright,” she says, standing up and brushing her dirty gloves against her smock. “Would you mind wheelin’ it for me?”

He moves to grab the handles and pushes them down with ease so that the wheelbarrow can roll properly. 

“What’s all this dirt for anyways?” He asks the woman walking beside him.

“Just a project I’m working on. It’s back behind here, mister.” She points to the rear of the cottage, which quickly becomes dense with plant life the further they step. 

She crosses her arms over her chest as they enter the more secluded area.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, alright?” She says, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye.

He furrows his brows at the slight, but he can’t deny it makes sense she’s thinking that way. He looks the part of someone with foul intentions. The brim of his hat darkens his eyes, which would normally obscure them from anyone else. But, given that he's a head taller than the woman, she sees their darkness fine. He internally curses himself when he remembers he's wearing the one jacket stained with animal blood. It's still smeared dark brown across his shoulder. Of course, he looks like a damn menace. To top it all off, the rifle slung on his back casts a long shadow across her cheek like some twisted reminder of who he is, lest a single act of kindness threatens he forgets. 

He glances at her with a small smile that raises up on one side more than the other.

“Most of my ideas are funny, ma’am. But I ain’t gonna hurt you if that’s what you mean.”

Her shoulders drop from their tense position as she lets out a half-hearted laugh.

“I’ll take your word for it, mister,” she says, slightly more relaxed than before.

The grass starts to reach his knees, and all along the path are bushes and fruit-bearing shrubs with dangling under-ripe berries. Various species of flowers grow throughout the backyard in no organized manner, like they’d been living here long before anyone else. White bark trees stand tall amidst the entropic garden. Dark moss creeps up their trunks, and instead of leaves, canopies of draping blossoms erupt from the branches like something out of a storybook. They hang limply in the air, and when the wind tugs on them, they sway in synchronization while their blossoms flutter away in the breeze. It’s all so beautiful. He’s never seen an abundance of such natural beauty in all his life.

“Is this all yours?” He asks, turning to the lady with a near slack-jawed expression. 

“It is now,” she says, nodding her head. “My mama used to care for it, as did her mama before her. But uh- well, the flu took my mama a few years back, and as fate would have it, now my grandma’s flame is startin’ to flicker too. So it’s left to me to care for all this.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” he responds. Her voice sounds sad, and it reminds him somewhat of Ms. Adler, the widow staying with them for the time being.

“It’s okay,” she says, waving him off. “Sometimes in the darkness, there’s light, and this is definitely the light. I get to care for this thing, and in a way, it cares for me too. Gives me purpose, ya know?”

“S’Good to have somethin’ that makes you feel that way. Lord knows most people don’t.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. Oh! I’ll hold the door open for ya.” She leaves his side and jogs ahead of him.

“Door? What door?” Arthur looks around, but he sees nothing but trees and plants.

Suddenly, she reveals an entrance blocked by the tall grass, and he realizes that a small building made entirely of glass is right before him. It camouflaged against the greenery and the vines that drape across it. Now that the door is ajar, he sees inside plants of all kinds strewn about in terracotta pots and deep soil beds.

“What in the….” He begins to say but trails off, caught off guard by the unexpected reveal.

A sort of giddiness takes her when she sees his expression, and she waves her hand excitedly to usher him inside. 

“Come in! Come in!” 

He rolls the wheelbarrow inside the structure, and once again, he’s greeted by the humble beauty of the natural world. Leaves spill out of pots hanging from the rafters, creating curtains that brush against him as he passes through. She gently closes the door behind him, and the air starts to feel thicker, heavier, like he’s being swaddled in a damp blanket.

The pots each have their own label, but the writing is so messy that he can hardly make out the names. Of the ones he can read, he recognizes names such as Sparrow’s Egg, Clamshell, and Dragon’s Mouth. They’re exotic flowers that the corset man in Saint Denis once asked him to collect, but he never got around to doing it. If only he had enough time to frolic through fields and pluck orchids. He’d prefer that over the menial errands he’s been consumed by as of late.

“Back here!” The woman shouts.

He can’t see her behind the tall plant-filled shelves that take up the center of the room, so he pushes past the vines and turns the corner to see her standing next to an empty plant bed. She looks at him expectantly because his task is clearly to dump the soil. But his mind is elsewhere. Behind her is another plant bed. This one is full and brimming with cliff maids so densely packed that he can hardly see the soil they’re in. He’s never seen so many of these flowers in one place. Whenever he found one in the wild, it was usually nestled between two rocks and sprouted three or four blooms. They weren’t nearly as impressive as the ones infront of him.

“What is it?” She asks when he remains in his spot. She follows his gaze and gasps.

“Why, are you a gardener too, mister?” Her voice gets high with excitement.

“Who, me?” He laughs. “No, ma’am. I’m no gardener. I’d make for a pretty awful one seein’ as I’m not too good at keepin’ things alive.”

“Oh, forgive me. I just- you seemed interested in the perennials. Most people aren’t, considerin’ how unassuming they look. Pretty things but nothing outwardly special about ‘em.” She moves towards the tall blossoms and reaches out her hand to stroke the petals. 

“You know, they don’t like it here,” she continues. “They like the sun, which would be easy enough if they liked the heat that came with it, but no, it’s the cool shade of cliffs and rocks they like. These little blooms aren’t easy to care for, but if you can figure it out, they’ll live all through the years. That’s what perennial means, after all. Anyways, these guys are my favorite. I think it’s cause they give me such a hard time.”

She twiddled with the petals between her fingers as she rambled about the flowers. When she finally looks back at him, it’s like she has stars twinkling in her eyes. There’s a new liveliness about her, something that sparked when she was given room to air out her affinity for the pink blossoms. Arthur stands there, attempting to wrap his mind around the unlikely chance of finding someone who holds this particular flower as close to their heart as he does. He doesn't notice his aforementioned heart beating a little faster in his chest.

“I- I like ‘em too.” The words clumsily stumble from his mouth when he realizes she’s waiting for him to speak. He quickly gathers himself. 

“I mean, it was my ma that liked ‘em, but I guess she sorta rubbed off on me. They're pretty little things.”

“You’re kiddin’... what are the odds?” 

He can tell she’s thinking about something during the half-beat of silence that follows, but he can’t find any hint of what it is when he searches her face.

“I never got your name, mister,” she says abruptly.

“Arthur,” he says. “Just Arthur.”

“What, you ain’t got a last name, Just Arthur?” She laughs.

He considers telling her his real name but quickly dismisses it. On the off-chance she recognizes it from the bounty posters, it would mean that whatever was happening here would come to an unfortunate end. Of course, no harm would befall her, but he’d have to leave and go right back to his mess of a life. He’d rather stay here, in the sanctity of the greenhouse, with this person he strangely feels like he was meant to meet. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were on a full name basis, ma’am,” he says flippantly, but he can’t help the smile that forms when she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Well, Arthur, you have good taste,” she says playfully, but her gaze falls to the wheelbarrow he’s still holding, and her eyes widen. “Oh, that must be heavy. I talked so long, I forgot you still had that. Go ahead and pour it into that empty bed right there.” She gestures with a quick wave of her hand.

He looks down at the wheelbarrow he also forgot he was holding and does as she says, tilting the lip of it into the wooden frame and letting the soil spill out. 

She smiles at him and pats his shoulder before leading him out of the greenhouse. They step back outside, and the cool air is a welcome feeling. He props the wheelbarrow against the wall of the structure while she shuts the door behind her.

“Thank you again. I would’ve had a much harder time without you there,” she says.

He wipes his soiled hands on the front of his jeans and opens his mouth to speak, but when he looks at her, she’s already looking at him with a gaze sweet as honey. It makes his breath catch in his chest. Not many women have looked at him like that before, and hardly any were as easy on the eyes as her. A thread of sunlight catches her eyes and reveals faint traces of amber, like sap spilling from the source. Her long lashes flutter when she blinks, and they rest against the soft edge of her brow as she looks up at him. Her hair, woven into a braid, is loose, disheveled like she’d slept in it. Stray strands feather around her jaw and frame the angles of her face, not unlike ornate golden borders that surround paintings in a gallery.

He clears his throat upon realizing he’s been gawking at the poor woman like some boyish fool.

“Ah, it was nothin',” he says, directing his attention elsewhere as heat creeps up his cheeks. 

A dragonfly jitters down from above and lands on the stem of some thyme growing over a narrow creek. Water trickles over smooth stones into a basin where leaves float along the surface. Some of them sprout delicate white flowers that open up to the sky. A thought comes to him as he looks at them.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would it be alright if I draw a picture of this place?” He asks. He’s never had to ask anyone permission for this sort of thing before; it felt unnatural. But it certainly would’ve been more so if he’d asked her what he really wanted, which was to draw her alongside it.

She tilts her head and looks up at him curiously.

“How charming…” She says, then ponders it for a second. “I don’t mind as long as you let me see it after.”

He chuckles, “Alright, just don’t make fun of it.”

“I would never!” She says, feigning indignance. “My mama taught me manners, Arthur! That means if it’s bad, I’ll just make fun of it in my head. Now go do your thing. I also have some work to do.”

She waves him off with a smile and steps back inside the greenhouse, closing the door behind her. He lets out a sigh, the tight feeling in his chest relinquishing now that he’s finally alone. He walks over to a bench along the path and sits down, taking his journal from his satchel and flipping to a new blank page. Before him, tall pink flowers that smell of vanilla cast long, dark shadows over the smaller flowering shrubs surrounding them. If they weren’t so dainty looking, their height and the size of their leaves would give the impression they own the place. He gives them the most detail in his drawing. Then he starts to etch the dirt path, adding the indentation the wheel of the wheelbarrow had left behind and the imprint of the woman’s footprints next to his. Just as he finishes up the sketch, adding minute details in the leaves, he hears light footfall behind him.

On instinct, his hand moves to hover above his holster, but once he sees what’s behind him, he feels ridiculous for it.

“Hey,” she says quietly, a sheepish smile on her face. She holds nearly a dozen cliff maids in her hands, stems clipped and bound together with a thread of twine.

“I thought you might like to have these.”

He looks at her for a moment, unsure what to do or say. She’s giving him flowers. No one has ever given him flowers before. That was usually something a man might do if he were sweet on a lady, a gesture shared between lovers. But maybe for a woman who spends all day surrounded by them, it must not have the same romantic meaning he knows it does.

“Those are for me?” He asks. His hands hang loosely at his sides. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

She nods. “If you want.”

The talkative woman from earlier seems to have been replaced by someone different entirely, her sentences suddenly simple and sweet. He also struggles to find the right words.

“That’s too kind of you. Truly.” He reaches out to take them, and she places the bundle gingerly in his hands. 

His hold is gentle for fear he’d snap the stems if not careful. He knows he has to look a little silly. A man as rough around the edges as himself, with ammunition draped across his chest and pistols hanging at his hips, holding an overflowing bouquet of pink blossoms as a gift from a lady. If Dutch could see him now, he’d tell him he lost his edge. But if this is what it feels like to have gone soft, then he doesn't mind that much. The warmth in his chest is too comforting a feeling to let go of.

Her sudden gasp brings him out of his head.

“Is that the drawing?!” She points at the journal lying open on the bench. There’s no time to answer before she reaches over the seat to hold the leatherbound book in her hands.

“Wow… I- you captured it perfectly,” she says, her mouth slightly hanging in awe. “I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“You’re just minding your manners.”

She lightly thwacks him on the arm.

“You’d know if I was, I’m not a good liar. No, this is something special.”

He hardly knows a thing about this woman, and yet for some reason, her songs of praise feel so good that he wants to make ten more drawings. Hell, he’ll move as much dirt as she wants if it means she’ll look at him the way she is now each time. As her eyes flit between him and the sketch, he feels a fondness growing that he could’ve never anticipated when he first laid eyes on her. God, he almost feels like a boy again. It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in ages since he was last with Mary. Though, admittedly those feelings were guided by something less innocent than what he feels right now. What’s happening to him?

She clasps her hands together and takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Arthur, would you, um- would you like something to drink before you head out?” She asks. “I have just about anything.”

Without giving it much thought, he opens his mouth to answer, but a ringing noise sounds before the words can come out. It’s a clear jingling sound of a bell, and it’s coming from the house. 

“Oh, never mind. It seems like my grandmother needs me,” she sighs and hands back his journal. “Maybe another time?”

“Another time,” he agrees with a thin smile, deflating slightly at the abrupt goodbye.

She walks briskly to the back door and slips inside the house, the door swinging shut loudly behind her. He approaches his horse he’d left hitched to the woman’s front porch and goes to find a place to secure the flowers. As he’s slipping them through a notch on the saddle, the front door flies open.

She steps out, looking grateful he hasn’t left yet.

“Hey!” She calls out to him. She stands at the edge of the top step with one hand on her hip and the other shading her eyes from the sun.

“I’m sure you know already, but those can only last so long now that they’re cut. Perennials live all through the years but only when they’re planted,” she says, shifting her weight on the step.

Arthur’s mouth parts slightly as he searches for the words to respond.

“Oh. Alright.”

She sighs and brings her hand to her forehead in an exasperated motion.

“Okay- what I’m trying to say but failing at, is that when those flowers start to wilt, you come and find me.”

He tilts his head down, so the brim of his hat hides the smile forcing its way onto his lips. He hadn’t been sure if she was just being polite before, if every word was mere courtesy. But now, part of him felt that maybe some of it was more than that. He could at least tell for certain that she liked him, and that was enough.

“I’ll do that, miss. You take care of yourself, now.”

She then waves him goodbye before heading back inside.

The sun has risen high above his head by the time he returns to camp. Everything seems to be just as he left it a few days ago. Dutch is sitting outside his tent with a book in his hands, a finger pensively to his lips. Some men are sharpening their weapons or cleaning their guns and talking to one another while they work. Over by the campfire, Micah gestures wildly to Bill and Javier, who sit on the log by his feet. 

“If we leave at dusk, they should be sittin’ pretty at the station a while before leaving for town. So once things get movin’, I say Javier handles the lockbox, I’ll deal with Walton and his lady wife, and Bill, you hang back in case anyone else shows up.”

Javier looks up from polishing his pistol, “You don’t think Walton’s going to have any extra protection? He’s carrying a lot of goods, it’d be stupid for him not to.”

“Well, that’s what Bill’s for. Ain’t that right, Bill?”

Bill nods his head with a serious expression. “Damn right.”

As Arthur listens to this conversation, it’s as if he can see a dark thread spinning and tangling itself into a knot. A knot on top of a knot, on top of another. Soon enough, the thread will become one giant, twisted mess so tightly entwined it’ll be nearly impossible to unravel. The way things are headed, this seems like the only plausible ending for his people. But before that happens, the Pinkertons will likely find them again, and they’ll be packing their things again, only prolonging this mess of things a little bit longer, letting it become bigger than it ever needed to be. People will keep dying for nothing like they always have, and maybe he’ll be one of them, an unfortunate tally added to their death toll, necessary for the bigger picture.

The young woman had the right of it. Her words still echo in his head even now. 

Perennials live all through the years, but only when they’re planted. Only when they’re planted. 

The world won’t open its arms to drifters, even with a pistol pressed to its head. It’s past time they grow some roots, start living like people, and stop living like wild animals backed into a corner. Sure, there’s no glory in honest work but there sure as hell isn’t any in dying. Arthur had given this idea some thought before. He wouldn’t mind settling, living a simple life working odd jobs, or even finding work on a ranch somewhere. A peaceful life, a predictable one; it sounded just fine in his head.

He passes by Mary Beth and Tilly, scrubbing clothes on a washboard and laughing. Tilly looks up from her busy hands and waves at him.

“Hey, Arthur!”

“Hey there, Miss Jackson,” he says with a friendly nod.

He finds his tent and sets the bundle of flowers down on the cot before reaching into his satchel. 

“Are those flowers, Arthur Morgan?” 

He jumps as Tilly’s voice is suddenly right behind him.

“What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that, girl,” he says, turning to face her and Mary Beth standing just outside his tent.

“My goodness, they are!” Mary Beth says, her hand flying to her mouth. “Where did you find those?”

“A lady,” he responds, biting his cheek to force away a smile he doesn't want them to see. He doesn't want to be stuck rattling off every detail to the excitement-starved women. 

“Like, you purchased them from a lady?” Mary Beth leans forward and raises her eyebrows.

“They were… given to me,” he reluctantly admits as he places the stems inside a gin bottle on the table. He moves a few of them around so they look nice.

“Don’t tell us they’re from Mary, Arthur.” Tilly's voice goes low with disappointment, no longer seeming excited.

He grimaces at the thought. “No! No, they’re not from Mary. I met a woman earlier today, and she gave them to me, that’s all.”

The two women quickly glance at each other and share an enthusiastic look.

“Arthur Morgan, you’re in love!” Mary Beth nearly squeals.

He scoffs loudly, “I am not in love. I hardly know the woman!”

“Well, she’s surely in love then. What kind of person just gives someone flowers if they ain’t sweet on’em?” Tilly says matter-of-factly.

“Exactly! So when are you gonna see her again?” Mary Beth asks.

“I don’t know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He should’ve known this conversation would happen. He should’ve sucked up his pride and said he purchased the flowers for himself to have avoided it entirely. “She told me to come back when they start to die, so whenever that is, I guess.”

Mary Beth hums and looks past him at the flowers in their makeshift vase. 

“Hmm… well, they look a little limp if you ask me. Dare I say… dead even? What do ya think, Tilly?” 

Tilly nods her head dismally, but even she can’t hide her smile, “Yeah, look at ‘em. They’re all sad-lookin’. Seems like you’ll need to head over first thing in the morning. Just to be sure.”

He shakes his head and laughs, “Alright, out. Both of ya. I can’t take it no more.”

He takes both women by their shoulders and guides them away from his tent despite their protests.

“We just want you to be happy, Arthur! Is that so bad?” Tilly cries out.

“I know, I know. Thank you, ladies. But I’m happiest when people ain't meddlin’ in my private business. Now go on.”

“This ain’t the end of it, Arthur!” Mary Beth calls out as they both walk away. They start talking animatedly as they return to work and keep throwing glances that he can only shake his head at.

Later that night, Arthur sits alone at one of the tables, eating his stew and staring off into the water. Most everyone else is off doing their own things, evening chores, and such. He's in the middle of bringing the bowl to his lips to get the last bit of broth when Mary Beth sits down beside him.

She keeps her word, not letting him hear the end of her numerous questions. Some of them he entertains, like when she asks what the garden looked like, and if she can see his drawing to get a better idea. He can practically see the story forming behind her eyes.

"What's she look like?" She asks, leaning against her hand on the table. "I'm picturing a sort of Isabelle Standish type in my head."

"Ah, come on now. You can't ask those sorts of things."

"Oh, Arthur! Please! This is the most exciting thing I've heard in so long. Just give me something to work with!" She gives him a pleading look, to which he dramatically rolls his eyes at.

"Alright. Well, she gives them girls on cigarette cards a run for their money, I'll tell you that."

She giggles, and asks him, "So when are you gonna see her again?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know yet."

“You don’t want to keep her waiting too long,” she says, in warning.

“Nah, I think she’ll be plenty busy without me. I’ll give it a few days.”

“A few days? But what if tomorrow another man comes by and sweeps her off her feet? What if she gives him flowers and forgets all about you because you took too long?” Her voice gets higher as she spitfires these potential events. 

“Mary Beth. If I visit her tomorrow, I’ll look like an idiot.” His face scrunches up, cringing at the thought. "And if that's really what happens then I can't do nothin' about that."

“Well, if I were her, I’d find it romantic,” she says and pats his hand on the table.

“Yeah, well, you find a lotta odd things romantic,” he chuckles, thinking back on the strange things in her novellas that have made her kick her feet.

For a second, it looks like she can’t tell if she should be offended. But then she joins him in laughter, giggling at herself.

“You might be right about that!”

Following his talk with Mary Beth, he retreats to his tent and slumps in his cot. He closes his eyes and turns to face the side of the wagon, but sleep doesn't come easy. The cot creaks beneath him as he shifts, trying to get comfortable. He groans and rolls over, opening his eyes to stare into the darkness. Against the dark canvas of his tent, he can make out the silhouette of the cliff maids standing tall in their bottle. He traces the outline of their leaves and thinks back to the woman and her garden, the tranquility of her home, and the opposing restlessness of his heart whenever she looked at him. Before he’s ushered into unconsciousness, a strange thought enters his head that he can only explain away as the delirium of drowsiness. It was that in the distant future, he could see himself settling down, working odd jobs, or finding work on a ranch, sure. But maybe, the preposterous idea of taking care of flowers wasn't so bad neither.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #im so down bad for this man #sigh #that just means more fics for yall #also i made the flower text break! #ik its hard to tell but i did use a cliff maid as reference for the flower

[reveseke]

Why is there no Morgan x Hotch x Reader poly ships at all in general ??? This shit has consumed my mind for the past few months as an after thought and now I'm going to do it myself :( .

Soooo rogue and spontaneous headcanons time !! bc i can't keep track of new things and work on old things.

Feature ... Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner | Derek Morgan | nonbinary reader ( they them )

CW nothing much actually – absolutely nothing, I'm swearing here and there but nothing extreme. Bolded words highlight the headcanon's main topic and will continue to be of same topic untill it meets the new bolded words headcanon lol.

Disc ... Reader is nonbinary coded even if it's not outrightly said and all of my stories are towards masc intended readers.

DNI - Fudanashis/fujodashis, women & fem-aligned, profic/proship, anti - LGBTQ+ folk & exclusionists, anti-antis, Necro- Zoo- Pedophiles + (NO)Maps(and other terms), basic DNI criteria, kink/nude/nsfw/sh/vent/pro-ana/ed/18+ blogs

General headcanons – Grumpy meets the guard dog and sunshine.

Interpret it as you want, but we all know reader's the sunshine here when it comes to that sentence.

But i kinda see something akin to that that the grumpy is just Aaron and Derek is the guard dog who is as much talk as he can be bite.

Also imo Morgan and Hotch can mask and generally hide their relationship in BAU so fucking well behind general banter and professionalism nobody would suggest their together. It's surprisingly easy looking back at how the whole team in their hands is full of profilers and still they manage to share some touches and glances here and there away from the unsuspecting team. (Bc if I've understood correctly you can't date someone in your team and cannot be family to them bc emotional ties and rash/impulsive thinking when one is in trouble.)

Which leads to kind of fun situations with Hotch being asked if he found someone to be in his life after Hayley and he answers yes but never actually slips names out so everyone else but Morgan is kinda on the edge with the fact that they know he's dating, but don't know who. Bc i really think he would other wise be encouraged to meet more people if he didn't tell he was already in a relationship and it could became a nag.

But when it comes to off-duty work their guards just drop around each other knowing they don't have to hide it anymore. They'll just kinda be in comfort silence both knowing their safe and don't need much more on the topic. Bc i don't see either of them being really uh lovey-dovey if they are not in the mood and home.

Wkvdvdj thinking thinking ... if R was not part of the BAU but instead worked somewhere else and just spontaneously met the two or was part of a case by accident like as someone who may have seen something, as a suspect etc etc or just plainly seeing him work when they were on a date and both regonice the interest they share for the Reader.

Cuddle piles. Really it's going to be Morgan, then R and then Hotch depending on if your actually smaller than them. If your bigger then by all means it's going to be R, Morgan & Hotch. ( I'm thinking this perspective from laying in a literal pile on the sofa and trying their hardest to have the heaviest/biggest on bottom and lightest/smallest on top so nobody feels like they're going to die lmao) but otherwise it's alternating on who feels like being a side piece and who an in-between piece of the cuddle sandwich in bed.

Ooh also thinking of Jack, just when R comes and if he isn't part of the BAU he's got time to spent helping Hotch's SIL and lending a hand on taking care of Jack. Making sure he knows he's cared for and can trust them even if building that trust may take awhile.

Silently making fast friends with Aaron's SIL and Derek's family.

Also the reader in this is normal, there's no aus on it yet . But mark my fucking words I'm going to make a hybrid, spider maybe even BAU team aus off of this fucking ship at some point in time lmao.

#derek morgan x aaron hotchner #derek morgan x aaron hotchner x reader #derek morgan x nonbinary reader #derek morgan x masc reader #aaron hotchner x masc reader #aaron hotchner x nonbinary reader #criminal minds x masc reader #criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x nonbinary reader #🔮.headcanon #🔮.enby reader

[smartycvnt]

show off

pairing: liv morgan x reader

prompt: 4 "no panties?" + 26 "i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it."

warnings: smut, top reader, bottom liv

You didn't know what it was exactly, but you felt a little more daring tonight. Since the show tonight was where you lived, you had invited Liv to stay with you over the weekend. Neither of you were needed for live events until the next Smackdown taping, so you had quite a few days off. Liv would fly back home on Monday morning, but until then, she was staying with you. And you had many plans for the two of you, staring the moment you got home.

"You looked so good tonight that I could barely keep my hands off you," Liv said as she pulled you towards her. The two of you stumbled through your living room, lips locked in a heated kiss. Liv's hands were busy unbuttoning your flannel to expose some of your skin. Your hands moved up her thighs, dipping under the skirt of her dress, where you were met with a distinct lack of fabric. "What?"

"No panties?"

"Not after I saw you," Liv said with a cheeky wink. You were impressed, usually Liv was not that bold with you in public. She would kiss you and never shied away from PDA, but nothing that blatantly sexual. "And I knew where we were going after the show, why slow things down?"

"I really love you sometimes," you said as you dropped down onto your knees in front of Liv. She let you push the skirt of her dress up completely before pulling it over her own head. She had not only forgone panties you learned once her dress was off. Every inch of Liv's body was bared for you to admire, which you took several seconds to do.

"Don't leave me waiting," Liv said quietly. It was barely above a whisper. She was nervous, turning into herself to hide a little. You nudged her hands out of the way as you pulled her towards you by the hips. Liv took the step forward, legs spreading on instinct for you. You ducked your head down just enough to lick along her folds. Liv's knees buckled a little and her hands flew down to your head to steady herself.

"I never would leave you waiting," you told her. Liv nodded in agreement, not trusting her own voice to not shake. You let your hand replace where your mouth had been as you watched Liv enjoying herself. That wasn't quite enough for you though, you wanted to do something special tonight, something a little more than you usually did. "Do you think you can do something for me?"

"What do you want?" Liv asked. She was trying very hard to stay focused with no help from you. She wanted to curse you for asking her questions while continuing to pump your fingers in and out of her slowly.

"I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it," you told her. Liv's eyes widened a little, but you couldn't tell if it was from your request or your fingers hitting her g-spot. "Do you think we can do that tonight? I'd really love to show you off."

"Sh-show me off?" Liv asked. You pressed a couple of kisses to Liv's hips as your fingers started to slow down a little. You did want her in a slightly clearer mind if the two of you were going to do this. "Okay, take me there."

You removed your fingers from Liv and carried her over to the window. She leaned against the glass as you took your position behind her. You stood behind her and leaned over her body as your fingers slid back inside of her. Liv let out a soft cry of pleasure as you found a stronger and steadier rhythm than before. Liv could see herself getting fucked in the reflection of the window. Nobody could see the two of you, not really, but the implication that somebody could was turning Liv on more than she cared to admit.

"You're even wetter than before," you said as you pulled your fingers out of Liv. She was about to complain when you dropped down behind her and finished her off with your mouth. You sat with your back against the window, catching Liv safely when her legs finally gave out. Liv was out of it for a few moments, but when she regained her composure, she was met with the sight of you smiling at her, lips still glistening with her cum.

"Show off," Liv mumbled. You smirked, no desire to argue against the accusation.

#wwe #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #liv morgan imagines #liv morgan imagine #liv morgan x reader #liv morgan

[supercriminalbean]

Fight Club. Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Summary: The reader gets closer to exposing the unsubs that ruined his life, but does his team find out?

Warning: Dark fic. Torture, cutting, blood, fighting, death, abuse, kidnapping, swearing, drugs, unsub violence, bad eatting habits, bad self care, scars, angst. This whole fic is just dark and strange the ask it self is amazing and may help you know if this is something you can handle. (Any other warnings let me know xx)

Words: 6.7k

A/N: Check out part one here!!I suggest reading part one to understand this. Next part post next week also tagging thoes I think interested thanking you for the love 💜🖤💜🖤

Part one. Part three. Part four.

Tagging thoes that seem interesed or asked: @xweirdo101x @alecmores @yn-addams @winter-world @xdark-acadamiax @rexspersonalhell

If you wish to untagged let me know xx if you wish to be tagged let know 💜💜

PART TWO

You're sharing a room with Hotch, the hotel doesn’t have enough room so somehow you're sharing with the boss. While he’s having a shower, you quickly go through your files, finding the one on Ryan. Reading through it as you hide the other files once more, wishing you could also hide the guilty feelings with all the information you aren’t sharing with your team. 

“I thought you left all the files behind” Aaron sighs as he looks at you sitting up on the bed, leaning against the wall. You look up sheepishly at him, so far in your own mind you never heard the bathroom door open. 

“I did, this is Ryans” You admit, doing your best to keep your eyes off the water sliding down his neck as he dries his hair, a small knowing smirk sliding onto his lips. 

“Right of course you have that” Aaron chuckles softly before sitting down on his own bed.

“And you're not surprised?” Raising an eyebrow up at him, a smirk of your own playing on your lips. 

“It's you, I’ve learnt to not be surprised with this case” He sends you a cheeky smile before holding his hand out. “Let me read through it while you go shower”

“Is that an order bossman?” Sending him a teasing smile as you stand up, passing over the file.

“It's normally the only way you listen to me” He laughs softly, one you haven’t heard in a long time. Smiling lightly as you pass him the file before grabbing your towel and heading into the bathroom.

~~~

You manage to fall asleep for a few hours, before waking up from another nightmare. Shooting forward in bed, breathing quickly and shallow as you look around the room, reminding yourself where you are. Your eyes land on Aaron and notice just how peaceful he looks as he sleeps. Taking some deep breaths to calm yourself down you listen to his soft snores, smiling lightly at the comforting sounds. After you have calmed down you check the time, it's now four am. You have three hours before the team has to be at the precinct and two hours before Aaron wakes up. Quietly you get up, grabbing your bag as you head into the bathroom to change and pack a small bag you will need for the day before sneaking out of the room. 

Seven o’clock rolls around quickly and Hotch is waiting for the team to arrive. He was expecting you to be here when he first woke up and noticed your bed empty but you weren’t. He has an uneasy feeling in his gut but he’s hoping he’s wrong, maybe you went for a run and will be walking in with the team any minute. 

“Morning Hotch” JJ is the first to walk into the room, holding two cups of coffee, handing him one just as the rest of the team minus you walks in.

“Thanks JJ” He forces a small smile before looking through his team searching for you. “(Y/n) Isn’t with you” He sighs as he sets his cup down, the team's faces fall.

“No we thought he was with you already” Morgan responds, watching Hotch with concern, glancing at Reid as he walks past them and towards the map on the board.

“I woke up and he was gone already, I was hoping he was here but no one has seen him” Hotch informs them, keeping the disappointment and anger from his voice. He should have seen this coming.

“There's a boxing gym around the corner” Reid speaks up and just like that the tension in the room disappears. 

“Of course there is,” Rossi smirks, shaking his head, grabbing the car keys from the table.

“Morgan go get him” Hotch orders, making Morgan tenses up.

“Do you think that's a good idea?” Morgan questions, not entirely looking forward to getting a black eye. 

“Go, and make up with him” Hotch huffs before turning away from him, not catching Emily's comment about having ice on stand-by.

~~~

You lost track of time as you let your anger out on the boxing bag, your music blurring through your headphones. You had done a work out before moving onto the bag and now you don’t want to stop, finding comfort in letting yourself go. While punching away on the bag it suddenly stops moving, arms wrapping around it pulling it away from you. Glancing up at the person behind you, you slide your headphones off, taking some deep breath to try and catch your breathing. 

“Morgan, hey”

“How long have you been here?” Morgan stares at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Um I went for a run before getting here so around five ish” Shrugging your shoulders as you take the gloves off, your fingers all red and aching. 

“Jesus kid, It's seven am, you have been in here since five” Morgan sighs softly looking up at you with sympathy. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself”

“I’m not doing anything” You deny as you start wiping down the equipment and start putting it away.

“Bullshit, you might think your a mystery but your not” 

“Oh then what am I, Morgan?” You stare up at him as you come to a stop. 

“You're in pain, you clearly haven’t dealt with the trauma you have so you hide it, hoping it will go away, news flash kid it won’t” Morgan speaks firmly, but looking at you with kindness something that somehow makes you uncomfortable. You quickly look away from him as his words sink in, having to fix your mask that had slipped away, replacing it with a joking smile.

“Are you trying to get me to punch you again Derek?” Derek, you barely call him that, that's how he knows his words touched you.

“No, that hurt” He laughs deeply, smiling widely at you.

“Oh that was just a warning shot, if I really wanted to hurt you, you would have been on the ground” You laugh along with him, as you head towards the changing room as he goes to wait for you.

“Wait kid” He calls for you, waiting until you turn to him to continue. “You can keep pushing us away, but we aren’t going anyway”

Your smile falters at his words, you don’t believe him. Everyone always leaves you once it becomes too much. 

‘Thanks Morgan” You fake a smile as you walk to the changing room leaving behind a worried Derek.

~~~

Once you are freshly showered and dressed you head out, climbing into the SUV where Morgan is waiting for you. You hold your jacket in your lap, normally you would be wearing it already, but Morgan has already seen your arms before so you find trying to hide them this morning useless. 

“So how mad is Hotch that I’m late?” Flicking a small smile at Morgan as he starts driving. 

“I think he’s just relieved that you didn’t take off to investigate something by yourself,” Morgan chuckles, glancing at you, his eyes flickering down to your arms. Normally you're always wearing a jacket or blazer or just about to cover up your arms, even in summertime. He has seen your bare arms maybe four times over the past three years, and he doesn’t blame you for covering up he just wishes you didn’t feel like you had to when it comes to the team. Your arms are covered in scars, deep ones that look like they never truly healed properly, some scars are in shapes of letters and patterns. Derek may never know what you went through or who did it to you, but one day he hopes you talk to someone about it because whatever you went through you clearly haven’t healed from it. His eyes flicker down to your right upper arm where a tattoo sits. 

“You got inked?” Derek smiles vulgarly as he looks back to the road.

“Oh yeah I got it a few months ago” Shrugging as you remember just how difficult the appointment was, the tattoo artist was kind and lovely giving you plenty of breaks when her touching got to be too much. 

“What does it say?” Derek smiles a bit more as he pulls up outside the precinct, looking back at your tombstone tattoo.

“My last words: Well that didn’t work” Chuckling softly as you smirk at Derek, an amused look over his face.

“You think that's what your last words will be?”

“Oh definitely” 

~~~

The day goes by with Rossi, JJ and Emily taking the jet to Ohio, where Ryan last was and according to Garcia about four other victims that she has identified in the videos. Morgan, Hotch and Garica work together to go through the videos and look for anything in the background to help narrow down where the unsubs could be. Meanwhile you and Reid work on the geographic profile, which is going seemingly well. 

“This abandoned shed is in their comfort zone Reid” You argue once more.

“They don’t have a comfort zone yet (Y/l)” Reid groans, arguing with you again. “They keep travelling the country, they have a comfort zone in each state”

“Fine you can think this, but right here” You stab your finger aggressively against the map. “This is in one of their comfort zones we need to check it out”

“It's too small to house anything!” Reid raises his voice, which you respond with a deadly glare.

“No shit dumbass, but I don’t think they are above ground” Scoffing at him as you see the wheels in his mind spinning. 

“That might make sense”

“Of course it makes sense” You take a sharp deep breath. “Look at the videos we have, there is only artificial lighting, everything looks dark and they are clearly in a swimming pool” Your voice gets louder and a dangerous edge comes to it. Reid’s eyebrows narrow as he stares at you.

“Swimming pools can be underground, so much space and no one would hear a thing no would ever know someone or anyone is down there” You keep arguing, a dark look emerging in your eyes once more. 

“So you think that could be the entrance way?” 

“Yes!” You almost scream at him. You know it's underground, you remember sprinting up those stairs and entering a tiny little shed before leaving it forever.

“We should tell Hotch” Reid nods at you before walking out. 

~~~

You shouldn’t be doing this, you really shouldn’t be. But you don’t care because as soon as Reid is out of the room you grab the car keys and walk towards the SUV, climbing inside. Your mind is spinning as you place your hands on the steering wheel, the car remains shut off. You stare at the road ahead of you, your mind begging you to go and find the place by yourself, but you can’t betray your team like that. A sharp knock on the window makes you jump before glaring at the man on the other side. Soon the door opens and Hotch is standing on the other side looking furious. 

“I didn’t technically leave so I shouldn’t be in trouble” You reason staring back at him. 

“Were you going to?” It was an honest question, because Aaron couldn’t tell what was going through your mind.

“Unsure” Sighing, leaning your head back, resting it on the headrest.

“Come back inside, please” Aaron eyes scan over you, noticing the furstate burning inside of you. 

“I can’t, I need a break” Groaning as you look at him, your eyes pleading for some time. Without another word Hotch climbs into the car with you.

“Then drive” He gives you a vague smile, one that you return before turning the car on and driving off.

You drive in silence for a little while, enjoying the quietness. You drive for a while, heading out of town.

“So Reid showed us what you found and told us what you think but why don’t you tell me why you think they are underground?” His voice is kind as he speaks, wanting to hear your ideas.

“Well there is so much more space, and you can go undetected, no one would hear them, you could scream so loud and no one would hear you. Plus there are so many abandoned underground swimming pools and halls, somebody thought they would take off but it became an issue once some started collapsing so they closed them down” Your eyes stay focused on the road and not on the memories playing in your mind. How you first discover you were trapped underground, you and Ryan were playing around and somehow got into a locked door and found a dodgy staircase that led somewhere. It was perfect for the escape plan.

“So do you have a list?” Hotch notices the far away look you have on, the way your hands tighten on the wheel as you drive. 

“Of course I do” Smirking at him, as you open your mouth to inform him of some information you stumbled onto last month. 

“Fuck Aaron” You scream loudly slamming the breaks on but your to late. 

~~~

Morgan is the first out of the car, showing the officer in charge his badge before sprinting over to Hotch who is sitting on the back of the ambulance. Reid lets him go ahead, deciding to investigate the car crash instead. 

“Hotch what the hell happened?” Morgan asks, his eyes widening at the stitches across his boss's forehead. 

“We were ambushed, I was knocked unconscious, and when I came to (Y/n) was gone” Hotch groans, half in pain and half annoyed at himself.

“So they know we are onto them” Morgan huffs, holding his hand out to stop Hotch who is getting to his feet. “Hotch, sit back down” 

“I can’t we need to go and find him” Hotch ignores the dizziness he feels as he stumbles to his feet. He only cares about finding you. Morgan places a firm hand on Aaron's shoulder and pushes him back down. 

“No, you need to go to hospital and get properly checked out, me and Reid are on this and the others are already on their way back” Morgan informs him, watching Aaron closely. He can tell Aaron is thinking deeply trying to put things together.

“Can you tell me about the car?” Morgan asks, hoping a small task can help focus his mind again.

“It was silver, I saw it for a quick second but then It hit straight into us” Hotch groans rubbing his hand, just wishing the throbbing would stop. 

“Okay that's something, you go to the hospital and I will ring if we find something” Morgan states his eyes narrowing when Hotch goes to argue. “We have a narrow time frame Hotch, us worrying about you isn’t going to help us find him, don’t argue with me” Morgan snaps, taking some breaths doing his best to keep in control.

“Fine,” Hotch sighs, finally giving in. “But the second you know something”

“I will call, now go” Morgan demands, stepping back from the ambulance as Hotch climbs in and the doors shut.

~~~

Hours seem to drag by, Morgan and Reid are at the precinct on the phone with Garcia all three of them bouncing ideas between them, waiting for the rest of the team to get back.

“But I don’t get why they would leave Hotch behind?” Garcia ask, sighing deeply as she leans against her desk, trying not to fall into the pit of fear of anxiety surrounding her.

“He wasn’t their main target, (Y/n) has been investigating them for months” Reid replies, looking over his map.

“Or longer” Derek supplies, staring daggers at the wall. His anger coming to light, he’s scared of what is happening to you but he knows he can’t allow himself to worry so he turns it into anger once more. 

“You think he lied about when he started looking into this?” Garcia's eyes widened as she asks. 

“He knew Ryan may have been there, whos to say he hasn’t been looking into this for a long time” Derek sighs, his head popping up as the door opens, JJ and Emily walking in.

“Please tell me we have a lead?” JJ requires as she sits down next to Reid, passing the boys some coffee.

“Nothing yet” Reid smiles gratefully at her as he takes his cup.

“Where's mum and dad?” Morgan asks, looking at Emily.

“Rossi took Hotch back to the hotel to change, they should be back soon” Emily sips her own coffee before grabbing the crime scene photos of the car crash and starts looking through them.

“Where were they going?” Emily looks up at them, her heart racing. She can only guess what is happening to (Y/n) right now, and that is something she doesn’t wish to picture. 

“No idea, (Y/L) said he needed a break so Hotch went with him” Derek supplies.

“I thought he could have been heading to this abandoned shed he thought could have been important but he was going in the wrong direction” Reid answer, pointing at the map as he does so.

“So what is in the direction they were heading in?” JJ asks, looking over the map.

“As far as I can tell, nothing” Reid groans, sipping on his coffee. 

“Baby girl have you found anything on where they could be hiding yet?” Derek turns his attention to the lady on the phone.

“Not yet, but I'm searching” She answers while analysing the photos and videos on her screens.

“Alright while keep us updated Garcia” Emily holds back a groan as speaks, dread filling inside her as the door swings wide open and Hotch storms inside. 

~~~

“We might have something” Rossi announces as he follows Hotch inside. Both of them carrying a big stack of files each, some looking old and tatted. Setting them down in front of the team, Aaron keeps one firmly in his grasp.

“We found these in (Y/n) to-go bag, they go back years even before they joined the BAU” Hotch informs them, his jaw clenching shut. 

“Holy shit” Emily eyes widen as she opens one of them, the file has three different people inside them, piled with information of their last whereabouts, age, and home life.

“There's about 20 of them here” JJ gulps, flicking through it. “Why didn’t they tell us sooner”

“This is…alot” Morgan glanced up at the rage filled eyes of his boss.

“Garcia, go into (Y/L) personal file” Hotch stares at the phone, his voice growing cold as he goes to confirm his suspicions.

“Um yes sir” Garcia's voice grows softer as she types away, gaining access. “What am I looking for?”

“He has a sealed file, unseal it” Hotch orders, crossing his arms.

“But it's a sealed file” Her voice is barely audible as she stares at it, feeling frozen.

“Garcia!” Hotch snaps at her, his jaw clenching even tighter.

“Okay” Tears spring to her eyes as she hacks away, feeling guilty as she invades your privacy. The room doubles in tension as it grows silent, the only sound is Penelope tapping away. 

“Im in.. holy shit” Garcia breaks the silence, her hands falling away from the keyboard as her screen fills with more icky knowledge. 

“Penelope, what is it?” JJ asks, leaning forward, her heart skipping beats.

“I'm sending you the file now.. But it's not good” Tears slides down her cheeks as she sends them the files, scrolling past the gruesome photos of you.

Morgan grabs the laptop, screening the file on the tv for everyone to see. The team's hearts all drop as the photos of you fill the screen.

“Thats..thats (Y/n)?” Emily stares in terror at the photo of you in a hospital gown, posing for photos. You look to be about twenty in that photo, you seem to be all bones and muscles, except you are covered in cuts and bruises. There's almost not one part of your skin that's not covered in an old scar or a new one. The look of horror and numbness is pressed into your eyes, you're covered in dirt and grime, dried blood all over you. 

‘A young unname man was found on the edge of riverstone, he seems to be sensitive to light and touch. He has trouble understanding a lot of words and doesn’t seem to know how to read or write. He doesn’t understand where he is or what alot of basic things are. He is skittish and afraid, keeps yelling for someone called Victor and Ryan. The FBI has been contacted and an Agent Jason Gideon from the behavioural analysis unit is on his way. This young man has yet to tell us his name or his age.’

The File is full of more information, but nothing regarding what happened to (Y/n) or how they were found. 

“Gideon was on the case” Morgan states, swallowing thickly as what happened to you finally starts setting in.

“I'll be back” Dave declares before pulling out his phone as he leaves the room.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Garcia's broken voice breaks through the phone, bringing everyone back to the room.

“He didn’t want us to know” Reid speaks slowly, quietly as he processes it.

“We could have helped… we are family” JJ has to take a deep breath, tears threatening to fall.

“He's never had a family before” Emily rubs her hand softly over JJ's shoulder, doing her best to keep herself together as well.

“We need to go through all his files and notes, we need to know everything he knows” Hotch finally speaks up, he knows he should comfort his team but he can’t find it in himself to do that. He knew you had it rough, but he just wishes you could have told him, you came to him for help and that's all he has ever wanted to do. No matter how bad it is.

“Do you..” Garcia has to stop herself, taking a deep breath before trying again. “He knew they video them while fighting, do you think his videos are still up?” Her question brings the team to silence again, no one wants to find them yet let alone watch and analyse them. 

~~~

“Guys” Rossi calls their attention as he walks back in, phone in hand. He settles down between Morganand Emily putting the phone on speaker before setting it down.

“Jason, are you still there?” Dave asks, bringing the team's attention quickly to the phone.

“Still here, It's been a while I wish this was under better circumstances” Gideons voice floats through the phone, bringing the team to have mixed emotions at this moment.

“So do we, but you were on (Y/n) case?” Hotch speaks up, finally taking a seat. 

“I was, I'm surprised but happy to hear he did indeed make it to become an agent. When I first met him, he was different, he was terrified of everything. He used violence as a normal way of life, someone touched him, even if it was briefly he was ready to attack. He didn’t understand what a hospital was, and he differently preferred women over men” Gideon informs them quickly, remembering how only female nurses were allowed to touch him, making him assume it was a male unsub. 

“He still hates touch” JJ sighs, just imagining how scared you must have been.

“Do you know how long he was there?” Derek taps away at the table as he asks, he doesn’t want to know but he must ask.

“He never said, but I came to the conclusion he was really young, maybe around 6, he never knew his proper age we came up with around age 20” Gideon rubs his forehead as he speaks, this is a case he could never really get over. “I worked with him for years, even after his case closed, he didn’t have anyone so we bonded. We even decided when his birth date would be, because he couldn’t even remember it.”

“He was there for about 14 years?” Dave's heart drops, god it could be longer and no one on this team knew. 

“Yes around about” Gideon conforms.

“Did he ever tell you what happened to him?” Hotch asks, checking his watch. It's been 7 hours since they took you back.

“Nothing with details, he told me they used to train so he could become strong enough to fight. He told me no one ever lasts long, he is the one that lasted the longest, him and his friend Ryan.”

“Ryan, how did they meet?” Emily's eyes shoot open. Gideon goes quiet for a little bit, before finally answering.

“Something you should know first, the unsubs running the place would give them other names and change them a lot. (Y/n) told me his old name was Juptier, and Ryan's name was Victor. (Y/n) was told to go and recruit some boys one day, someone dropped him off at a boxing gym for boys his age, he thinks he was about ten at the time. He went for a few months and got close to a boy named Ryan they became friends” Gideon stops for a breather before continuing. “A few years later Ryan went missing and It must have been the same unsubs, but here's the thing it wasn’t the first time (Y/n) was ordered to do this, but he told me this was the only time he felt guilty about it when he meet Ryan” 

The room falls silent as the team takes this information on board, the unsubs are using the boys to recruit more boys, thats fucked.

“How did he escape?” Reid asks, his throat tightening up at what (Y/n) has been through.

“Him and Ryan somehow managed to keep each other sane enough at points and planned an escape plan. They tried to get out together but Ryan got caught and (Y/n) was too scared to go back for him. (Y/n) refused to tell me much more from that.”

“We think they could be being held underground, did (Y/l) mention anything like that to you?” Hotch asks, his cheating tightening up at the thought of you being hurt.

“Nothing like that, sorry Hotch” Gideon sighs, he's glad the young boy he once knew made something of his life and joined his old team.

“Okay well thanks Jason” Dave sighs, looking around at the scared, empty, afraid looks on his team's face.

“If there's anything else I can do, let me know” Soon the line goes dead and no one speaks, soaking in the information.

~~~

“Alright, I need half of us to go back to the hotel and get some rest” Hotch declares, regaining everyone's attention. “Dave, Reid and Prentiss I want you three to go get some sleep and in the morning, Reid I want you to get a map of this town from ten to twenty years ago, see what has changed. Dave, Emily you two will go to the crash site as soon as the sun comes up” Hotch orders, small agreements and nods come from the agents as they get up and make their way out. 

“Garcia” Hotch calls out, softening his voice as he turns to the phone.

“Yes boss?” She replies, stretching her fingers ready to keep searching. 

“Go home, get some rest”

“What no, I’ll be too far away from my computers if you need me” She argues back immediately.

“You need rest, this is not a debate” Hotch holds back a huff, he knows how she goes when someone she loves is in trouble.

“But Hotch,” Garcia grumbles, going to argue.

“There's a blanket and pillow under my desk, get some sleep in my office baby girl” Morgan pipes up, knowing that's the best arrangement that can be made with his stubborn girl.

“Fine, but the second—”

“The second we need you we will ring now go to sleep” JJ cuts her off, smiling softly at the phone.

“Fine goodnight, I love you all” Penelope's stubborn voice fills the phone before she hangs up. 

“What’s the plan boss?” Morgan sips his coffee turning to Aaron.

“JJ, can you go through these files, make a list of all these names, put them in order of when they were taken and see if any of them knew each other, run them through the missing person reports” Hotch orders, turning to her. 

“Got it” She nods as she pulls out her laptop grabbing a file to start on.

“Morgan” Hotch takes a deep breath, hating what they have to do next.

“We are going to find his videos” Morgan's eyes shut briefly, mentally preparing himself.

“Yeah” Hotch agrees, grabbing the laptop, clicking onto the previous link.

~~~

Groaning softly in pain as you pull yourself into a sitting position, trying to move your hands behind your back. Your eyes flutter open when you realise they are immobile, hiss quietly as a bright light shines down at you altering you to your surroundings. You seem to be tied to a chair, a bright light and a camera facing you. You do your best to look around, but you don’t have to, you know where you are. You’re back where it all began, back in the swimming pool of death. The smell of dried old dirty blood mixed with fresh bleach fills your nose making your skin crawl, you promised yourself you would never turn back into that thing you used to be. You keep searching around the room looking for a way out, you know deep down it's useless, there's no escape. A rough ‘Ahem’ echoes through the room, redirectioning your eyes, glancing over to the only other light source in the room, right by the door. She even so slowly makes her way out of the darkness making her presence known. Beside her stood the man of your nightmares, the one you refuse to think of even with this investigation. 

“You fuckers” You hiss violently at them, they make it to the edge of the pool before stopping, looking down at you with sickening grins. 

“Oh Jupiter, you thought you could leave us?” Her sickening sweet voice fills your ears once more. Your stomach flips making you want to hurl as he chuckles beside her.

“I’m not letting you get away with this” Glaring up at them as you do your best to calm the rage stirring awake inside you. 

 “Oh darling boy, you think we would ever let you get us?” His laugh booms around the room. “You never had us, we gave you enough over the years to come back to us, so you could find your way home” His fake caring smile yanks at your heart, it's all you wanted to see as a kid. All you wanted was his approval, wanted him to be proud of your achievements and be proud to have you around. You now know it's wrong, but what's even worse is, you still crave his approval.

“This isn’t the end” You argue, fighting in your restraints. 

“Oh but it is, Jupiter” She can’t help but giggle at you, your body on fire when she calls you that again. “We won, you are never getting out of here alive”

“My team—” Glaring up at her, before he regains your attention.

“Your team already left, they don’t want anything to do with you” He looks at you pointedly, a knowing smirk in his eyes.

“Bullshit!” You scream at him. No, he has to be lying to you, they wouldn’t leave you. Would they?

“Oh honey, they did and we have proof” She smirks joyfully at you, before he jumps down into the pool with you. 

“Careful old man, might break a knee” You scoff up at him, which results in a strong slap across the face. A chuckle slips out from you, glaring up at him.  “Oh now the fun begins” 

“You sadistic bastard”

“Oh you have no idea” 

~~~

The morning comes by slowly, when Dave walks into the precinct he notices JJ curl up in a chair fast asleep and Morgan and Hotch both asleep on the couch. Sigh softly as he looks around, the team was working themself to the bone once more just trying to find any lead. Everyone knew deep down that this case wasn’t going to have a happy ending, all they can hope for is that they get you out alive. Before even if you live, you might not stay around on the team, you have already broken so many FBI rules and laws it may be impossible for you to continue working with them. But Dave also can’t help notice the effort this case is taking more of a toll on Aaron than anyone else, and he can’t help but wonder why. This isn’t the first time he has assumed there is something between them, and the last time he asked Aaron his head was nearly taken off with his defensiveness. Dave let it be, because the following week and those two didn’t speak a word to each other and a coldness loomed between them. Dave knows with you missing he would have to keep a close eye on Aaron and make sure he doesn’t go overboard. Moving slowly and quietly around the room, Rossi starts to clean up, moving all their empty glasses to the sink and putting all the files back into piles getting prepared to wake them up. But before he can, the door swings open and the three sleeping agents all shoot awake.

“Well good morning” Emily smirks at them all before making her way to JJ, handing her a coffee.

“Oh caffeine, I love you” JJ groans, taking a long sip closing her eyes. 

“Good sleep?” Reid smirks playfully at Morgan before handing him and Hotch some coffee.

“Great” Morgan grumbles before taking a sip. Hotch takes his with a small thanks before moving and sitting at the table, where Rossi joins him, getting ready to ask him something.

“What Dave?” Aaron huffs rubbing his forehead.

“You know you need—” Before Dave could continue, Hotch's phone rings.

“Its Garcia” Hotch announces before putting it on speaker. “Yeah Garcia, your on speaker”

“Sir” Her voice is full of dread, grabbing everyone's attention. 

“Garcia what is it?” His voice is sharp as he prepares for the worse.

“They just went live, I sent you the link just prepare yourself” Her voice trails off becoming wobbly. 

It's JJ that grabs the laptop, clicking on the link and casting it on the tv quickly. Everyone's face drops as they see the blood dripping from your face and the next words haunt them forever.

“So what they left me, I’m someone people leave. If my team doesn’t want to help me then they can go rot in hell” The words drip from you like venom, your heart breaking as the realisation of just how alone you truly are sinks in.

~~~

“Let's turn this into a show huh?” He kneels down behind you, his breath lingering on your neck.

“Go screw yourself” You sneer at him trying to lean out of his reach, you're too late. He wraps his hand around your neck, forcing you to stay still, aiming your face towards the camera. Next second you know the light turns red and you know its recording, your blood runs cold. You promised yourself this would never happen again, another promise you get to break.

“Say hi to the viewers darling boy” His breath lingers on your ear, before licking a stripe up your neck making you squirm and fight against him.

“Don’t!” You snap at him, fighting against the hand wrapped around your neck, making yourself choke.

“Don’t, oh don’t hurt me, oh please I’ll be good” He pouts mocking you, a cruel chuckle rumbles in his chest. He missed the way you would define him, he has been looking forward to breaking you again. “Oh I have so many plans for you” 

“Oh honey, here” She calls out to her partner, grabbing both of your attentions. She climbs into the pool, placing a small table and laptop down, the laptop has a chatroom up all ready. 

“Thank you love, leave it there and go check on the other boys and make sure Robin is ready” He licks his lips as he reads the chat messages, ideas on what he should do to you.

“You don’t want Victor?” Her charming smile makes your heart drop, Ryan you can’t fight Ryan, hell you can’t fight anyone!

“Not yet, not until we have broken him” He finally lets go of your neck, making his way to the other side of the pool grabbing something from the edge as she leaves.

“He’s still here?” Your voice breaks as you look at him, your body shaking already.

“Yes your little boyfriend is still here” His evil smirk makes you fall silent. “Don’t worry he got punished properly for helping you escape” 

“Don’t fuck touch him!” You try to stay quiet you know you should, he's trying to get under your skin and he’s winning.

“Too late little boy” He sighs before walking back over to you, kneeling down behind you, his hand in your hair yanking it backwards, sliding a knife underneath your chin. 

~~~

“Now how about we be polite and say hello to our viewers, and let's see if any of our older viewers remember you” His gruff voice brings you terror but you have had your whole life at being able to practise hiding it.

“Sup fuckers” Smirking at the camera, licking your lip teasingly. He lets go of your hair for a moment, before slapping you hard across the face, your head moves quickly slicing your neck lightly on the knife. A small amount of blood is brought to the surface, you bite your tongue to stay quite glaring at the camera with a powerful smirk. He moves the knife up to just below our eye, pressing just enough to dent the skin.

“Be polite, I taught you manners you ungrateful cunt” He growls loudly in your ear, before pulling his lips away from your body. “Tell them your name”

You don’t respond straight away, thinking over your answer. “(Y/n)” You stare daggers at the camera, bracing yourself for the pain. It comes quick, he slices the knife down your cheek, and it takes everything in you to only let out a deep breath. 

“Do not lie” His voice is full of anger, his pulse racing as he cuts into your skin again. “Tell them your name”

“(Y/n)” You push the name out through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes tightly to shut out the pain.

“Try again” He screams at you, slapping you painfully hard over the cts making you whimper.

“No” You argue, but he’s had enough. Moving the knife up to your ear, cutting it into your skin moving it slowly downwards towards your eye.

“Again!”

“(Y/n)! My name is (Y/N) (Y/L)” You scream at him, a scream full of pain, your eyes shooing open landing on the camera, begging for help. 

“Fucking barstard” He grumbles, dropping the knife. “You know I was trying to stop this, you might not understand but I love you, you are my kid, I wouldn’t hurt you like this but enough is enough” He snaps at you, pulling out some papers from his pocket. “You don’t believe me that your team would leave you but here's the proof this was taken last night, just hours after we took you back” His voice softens at the end as he shows you the photographs. Rossi, Morgan and Hotch board the jet, your heart breaks as you see it, Hotch has stitches on his head due to the crash you guess. You can feel your world around your crumble, you thought they cared about you, what a bunch of lies. How many times had Aaron held you in his arms telling you the team was grateful you were there, or the amount of times Penelope and Reid would drag you to movie nights. What about Morgan and Rossi just the other day when they both told you they would always be there for you. What fucking liars they are. You take a few deep breaths before glaring up at him, fixing your mask. 

“So what they left me, I’m someone people leave. If my team doesn’t want to help me then they can go rot in hell” The words drip from you like venom, your heart breaking as the realisation of just how alone you truly are sinks in.

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