#⚶Open

[nocentis]

Honeysuckle

⚶ ┆ Between his teeth and beneath his nails, an airy fruit light as love is bitten down to the rind. Even with his mouth full of pulp he finds himself desperate for her taste.

A sigh echoed and swallowed, kept locked in his chest like a secret. He held his breath until it burned; savored every hitch and every hum of her sacred song. Each curse spoken like a prayer, like praise; wept like gratitude wrenched raw from the soul — raked clean and spit out like the pit of a cherry. When he's forced to breathe, she is the hallowed riptide, and he would be blessed to drown in her lush.

Ripe as a peach at the crown of her cheeks; soft red flush so sticky sweet. Another of her colors comes to life in his mind. One shade closer to the divine.

⚶ ┆ Woven together like lace under the pale light of a waning moon. He can't be sure where he ends and she begins. She pierces straight through him like he belongs to her, and in some capacity, he knows that he does. There is no room left in his heart for desire of this nature. It has reached its bounds and collapsed inward on itself — a singularity the size of her that takes of these moments and stretches them infinitely, ever deeper, ever denser; inescapable.

Too much would never be enough and yet he counts every falling grain of timesand, tallies them up, and says his Hail Mary's in correspondence. Blessed is he for these hands to hold her, for these eyes to view her, for this mouth to speak her name. Blessed is he for the breath and the bread, the water, the whine.

Under his breath, to no god in particular, he issues his thanks.

"You're still awake." Her voice is strained by the small hours. The calm is sweeping her away and yet she remains afloat, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to slow before she sinks into sleep. "Your train leaves early. You should rest."

His own voice is gravelly, thick with syrup, when he attempts to quell, "There will be another train. There is always another train."

There is nothing more important than this — her head on his chest and his fingers in her hair, scarlet as the sun's kiss and softer than silk.

She shifts so that she can look at him, and the nightglow catches the honey of her eye. "You should rest," she reiterates, and though she aims to chastise, he can feel her care bleeding through her touch.

"I will," he promises, though he chooses not to specify when. "I'm not ready for tomorrow."

He feels her hum before he hears it. Gentle as a lullaby, it dims his vision, and he finds a brief reprieve inside his eyelids.

"You're ready," she assures, succinct as ever.

"You're right," he concedes through a sigh, "I don't want this to end."

"Then don't end it," she slides her hand into his, weaves their fingers together in an airtight knit, "Water it. Let it grow. Keep it alive while we're apart."

He responds first through a light squeeze, a bit of humor trapped in his chest, and he can't deny that, "There are some things even I can't kill."

[luvchaew]

⚶ 𝇂𝇃 LANGUAGE BARRIER (or not?)

chaebol 성훈 𖹭 ceo reader wc𓈒 567 ˃ ᵕ ˂ fluff, cursing, crackk WHERE sunghoon isn't aware of the fact that you speak Korean so he keeps saying how beautiful you are ≛

𝑚. 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

behind all the luxury of the auction and the terrific objects they presented every night, you always ended up facing the real purpose of the event: encountering people as influent as you and giving them some fake smiles, sparing your human traits to give way to a polished and soft-spoken version of yourself.

tonight, the evening seemed to revolve around one name: Park Sunghoon.

a young chaebol that came all his way from Korea to be here, thus the excitement around making deals with him.

the only con was that he barely spoke english, therefore, he had his loyal comrade — Sim Jaeyun, australian that had roots in Asia — glued by his side, interpretating and grinning politely at everyone.

you were next to the bar, getting another dose of champagne when they approached you, bowing.

“hello!” sunghoon greeted in Korean, and you opened your mouth to respond. however, before you had the chance to, the other man said the same but in english, tilting his head.

you immediately changed your demeanour, shifting weight to the other foot and adjusting your shoulders so they'd match the importance of the conversation you were about to have.

“i heard you've come from Korea to be here, right?” you asked, glancing directly at Sunghoon.

whilst Jake told him what you said, he didn't even seem to blink, watching you in shameless awe, and when he did open his mouth, the response wasn't quite what you expected it to be; “she's really pretty, man. like, look at this dress and those lashes, they're literally calling for me”

you frow your eyebrows, dumbfounded by his not-so-corteous response, and when the shorter one starts his lecture about ‘how great the auction is and the terrific time they're having’, you finally comprehend.

they don't know you speak korean at all.

hence, you decide to go along with it, keeping your facade composed and as well-mannered as ever.

“we were deeply interested in investing in vehicles stocks, indeed. it's great you showed up!”

“do you think you can get me her number? i mean, damn— i don't know what she's saying but it's really charming” Sunghoon murmurs, face so serious you'd never believe his words if you weren't hearing it. lips perfectly curved in a small smirk, hair graciously falling on his forehead, dress shirt clinging to his broad shoulders: he looked like the most chivalrous and gentlemanly man in the room, except he wasn't.

Jake shot him a pointed look, trying to hide his annoyance, and turned his head at you; “absolutely! we'd be very content to keep in touch. Asia really needs significant people like you.”

“you flatter me, Sunghoon.” you raise an eyebrow at that, sounding more sarcastic than you'd intended, “it's our pleasure.”

with some other compliments and exchanged courtesies, the conversation seems to come to an end, and the chaebol bows to you again, expressionless.

you clench your jaw, walking forward. when you stroll enough you're sufficiently close to him, you lower your voice, whispering so only he'd listen;

“i do speak Korean, you know” you express in your flawless-accent, the smile noticeable with the sound of it. you chuckle darkly before stepping ahead, not even bothering to check his reaction.

you considered it a signed contract.

[mismatched-sockss]

You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

[theaceofharts]

meet 🍰🐉 president ayn alwyn (dragon city variant)

    ⚶ lovebrush chronicles

Full Name - Ayn Alwyn Age - 28 Species - human paragon Pronouns - he/him (cisgender) Sexuality - demi-homosexual biromantic

hailing from a bad end, where humanity lost to a conquering alien empire whose survival depends on hollowing out worlds to harvest emotions until they're fit only for destruction, president ayn alwyn serves as the last line of defense between humanity and the invading outsiders - a thankless task that has long hardened him to a cold, aloof man who wields power and force to ensure that his people survive in the face of a might they're unable to remotely comprehend (and if, behind the scenes, he still carefully stokes the fires of rebellion, yearning for the day they burst once more into flame, well, that's no one's business but his own and that of the face that mocks him from the holoscreens, his missing partner-in-crime, the little painter from another world who was taken back by the very people she once tried to fight).

Content Warnings - Alien Invasion + Technological Dystopia (he's from a bad ending), Blackmail + Extortion + Ruthless Behavior, Survivor's Guilt + Grief/Mourning, Character Death (not his own) Shipping Disclosures - I'll be honest in that, as feral as I am to have a good ship with the Dragon City variant of Ayn, he's also probably going to be one of the hardest to ship with, simply because I usually run with that he's living in denial about his relationship with the MC being doomed right up until he's confronted with the reality that she's not coming back. Chemistry is really important for him, and I'd love to find someone interested in a slower burn that builds up over time, since he's just not really one for one-night stands or opening up to people he's not already comfortable with. Additional Note - Lovebrush Chronicles is a game with a canonical multiverse, so much of the work that would ordinarily be done with verses is instead handled via variant counterparts. This is why there is only one headcanon tag despite that I do separate out his variants (which also will limit the verses for individual variants). If something doesn't fit setting-wise for a potential crossover, one of the others is likely to be more helpful (and if not, just nudge me, I'm always happy to gush about my niche little otome game).

    verses

Dragon City (Base) - in the wake of humanity's defeat at the hands of alien invaders, ayn serves as the disaffected, aloof, cold-hearted president of dragon city, a cyberpunk dystopia that serves as the last bastion of the human race, ruled by greedy businessmen and mind-numbing addicting virtual reality games that hold the people's attention captive and harvest their emotions as tribute to the conquering race. beneath the surface of pragmatism, however, lurks a soul desperate to spark a rebellion once more, working from the shadows to engineer this truth to become a reality, not only for his people but for the real, long-captive counterpart of the android "bodyguard" at his side.

↳ Note - This verse is compatible with Honkai: Star Rail, with Dragon City operating as the civilization on one of the planets that has been claimed by the Infinite Empire, an aggressively militaristic people whose lives are unnaturally prolonged via harvesting the emotions of the planets they conquer and hollow out. (Naturally, most of the more advanced civilizations/groups try to avoid interacting with the Infinite Empire, as they are notoriously duplicitous and deceitful, but with their technological might and the preternatural abilities of their over-empathetic possible-future-time-hopping "Travelers", there are few who can hope to challenge them and live to tell the tale.)

Modern (Past) - before the invasion and humanity's defeat, ayn wasn't the ruthless leader he is but instead a standoffish, "lone wolf" of a music student. presenting as cold and aloof, in truth, the heir to the alwyn crime empire has rejected his birthright to instead pursue his passions in piano and video games, unaware of his true nature as a paragon (one whose soul is primed to rise to the occasion whenever a threat materializes to destabilize a world).

Final Fantasy VII (Adapted Verse) - shinra general electric company may have long since taken over midgar, but when it came to technology, alwyn industries (alwynd, as it became known more widely) was always considered the finer product. sabotaged at almost every turn by shinra, the company has remained to this day, headed by its heir, ayn alwyn, whose motives and interests have remained ever a mystery, even to the most comprehensive of turk investigations...

    additional information

(old) application freeform

You will never forget the day everything changed.

It had been a day like any other - your little painter was sitting out on the porch, paintbrush in hand, Beanie batting at the edges of her long sweater as they danced in the air while she worked. The wind tugged lightly at her hair, making the grass ruffle in the yard, and as you watch her smear a streak of crimson paint across her cheek when she hurriedly scrambled to grab her beret before it can be yanked away, you couldn't help but feel your heart swell at the sight and your fingers itch to dance across the keys of your piano. (You love her. Fantastic, mysterious, impossible creature that she is, you love her. You love her.)

You were just beginning to turn, to pour her a cup of tea just the way she liked it, when the television turned on behind you. Your brow pulled together, knowing you had turned off the system last night before you had gone to bed, not wanting to hear her scold you for how quickly you had rushed through the game she'd gotten for you just last week as a present. And then, she screams.

You both watch on in horror as it happens - as the Outsiders drag forward her guardian, Professor Anselm, beaten and bloody, and throw him down before the camera. They take his life there, for all to see, his only crime that of loving the girl he had promised to protect so much that he had hidden what she had loved most from those who would only wish for its destruction. And as she sobbed into your shirt, her heart ripped out of her chest just as yours had once shattered long ago, at the side of a bed with cream covers and the softest scent of vanilla over antiseptic and disinfectant, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

You rose to the occasion, just as you always did (according to what she'd tell you, in those moments tucked away in your secret base, her tone hushed as she told you of worlds only she had ever seen, worlds where you did what must be done to protect those who had placed their faith in you to keep them safe and show them a brighter tomorrow). All four of you did, Paragons each and every one of you, those souls who always step up whenever a world is in crisis, when it is in most need of a savior. This time, however, it is your world. This time, it is your world.

And you wouldn't be enough.

You fight. Of course you do. You fight with everything you have in you and more - the businessman, the star-gazer, the president, the pianist, and their beloved little painter - to try to stop them, to try to save humanity. But even with every scrap of everything the four of you have to offer, with every bit of courage and skill and wisdom she has acquired over the course of her endless travels, all the worlds she's seen and the lives she's lived, it isn't enough. It isn't enough.

And so it is that you are forced to make a choice. The businessman and the star-gazer know what they must do - the sick and the weak must be protected, and so it is that they turn their attention towards the knowledge she had stolen, the maps she had charted through the stars, and they leave to live among them, to allow humanity the chance to live, even if it means running away, even if it means chasing the light of the stars for the rest of their days.

You two remain, the pianist and the president, and you keep fighting. You keep fighting until the day comes that you can't fight anymore. Until the day that she walks into the ship, her head held high (the president's blood on her hands, invisible yet ever-present after she'd tried to stem it from the wound the Outsiders had torn in him to pluck his life for their own). She makes a deal with them - humanity's survival, in exchange for their emotions. Peace, in exchange for herself.

You don't want to accept it. You don't. But she makes you promise to protect them, Dragon City, the people that she had given herself to protect, and you cannot deny her, not in this, not when she has placed her faith in you. You let them take her away while you remain, with responsibility shackling you like chains, all because she asked you to wear them.

You become the monster they force you to be, all because she asked you to.

The Outsiders call her the ambassador to humanity, parade her on the holoscreens to speak the words they put in her mouth; the people call her a traitor, spit on her name as the only two of the human race with the authority under their rule. It angers you, hardens you - pushes you to take your first human life (becuase yes, you do take it then, your gun kicking in your hand and your eyes burning for the names they called her), for all that you swallow back the words when she calls your name from the hollow shell of the robot she sent to you, her own puppet simply to see you again. They turn on you too, for the lies you tell, for how you promise happiness only to steal away the lives of anyone who volunteers for the program, to offer their emotions to the Outsiders in exchange for a virtual paradise of their own making. You become cold, cruel, calculating - the President of Dragon City, the last bastion of humanity.

(You modify the systems of the Dragon City Consortium, to harvest not only emotions but intelligence, so you can use everything humanity has to offer to try to undo what has been done. You save a boy named Santos, a boy who can move through the systems and is willing to harness the truth of your nature if it means getting his hands on the Fleet Defense System. You found the Hidden Dragon and nurture it until it is ready to bare its fangs at all those who have sought to keep it from soaring in the sky. You do what you must, because you are the king who is going to lead the Dragon City and humanity to fight against the Outsiders.)

1307 days since the defeat. 7 days until the new year.

[eien-nx-tsubasa-blog]

⚶ ——  He had been going on autopilot while working on the companies                number. However that autopilot can only hold him in his sleep                before long his head dipped hitting the table. Quickly he sat up                straight and looked around to see if anyone had caught that slip up. 

[mismatched-sockss]

By your side

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader » Word count: 2,6k » Warnings: fluff with some angst, established relationship, mentions of reader wearing jewellery (necklace) and make up, pet names (honey, baby) » A/N: no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

Being in a relationship with an FBI agent - especially one working in the BAU - meant, dreading each phone call or text they got when they were off the clock and the both of you were spending time together. But it also meant, dreading each phone call you got, when they were out of town and / or state working on a case. The small heart attack you suffered every time the phone rang, the fear of hearing something happened or that they wouldn't be coming home... You prayed to who ever was listening, that you would never get the latter.

Sometimes, it meant dreading to get a call from them before they even had the chance to see you.

Your hands were still holding the clasp of your necklace between your fingers, just about to close it, when your cellphone rang. The screen lit up and for a second you closed your eyes, not quiet ready to confirm who it was.

For a second you wished the caller would be anyone else but - hell, you would even prefer it if it was your mother, who you had not spoken to in almost ten years.

A sigh left your lips when you opened your eyes and looked at the screen: Spence❤️

Well, looked like your evening plans would change.

You lowered your hands, still holding your necklace and placed it back on to the small glass bowl where you kept your most used jewellery in.

You cleared your throat before you answered the call, trying to keep even the slightest bit of disappointment from your voice. And then, you put on a smile and held your phone to your ear. "Hi, you."

"Hey." Spencer drew the greeting out, he sounded less enthusiastic then you had forced yourself to sound. This was the last piece you needed, to know that he wasn't just calling to tell you that he was excited to see you later.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, slightly gnawing on your lip.

"Where?", was all you asked. This time, you couldn't keep your tone light, no matter how hard you were trying.

After a short silence: "Oregon. Lakeview."

You nodded slowly, even though you knew he couldn't see it. "When-", you had to clear your throat again, "uh, when are you leaving?"

"We're about to get on the jet", Spencer answered. It pained him just as much as you, maybe even more, that he had to cancel on you. Again. On your one year anniversary of all days. And you didn't even have some time to at least talk on the phone for a couple of minutes before he had to go.

For a moment neither of you said a word. This wasn't the first time he had to cancel your plans due to his work and it sure as hell would not be the last time. You knew what you were getting yourself in to when Spencer and you started seeing each other. You knew that it would probably happen more times than not and you accepted it; you were more than understanding that the bad guys didn't care for nine-to-fives, weekends or holidays.

You were more than understanding that, while yes, you were a priority in his life, the job would have to come first. And you were fine with that, his job wasn't one he could just “pause” to spent more time with you. But no matter how okay you were with Spencer's unpredictable work hours, that didn't mean it didn't affect you. You couldn't help but feel sad and disappointed when ever he got called away, every time wishing he would stay.

You knew from the start, that it would be hard and it would take a lot of work. But he was worth all of this.

Over the phone you could hear another voice, too distant to make out what was being said, but you didn't need to. It was your cue: your time was up.

"I'm s- I have to go. I'm sorry, honey", Spencer apologized. He would apologise a hundred times more if you'd let him.

"It's okay", you say, a sad smile on your lips.

"I am so sorry, I promise I'll make it-"

But you interrupted him, knowing that he wanted to say that he would make it up to you; and knowing, that he would. "It's okay, baby. Go, they need you. Really, it's okay. I'm okay. I'll see you when you get back. Just... Be safe, okay?"

"I will", he promised, "I will... I love you."

"I love you too." Then, the call ended.

You took in a shaky breath to calm yourself down and wiped the single tear that had escaped from your cheek. Exhaling all the air in your lungs out at once, you squared your shoulders and made eye contact with yourself in the mirror. You had only gone through your skin care routine after you got out of the shower, so there was no make up you had to remove.

A tight lipped smile on your lips, you nodded at yourself. "Just gonna be you, some chinese take out and a nice relaxing horror movie tonight", you mumbled. You stood up, changed into some comfortable clothes and then walked into the kitchen to get the flyer of your favourite chinese restaurant out of the drawer.

It had been almost a week since then. He hadn't told you any details of course, but the simple textbook case that first landed on their desks had turned out to be much bigger than anyone could have imagined.

Spencer had called you every evening, and hearing his voice calmed your worries and fears of him getting hurt, but each phone call made you miss him more and more.

Tonight, he hadn't called you yet and it was getting pretty late. You had gotten a text from him not too long ago, a quick check in, so you knew he was okay.

While you waited, you had brought a book and cup of tea with you as you moved from the couch to your bed. With a pillow in your back, you were leaning against the headboard, your blanket draped over your legs, and your phone lay next to you on the bed.

You looked up from your book to check the time. It was close to one o'clock and it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, sleep already pulling at your conscience, but you didn't want to go to sleep without talking to Spencer. A couple of minutes would do it, you just wanted to hear his voice. You continued reading, but Morpheus had other plans for you, and so you drifted into a deep sleep, your book still in your hands.

A soft touch, first on your forehead and hair, then on your shoulder pulled you out of your dreams just enough for you to feel the bed dip behind you, followed by an arm sneaking around your waist. You hummed happily, when lips pressed against your shoulder and your neck in a few chaste kisses before you were pulled closer against a firm chest.

The smell of coffee and something sweet tickled your nose hours later, slowly stirring you awake. With your eyes still closed you inhaled through your nose, sniffing the air, trying to make out the different smells. If you weren't mistaken, Spencer had baked blueberry-pancakes. It smelled delicious, that was for sure.

Your attention was quickly drawn away though, when you became aware of the feathery kisses being planted on your neck; you vaguely remembered feeling the same kisses last night. A hand gently rubbed over your upper arm, from your elbow up to your shoulder where fingertips moved so softly over your shoulder blade it almost tickled, before the hand travelled back down to your elbow.

A smile spread on your lips as your heartbeat quickened and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your stomach. You sighed and slightly moved your head to make more room for the man behind you.

You could feel the lips on your skin stretching into a smile as well, could feel the low chuckle bubbling up in the chest that was pressed against your back. He scooted even closer, moulding his body to the silhouette of yours. Spencer planted one last kiss on the top of your shoulder before he rested his cheek against it and looked at you.

"Good morning", he said softly, his warm breath hit your ear and a shudder ran down your spine. He, obviously, had been up for a while already, but his voice still had that raw and rough undertone like it always had in the morning.

"Hey", you sighed as you stretched your tired muscles, then you turned around, bringing your hand up to touch his cheek. "You're back."

He hummed and leant into your touch, his eyes closed. You let your eyes wander over his face, checking for any cuts or bruises. Relief flooded through you when you didn't find any.

"You okay?", you asked.

He nodded and reached up to cover your hand with his. "Just tired."

"I bet. You didn't say you were coming back. Waited for you to call", you mumbled.

He kissed your wrist and gently squeezed your hand, then he opened his eyes again to meet your gaze. "Surprise?", he joked, but you could hear a hint of guilt in his tone. "I hope I didn't keep you up too long? I'm sorry, I should have at least texted you."

You shook your head. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad your here now and that you are okay."

"But-", he started but you closed the space between you and kissed him.

"Shh, no buts. I'd stay awake and wait the whole night if it means that I get you back, unharmed and in one piece." You kissed him again, letting you lips linger a bit longer this time.

When you pulled away and saw his furrowed brows and the conflicted look in his eyes, you could almost hear the gears in Spencer's mind working.

He moved his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair and pulled you closer. He pressed his lips against your forehead, but not in the light hearted way he had kissed you before, then he tucked your head under his chin. And if he wouldn't have been so close, you might not have heard the words he whispered next.

"You deserve so much better..."

If someone would have stabbed you with a dull knife multiple times right into your heart, it wouldn't have hurt you as much as his muttered words just had.

"Don't say that", you said, your voice muffled with the way your face was so close to his neck.

In contradiction to what he was implying - or maybe especially because of what he was implying -, Spencer's hold on you tightened, leaving no room for you to put any distance between the both of you even if you wanted. "Why not? It's true... You don't deserve-"

"A sweet and loving boyfriend, who gets up to make breakfast even on days when he had about two hours of sleep at best, all after a whole week of working like 24h a day?" You did your best to sound light hearted. "Wow, that's harsh."

He huffed, but stayed silent for a moment.

"I mean it, you don't deserve someone who you can't even make plans with, without the possibility that they have to leave in the middle of it and who leaves you alone all the time", he mumbled against the crown of your head. It took everything in you not to start crying; for you, for him, for the possibility of an end to the future you wanted with him. "I hate that I have to cancel our dates all the time. I feel like I'm letting you down..." You felt his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "And I would understand if you wouldn't want to put up with that any more.”

You placed your hands on his chest and pushed slightly, just enough so you could lean your head back and look at him. Tears had not only welled up in your eyes, but his as well. To stop your lip from quivering you pulled it between your teeth. You slid one of your hands higher, over the side of his neck and up to the side of his face. For a moment you softly stroked your thumb over his cheek, but then went on to try and flatten out the space between his brows, to remove the deep frown on his face.

You took a deep breath. “Did you save some lives in Oregon?”, you asked him, you voice not much louder than a whisper.

“Huh? What?” Confusion was written all over his face.

“Did you?”

“Uh, yes.”

You smiled at him. “And did you catch the bad guy?”

“... Yes.”

“Good." You brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes behind his ear. "That's enough for me. Then there is nothing to feel bad about. You don't leave on purpose or with ill intentions. Then things don't always go as planned, so what? I know how much this job means to you, and I know how important it is for the people in need that you do it."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye and landed on the pillow. You let your eyes wander over his face, before stopping to meet his gaze.

"And that's exactly why you deserve better", he whispered, his voice braking.

You shook your head. "I don't want anything or anyone else. I don't want what ever you mean by better." You leaned closer, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I want you. " Another kiss to the other side. "And only you." You planted a kiss on the tip of his nose next. "With or without a crazy and unpredictable work schedule. I'm not gonna lie, yes it's hard. And I need you by my side, too. But still, I wouldn't trade it for the world." You pressed your lips to his, before you whispered: "I love you. More than anything. And I'm gonna stay by your side, come hell or high water, for as long as you'll have me. So don't shut me out, or push me away and try to get me to leave. Because I won't."

Both of you were in tears by now, not even trying to stop it any more. Neither of you said anything else for a minute or two, instead you let your words settle.

Spencer cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away with his thumb. "I have no idea what I did to deserve you. How did I get so lucky?", he said softly and then brushed the pad of this thumb over your bottom lip.

You giggled. "That's my line."

He smiled and closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. "I love you", he breathed out against your lips before he kissed you again.

You smiled into the kiss. “I love you too.”

For few minutes the both of you just basked in the bliss of the moment; laying warm and content in each others arms, the soft sound of birds chirping outside the bedroom window and the promise of a delicious breakfast that was waiting for you.

And there was only one question left to ask.

“Eat in the kitchen or breakfast in bed?”

[mismatched-sockss]

Say something

» Summary: You and Emily have been seeing each other for a couple of months now -without anyone knowing -, but can't keep being her secret. » Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Word count: 3,9k (omg, when??) » Warnings: angst, it's implied that reader is outed - Emily isn't, allusions to intercourse in the beginning, mentions of (internalized) homophobia, mentions of coming out (forced coming out is mentioned, one (1) small implication of conversion therapy like stuff (it's only talked about, no details or anything close)) and unsupportive family, mentions of Emily's mother probably not accepting her sexuality (like Rosa Diaz' mother/parents in Brooklyn 99, and a thing or two my own mother said), Emily is kind of mean ig?, cheating but not really?, cm typical stuff is mentioned (not detailed), kind of open but definitively more leaning to a sad ending; please let me know if i missed anything! » A/N: written for @imagining-in-the-margins' Pride Challenge, i used the “It’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” dialogue prompt; also based on Say something I'm giving up on you by Sam Redden; tenses? i don't know her here; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

The euphoric bliss that had flooded over you just moments before, leaves your body with every passing second, and the more it wears out, the more the dreadful empty feeling that had slithered its way into your heart not too long ago takes its place. Your breathing is still going fast and your heart hasn't had enough time to slow down yet, when you narrow your eyes while looking at the ceiling. Why did you do this to yourself? Again. This couldn't go on like this.

"I can't do this any more."

You can hear Emily move next to you, turning her head to look at you. She is breathing fast and her warm breath hits your bare shoulder. "What do you mean?" She brushes a few stands of her hair back that had fallen over her eyes.

All of a sudden everything is getting too much. The sensation of sweat running down the back of your neck, the air Emily is exhaling and how it is hitting your skin, over all her presence next to you in the bed. Her bed. Naked.

With a scoff you sit up and bury you face in your hands before you slide them up, racking your fingers through your damp hair. "This. Us. I just- I can't go on like this, spending my nights with you and act as if I haven't touched every inch of your body the next day."

Today is not the first time you had said it out loud and talked about it with her, about wanting to be able to hold and kiss her around other people. It is not the first time you are thinking about this, about leaving because nothing changed event though she had promised and her reasons – excuses , really, at this point – had been valid in the beginning, but now, every time she comes up with a new one they sound more and more made up. Honestly, you can't remember the newest one to a full extent – it had been so absurd –, but it had something to do with her shoes. Like, come on, really? Shoes...?

For a short moment it is silent except for both your breathing. You wait, and when she doesn't say anything you get up to get dressed. Nothing more than your name leaves Emily's lips, and not louder than a whisper, as you walk around the room to pick up your clothes and put them back on. “What?” you say flatly, but you don't look at her. You close the button of your pants and look around the room for your second sock.

“It's good what we are having. I like it how it is.” She shuffles closer, crawling over to edge of the mattress. “And sneaking around is exciting, isn't it?”

You crouch down to pull the missing sock from under the bed and bite down on your lip as your heart clenched painfully. Sneaking around?

“Is that what this is to you? Just... Sneaking around? That's all it is, huh.” A dry laugh leaves your lips as you slip the sock over your foot and then turn to walk out of the room.

“Oh c'mon, Y/N. It's fun, isn't it?” – Fun?! So this was just fun for her? – “You and I, we... It's enough how it is, don't you think?”

With one step out of the bedroom, the other foot still inside, you look back over your shoulder. “All this hiding is enough for you?” You don't fully turn around, you don't want to face her and look into her eyes. Don't want Emily to see the tears that are starting to pool in your eyes or how much her words are breaking your heart.

“I'm not hiding”, she says, defending herself, totally ignoring what you really meant.

You shake your head and leave the room, picking up your bag from the couch in the living room as you walk past it. “You are. And I get it, you're not out and that's okay.” Emily gets up from the bed and quickly puts on a bathrobe before she follows you out, watching you collect your things and walking to the front door. “You shouldn't come out unless you are ready. But at least be honest with yourself-”

“I am. not. hiding”, she interrupts you, her voice sounds strained and as if she is speaking through gritted teeth. The soft pat pat of her bare feet on the floor stop just two meters behind you.

Something in you snaps. "Yeah well, you are hiding me and I'm sick of being your god damn dirty little secret! I love you for fucks sake!"

You freeze as soon as the words leave your mouth, in the middle of putting on your jacket, and for a moment neither of you says a word, the silence seems louder than anything else, louder than how loud you just yelled those words. It was the first time either of you had said those three words to the other and the timing could not be any worse.

"You... What?"

You shake your head, breaking out of your frozen state and bend down to put on your shoes next. "Forget it. I'm done." is what you say. We're done is what you mean.

You wish she would at least say something, but Emily stays silent and when you reach for the door and open it, she doesn't keep you from walking out. When you close the door behind you, she doesn't open it again to call out for you. And when you reach the stairs at the end of the hallway and take the first steps down, the door stays closed and she doesn't run after you.

She let you leave like it was nothing, like you were nothing. Like all the time you had spent together meant nothing to her. All those days and nights full of hushed voices whispering sweet nothings to each other, full of soft touches and even softer kisses. Emily let you walk out of her apartment, her life, as if you never meant anything to her, like the last six months indeed were nothing more than fun to her.

From the moment you step out of the door of Emily's apartment building, to the moment you walk in and close the door of your own, you feel numb and you operated solely on autopilot on your way home. If someone were to ask you what route you had taken home or if you missed a red light even, you wouldn't be able to tell them.

As if a it hasn't been enough for one night, you get called into work just 30 minutes later; the body of a young woman had been found, tortured and mutilated, and another young woman had been abducted only five miles from where the body was found.

When you arrive in the round table room you greet your team mates grimly and you are relieved that you got in before Emily. When she enters minutes later, you don't turn around, you don't say hello and you do your best to ignore her. The tension in the room is palpable and judging by the looks the others shoot between her and you, they know that something had happened between you two.

They didn't know that you were dating – hooking up? What ever the fuck it had been to her anyway –, but you didn't have to be a profiler or even know either of you personally to see that something was up. Hotch is kind enough to not team the two of you up, sending you to the disposal site with Rossi instead.

The days since you walked out of Emily's apartment turned into weeks. The days turned into weeks since you last talked, like really talked. You had kept your distance to her as much as you could, trying to sort out your feelings and trying to see if she would take a step in your direction, to see if she even cared at all.

But, slowly but surely you had to accept the fact, that everything pointed to her not caring about you. Every conversation with her was strictly professional, talking about the cases was the only time you spoke to each other. Not a day goes by when you don't wish she would say something more to you, something personal, something deeper. Something emotional. That she would say something that would keep you from giving up on her. But she never did.

You should have known from the start that this was how it would end, that the only outcome from getting involved with Emily would be that you would end up with a broken heart. Naivety couldn't even begin to describe why you had even wasted a single thought about having a future with her, a happy ending; with Emily, a woman who hasn't come out, a woman with a mother who would be more okay with her daughter being the side chick of some married man, maybe even multiple, than to accept her daughter to be in a relationship with another woman; a mother who says, that she “doesn't care who her daughter ends up with, as long as it isn't someone of the same gender”.

Ever since the night you broke up with Emily – if you could even call it a break up when you weren't even a couple, officially speaking – you cry yourself to sleep and your feelings are bouncing back and forth, scrambling your mind and heart in to a broken, confused mess.

On one side, you are drowning in the shattered pieces of your heart; the pain getting stronger every time you see Emily, the longing and yearning strangling you harder every time you are left alone in a room with her, the floor under your feet crumbling away stone by stone with every day that passes without her reaching out to you. You miss her, you miss her so fucking much, and way more than you would like to admit – even to yourself, which is kind of hypocritical, considering you had told Emily to “be honest to herself”.

On the other side, you are cursing yourself for unintentionally giving her an ultimatum of some sort; not only for going public about your relationship, but therefore also for her to come out, even if only to your team, your friends. It was far from your intentions to pressure Emily into anything she didn't want to do, into something that she wasn't ready for. You never set a time or anything like that, but the implication was there – intended or not – by wanting to go public.

It is scary; coming out... As a woman who loves women, a man who loves men or either loving both. It doesn't matter if you come out as transgender, non-binary or gender-fluid, asexual or aromantic, or … or. ... or ... It doesn't matter who you are or what you feel or who you love: it is hard and scary either way and you never know how the person in front of you will react, even if you think you know.

Coming out to people, to friends, who you trust and know on a deeper level – even when you already for a hundred percent are sure that they will accept you no matter what – is hard enough. Coming out to your family is another kind of scary uncertainty: hoping they will still love you, that they will accept and support you; the fear of them turning their backs on you, cutting you out of their lives and on top of all this, hoping that if this was the case, that this was all they would do, hoping it would stay the lesser kind of evil and that they wouldn't go to any extreme measures to try and “fix” you. It was already hard enough to come out planned and willingly at your own pace. But having to do it for what ever reason? Unimaginable. Cruel.

On more than one evening you dialled Emily's number, your thumb hovering over the green button and ready to press down. Ready to apologize for how you had reacted and what you had said, for pressuring her. Maybe even apologizing for telling her that you loved her –

Wait. What?

Yes, maybe you should swallow your pride and call her first and ask her to talk; but apologizing for your feelings? No, you were done with shoving your feelings down and taking what you could get and stay in a one-sided relationship – letting the person use and play with you while they were stringing you along. For them to give you a slither of requited affection whenever they could feel you slip away, depending on your soft heart and that you would stay in hopes they will requite your feelings, your love, someday. No, you were done slowly dying for unrequited love.

The ball is in her court and it is on her to throw it back or to keep it.

Being around Emily has gotten unbearable these last six weeks. You had never felt like this before, never felt like this for anyone else until you had met her. It was all overwhelming and too much, but not enough at the same time, the feelings overpowering you in the best and worst kind of ways; pushing and pulling at your heart, slowly tearing it apart but also glueing it back together in a wild storm of emotions. You felt like you were just starting to learn how to love, but also knowing exactly how to do it – how to love her, in the right way and with everything you had; heart, body and soul.

But it doesn't seem like your love is enough; enough to save what ever you and Emily had been having, to find your way back into each others arms.

The last straw, the rotten cherry on top, was on a night out with the team to celebrate a successful case at a bar near the FBI building and you walked in on Emily making out with someone else in a dark corner near the restrooms. It was too dark for you to fully see the other person. And for a second you aren't sure what would hurt you more: if she was making out with a man, or with a woman.

You get your answer rather quickly, when Emily sees you and pushes the person away. They stumble back a step or two and then turn their head to follow Emily's gaze. And... it's a woman.

There are no words to describe how you are feeling as the realisation sinks in; leaving you cold and numb. How could you have been so stupid? It had never been about her. Not about the hurtful and homophobic things her mother always says to her, not about her outing, not about her feelings. It had nothing to do with not being ready to come out and go public about your relationship. It had to do with going public about being with you. The problem, her problem, is and always has been you.

Is she really embarrassed about you, about being with you? That's a new one... You wonder if she ever even liked you in the first place.

It feels like an eternity before either of you move again, after just looking at each other.

“W- what are you doing here?” Emily mutters and you see her wince when she realises how stupid that question was.

You scoff and narrow your eyes at her. “Looking for the exit”, you answer her, deadpan, before turning on your heels and walking back to the table where you and your team were sitting to get your things. You don't answer any of their worried questions about what was wrong, you just down the rest of your drink and grab your purse. You get your wallet out and throw a couple of bills on the table to pay for your part of the tab before you walk out of the bar without another word.

You make your way to the office right after you walked out. Last week, you had gotten the offer to transfer back to the IRT again; well, unofficially offered actually. You had only been on Hotch's team for four years; before then, you had worked under Jack Garrett for quiet some time. Occasionally, maybe twice a year, you travelled with them for consultations. So when Matt Simmons goes on paternity leave in a couple of days, you are the first person Garrett asks to come back for the time being and you were happy to do so. Garrett had called you and as you spoke you joked about feeling hurt that he only wanted to keep you for one month. And even though he was joking too when he said he'd be happy to have you back permanently, you knew he meant it.

Just last week you hadn't been sure if you wanted to stay with your current team or go back. The stack of forms that were needed to request a permanent transfer were already sitting in a drawer of your desk, all filled out. The fact that you had filled them out right after the call ended should have told you then, that you already had made up your mind.

When you reach the sixth floor, you hear the ding of the elevator softly echo through the empty halls. You make a beeline to your desk in the bull pen and fish your keys out of your purse to unlock the drawer. Just when you took out the envelope with all the forms and reach down to close the drawer again, you hear the soft ding again, followed by the sound of the doors sliding open.

Your back is turned to the doors so you don't know who walks out of the elevator; you guess it had to be someone on their way to the crime lab or something.

Until you hear your name that is, and you immediately freeze. How the fuck did she know you would be here?

You turn around and see Emily standing in the bull pen, but keeping a distance to you. “Can we talk?” She slowly walks closer and her gaze falls on the envelope. “What are you doing?”

You press the tip of your tongue to your cheek and take a second before you answer. “Paper work.”

“Paper work?”

“Yes.” You pick up your keys and start to walk towards Hotch's office. You don't want to hear what she has to say.

She says your name again and grips your arm to stop you from walking away. “It's not what you think.”

You laugh at the cliche reaction. Of course it's not what you think. It never is, isn't it?

“Okay, what is it then? Tell me”, you challenge her as you turn to look at her, your tone cold and the corners of you lips are twitching to form a bitter smile, “Go on, tell me. Because it seems pretty obvious to me.”

You twist your arm out of her grip and before she even has time to say something, you bite out: “You know what? We're not even together, I don't care what you do and who you do it with. Fuck who ever you want for all I care. Start with your- who ever she is.”

“I don't want to talk about her.”

“Oh, you don't? Too bad. What else is there to talk about then?”

For a moment she opens and closes her mouth, ending her answer before she even spoke it out loud. “I-. I want to talk about u- about you and me.”

When you don't react she nods her head, like she is confirming that you had hear right and that it was indeed what she wanted.

“Really? Now, you suddenly want to talk to me, about us?” She nods again, her eyes wide and she is giving you the best pleading puppy dog eyes she can do.

“No.”

For a moment she is taken aback and she blinks a couple of times. “No?”

You take a step back and cross your arms over your chest. “No. I don't want to talk. The only reason you want to talk, now, is because I saw you. It's too late. You had six weeks to talk, but you didn't. You're too late. I would have followed you anywhere, you know. Wherever you would want me to go. I would have followed you to the end of the fucking world and would even walk farther, falling over the edge into the abyss. I would walk through fire for you and I'd do it with a smile.”

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling it all out; and just like you can't stop the tears that started to run down your face, you can't stop talking. “You're it for me, you are the one I love. And it’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” You sniffle and bite down on your lip. “You are the one. And if I am not to you, and you don't love me back that's fine but then at least have the balls to fucking tell me, instead of making up excuses why you don't want to tell anybody that we are seeing each other.”

She had put on a mask while you were talking, hiding her true emotions. Yet again, you wait for her to say something. And yet again all you are met with, is silence.

“Say something...”, you say, almost begging. “Just... Say something...”

Nothing. Emily stays silent and just looks at you, a vacant and unreadable expression on her face and in her eyes. The small part in you that is still wishing upon a star and is hoping, that she would come through, waited for her to talk. But it is no use. She stays silent, like all the other times in these last weeks. So much for her wanting to talk.

“Figures”, you scoff, a bitter smile stretching on your lips, and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I should have given up on you way before I even kissed you”, you say under your breath. You aren't sure if she heard you, but in all honesty, you don't care.

Without wasting another second you turn around and walk up to Hotch's office. You place the envelope with the filled out forms for your immediate transfer in the middle of your Unit Chief's – well, ex Unit Chief's– desk. His signature being the last thing you needed before you could file the request.

You walk out of his office, not sparing even one last look at Emily, who hasn't moved. A few steps after you passed her you stop for a moment to say something for a last time, before you cross the rest of the bull pen and walk out through the glass door; leaving the BAU behind. Leaving her behind.

Two small words, nothing more..

“Goodbye Emily.”

» A/N 2: i really hope i did this justice, especially the (not) coming out parts, tbh i don't think i myself ever really came out, like 'officially', but i have always been open about being bisexual (no idea if my parents ever really connected the dots, but we're no contact either way for different reasons, so what ever) so i'm not sure how well i portrayed it; ...

🌈 Always remember, no matter if you are in the closet or not: you are worthy, you are loved and you are perfect the way you are! Stay safe. 🖤🤎🤍❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[mismatched-sockss]

Where I never dared to stand

» Pairing: purely Spencer Reid x fem!Reader [NO JEID whatsoever] » Wordcount: 4k » Warnings: JJ's POV (3rd person), based on Where I Stood by Missy Higgins, we're staying within the realms of canon with this one - this focuses on JJ's feelings and my own interpretations regarding those, spoilers mentioned for s12!Spencer and 13×01 300, heavy spoilers for 14×15 Truth or Dare, kind of for 15×02 Awakenings too (i used a part of the conversation between JJ and Reid about what happend in 14×15), reader is Garcia's college roommate & friend, no time line mentioned but first meeting of Spencer and Reader is said to happen somewhere after JJ married Will to mid s10 (so somewhere from s8×01 to about s10×12, reader and Spencer are together when s10×13 happens), no mentions of Maeve only a vague mention that the last years have been rough for Spencer), » A/N: multiple mentions about reader being a woman / female, use of she/her pronouns, no body description, no mentions of readers clothes --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general » IMPORTANT!!!: i just want to say that i hated the way the writers where forcing the climax of 14×15 through out the whole s14 both on the characters and us, and i hated just about everything about the whole thing in general tbh, (after making Will such a big part of JJ's life JEID was over and done with, i never liked them as a ship in general; just wait until i'll unleash my hate for JJ in the future (hate only regarding the way she is treating Spencer, otherwise i like her for the most part)).... the only reason this fic happened in the way it is, is because i lost track of my initial plan when i got inspiration from the song, but then i kind of got carried away while writing; i tried to capture and bring out JJ's inner conflicts, the guilt she feels about all of it etc

⚶ masterlist ⚶

Jennifer Jareau liked you from the moment she saw you, no doubt about it. There was something about you, that uplifted the whole room you were in; it was hard to not be in a good mood when you were around.

Penelope had brought you along for a girl's night one evening. You had been her dorm room-mate in college and fate brought you back into each other's lives, when it just so happened that you moved into the same building she was living in. From then on, you joined them for girl's night on most occasions and it was just a matter of time until Penelope invited you to a party where not only the girls would be attending, but also the rest of the BAU team. It so happened to be Penelope's birthday party.

Everyone could see the sparks fly when Spencer and you met each other then. One look at the both of you was enough to see it; that this was a once in a life time, soulmate kind of thing. The kind of love you could only find in movies or books, the stuff all the cheesy romance movies JJ liked to watch were made of.

Something had stirred in her heart when she saw the two of you interact at Penelope's birthday party; a small ache, something she couldn't quite place at the time. So without further thinking about it, she brushed it away, forgetting all about it in the following days. That is, until the next time she saw the two of you. Together.

It was at one of Rossi's dinner parties not too long after Spencer and you met. Everyone was already accounted for in Rossi's backyard, except for Spencer. The doorbell rang and Rossi went to open the door; when he got back a big smile was plastered on his face and he was wiggling his brows suggestively. After him, Spencer walked in. With you. Holding hands.

Then and there the ache found it's way back into her heart, a little more persistent then the last time. This time she knew in an instant what it had been.

Jealousy. She couldn't stand your hands on him.

At the realization she had felt dizzy. Had it been any later in the evening she probably could have blamed the dizziness on the wine. But the glass she held in her hand was her first and she had barely nipped on it. No, it was because she was jealous, and the guilt she felt at the same time collided with it and mixed into an even bigger ugly thing that almost swept her off her feet.

Here she was, standing next to her husband and the father of her child, feeling jealous over another woman holding hands with her friend; a friend who she knew once had a thing for her, a friend who she may have had a thing for herself at one point but never even had went on a date with - actively avoided it even, if you thought about it. A friend, who she shouldn't have any feelings for that would call for her to be jealous when he got romantically involved with someone else.

A friend, she instead should be nothing less than happy for, after all the shit he had to go through in his life. She should be happy, that he finally had something good in his life, something that made him smile, something that made him happy. All she wanted was for him to be happy.

Will had commented that Spencer and you looked good together, that you made a cute couple. No matter who much that jealous part of her hated it, she had to agree.

That night at Rossi's she drank a couple more glasses of wine to flush out her confusing emotions than she maybe should have. When someone said something, she successfully played it off as being able to let go for an evening since her mother was watching Henry for the whole weekend. Luckily Will was okay with it, and even was pampering her the next day when she had a bad case of hangover.

After a short time, when JJ had sorted out her feelings, she really was happy for Spencer. So incredibly happy for him; that he had found his person. His safe haven. His forever.

And everyone could see it. That the two of you were perfect for each other.

She didn't think she had seen him this happy since... Ever, actually. Life had never been exactly easy on Spencer, but the last years had been especially rough for him. You were his rock when Gideon died, were there for him when his mom got worse and additionally stayed with her when he had to leave for a case after he took her in – oh, how much Diana loved you. You were the only person except for Spencer who she would let come close when she had an episode and was chasing the nurses away he hired. After he had been arrested in Mexico you as good as moved into his place to help (the nurse with) Diana. Whenever JJ came to visit her with the boys, she was amazed by the way you cared for Diana, so patient and understanding and affectionate, and how she would let you take care of her.

When Spencer had to go on mandatory leave after prison and the whole shit-show with Cat, JJ watched as you broke down the walls he had build around his heart in those three months he was locked away. She watched as you crumbled them down until you reached him again and then you gave him a new ground to build on, a ground back in safety and trust and love.

You broke his walls down, like JJ would never have been able to. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she could stand the fact, she just knew she should.

Back then, all those years ago when Spencer had sat down next to her on the jet with the Red Skin's tickets in his hand and asked her to go, she was scared. She knew that now, had realized it when Spencer and Penelope had been abducted by Meadows and the Messiah, when Emily spoke with her in the restroom and JJ was going crazy with worry about her best friends. Before, it had never really clicked for her, that maybe that was why she had invited Penelope to come with them to the game. Because a little voice in the back of her head had been whispering to her telling her to run, to turn away from him. She was scared of what could be, of what others might say and think.

Scared of hurting Spencer.

Deep down, she knew even back then, that she wasn't right for him.

And then, a year later, she met Will and the more serious their relationship got, the more any feelings for Spencer became platonic in nature. And it was good the way it was: working with each other, being friends. Maybe even something like best friends. It was enough.

She was happy with Will. She loved Will. She couldn't imagine life without him. The what if's and could have been's about Spencer hadn't been on JJ's mind in a very, very long time. Never really gone if she had to be honest, but not at the forefront of her thoughts all the same.

And since being honest was the keyword for today, here in this jewellery store forced with a gun pointing at her and Spencer and the other hostage, a rapid back and forth that could spiral more out of control with every passing second, the Truth she had to admit today, could change everything she had in her life.

"Truth." JJ swallowed after she said it and bit on the insides of her cheeks. Stand strong, show no fear; that was what she repeated in her head again and again, trying to fight of the raging panic that kept rising up in her chest ever since the guy had fired a warning shot in Spencer's direction just a moment ago.

"I want you to say something, you're afraid to say", the Unsub spat through gritted teeth. Saliva was pooling at the corners of his lips and the hand he was holding the gun in was shaking uncontrollably, “That you'd never tell anybody. And you better make it good!” He didn't take a step closer, he only shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but with the way he accentuated every word he was screaming with a movement of his hand, she felt like he was coming closer. Like he was placing the barrel of the gun closer to her body with every twitch, until he'd be able to press it right onto her sternum. “'Cause if it's not, it's gonna be the last thing you ever say!”

Her nostrils flared as she took a slow breath in, trying to calm her nerves enough to find an answer and to give him the answer without a waver in her voice.

“What's it gonna be?” This time when he shifted his weight, he did take a small step closer to her.

By the way her nose was aching and her eyes were burning she knew it would only be a matter of moments until the tears would fall. She blinked to keep the tears away a bit longer and avoiding eye contact with the Unsub, only looking at him for a second. When she answered, she cursed herself for how shaky her voice was. “There are only four people it trust in this world.”

“Boring”, he commented in a weird sing-sang before he pointed the weapon down and shot the Judge in the leg. The gun was immediately pointed back at JJ. “Next!”

The gunshot had drowned out the whimper she hadn't been able to hold back. And when the deadly attention was back on her, she immediately went back in to position - stand strong, show no fear. The second part almost wasn't manageable any more for her. “Uhm”, she let out, again racking her brain for an answer, something the would finally accept. What could she say? What was she willing to say?

“My, uhm.” The pained whimpers of the woman in front of her as she slowly slid down the cabinet distracted her, she wasn't sure if she was welcoming the distraction or not. JJ felt bad for even remotely feeling thankful that the woman was in pain. “My baby, I lost, I um-”, she looked around, first meeting the Unsubs gaze, then at a random point at the wall and back to him. The emotions bubbling up in her almost choked her and she had to clear her throat. She didn't want to tell him this, but she had to. “- wanted to name her Maggie.”

“BULL!”, he screamed and JJ jumped. “Come on, you can do better than that!” Again, waving the gun, closer and closer.

Spencer tried to get his attention and pull it away from her, calling out the Unsub's name. “Casey...!”

Now the gun was pointed at Spencers head. “SHUT UP!” And again with the uncontrolled waving and twitching. JJ felt like she couldn't breathe.

She jumped again when Casey suddenly was right in front of her, forcefully grabbing into the hair at the back of her head, pushing her down to her knees with the tight grip and possibly even pulling some strands out. “Okay, okay..”, she mumbled, whimpered. What could she say?

“Last chance! Something you'd never say aloud. Not even to your partner here.” For a moment he waved his gun at Spencer again. “Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I'll kill him.”

It was the first thing that came to her mind when the Unsub demanded this, and threatened Spencer's life. It was the only thing that fought its way through the panic. The panic that had clouded her mind for anything else but the need for survival. Hers. Spencers.

She couldn't hold back her tears any more. In a desperate attempt to catch Spencer's gaze, she darted her eyes to his direction. At the same time the guilt that was already coming over her and trying to pull her down, before she even said one word and it made her look away from him.

“COME ON!”

So she said it. Hoping, it would be enough to save their lives. Hoping, her fear of losing her best friend would stay just that. A fear. Hoping, that they would walk out of here alive and that nothing would change between them. That even after saying what she was about to say, they could go on like before, that they would be okay. Selfish as it was, JJ couldn't lose him. She just didn't know who she was without Spencer in her life. Her best friend, her confidant. Her fi-... She knew she should know it, that it made no sense to feel like this. But she couldn't help needing him.

With a shy look on her face, she turned to her friend, took a deep breath.

"Spence, uhm,” she started, shooting him a pained smile to ease his nerves and her own. And he looked at her, waiting for her to continue, with a sad but still vary and concentrated shimmer in his eyes. He was sitting weidly stiff and there was ovment in his shoulders but she wasn't able to focus on anything else than his face.

Or not, because JJ had to look away. She didn't think she could say this while directly looking at him. This was just too...

“I've always loved you", she admits, helplessly shrugging her shoulder as she said it. You meant more to me than anyone I loved before you, before Will.

It took Spencer a moment to understand, what she is saying. How she meant those three words, that they had said a lot of times to each other over the years, in a platonic way.

His eyes slightly widened when the words sink in. The true meaning behind them.

“And I wasjusttooscaredtosay it before.” Her words came out in a blur, almost undistinguishable. She exhaled and looked away, shook the hair out of her face with a quick motion of her head. And as she tried to bite back her tears,she scoffed. “And now, things are just”, the sob leaving her throat almost sounded like a laugh, “far too complicated to say it now.” I am married and have kids, my kids are your godsons. You have a girlfriend, the love of your life waiting for you at home. These are the things she didn't say, didn't need to say. Didn't want to say in front of everyone else in the room.

Maybe she did laugh. The situation was so absurd, so surreal. It almost didn't feel real if there wouldn't be this gun pointed at her.

With tears running down her face she forced herself to look at Spencer. “I'm sorry”, she breathed out. “But you should know.” In case I die here. In case you die here. I had to let you know.

He didn't give away what he was thinking or feeling, had closed off the expressions on his face after the initial shock. The whisper of a sad smile stretched his lips as an acknowledgement when she stopped talking.

The giggle the Unsub let out, made the bile rise into JJ's throat.

“Hot damn”, he laughed, switching between looking at her and Spencer. “That's what I'm talking about.”

Neither of them looked up at the man standing over them, caught in a silent conversation. Did I just destroy everything? - Don't worry. At least that was what she hoped he was saying with his eyes.

“Now those are some last words right there.” Could this guy please, please, please just stop waving the god damn gun around!?

For the fracture of a second, everything fell from JJ's shoulders. The guilt, the sorrow, the fear. She did it, her confessions had been enough. Worthy of saving them. Just when the muscles in her body relaxed, the gun was pointed back right in to her face, mere inches away. “But not good enough to safe your life!” Spit landed on her face.

JJ readied herself, even with the immense fear shooting through her whole body so harsh her body felt numb. The hole of the barrel drew her eyes to it, hypnotized her. For some reason, she started a countdown in her head.

Three, two – BANG!

Casey's legs gave out and he grunted as his weapon fell out of his hand and he helds his stomach. Then, he collapsed, his dead-weight body falling into the space between her and Spencer. Her brain had problems catching up after already checking out, after making some kind of peace with her immediate death.

She looked from the dead body, to Spencer and the gun in his hand, too stunned to ask or think about how he had managed to free his hands and where the gun came from.

They didn't speak a word to each other after their team burst in, there neither had been the time nor a fitting occasion to talk. They didn't speak until some time later in the evening, after the team made it back, just in time to get cleaned up and celebrate David's & Krystall's marriage.

When they finally shared some words when they both headed to the bar to get something to drink, they didn't talk long.

JJ was nervous. A whole lot of new what if's regarding Spencer were now on her mind. What if he hates me now? What if he wants nothing to do with me any more? What if he leaves me? She hated herself for being so selfish when the last one crossed her mind. She had been prepared to take this secret with her to her grave. But she had needed to say some thing real, something that would not only get the Unsubs attention, but also Spencers. Only then could she have made sure to get a chance at getting them out of there. She was sorry for spilling her secret, for doing this to him and burdening him with it. But now it was out an she couldn't take it back.

“So I, uh, I didn't get a chance to... say it back there, but...”, she started before saying anything else about her confession, having to start the conversation at least somewhere. “Thank you... for saving my life.” She smiled at him.

“You're welcome.” He nodded his head, a small smile stretching in his lips as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She laughed nervously. “So uh, Luke was right, two guns, huh? Since when have you been wearing an ankle holster?”

“Around the time I got out of prison”, Spencer smirked.

“Right.” JJ nodded, then quickly looked away, internally working herself up to get the next words out, the ones she so desperately wanted to ask him. “Look, uh, I... Are- are we, okay?” That was all she could hope for at this point. It was all she wanted. That they were okay.

He smiled at her reassuringly and nodded. “Of course.” His smile and the soft tone his voice held eased her nerves instantly.

She held back a sigh of relief and smiled. “Good.”

They fell silent as they wait, Spencer for his water and JJ for a glass of wine. She softly drummed the tips of her finger on the wood, before she turned around to find where you were standing. When your name fell from her lips Spencers eyes darted to you, not even having to search the room. Like a magnetic pull, something that just came natural to him, knowing where to find you. “She looks beautiful tonight.”

Spencer silently nods as his eyes roam your body, how the fabric of your outfit hugged itself around you. “Yeah”, he breathes out, almost inaudibly. “She is.”

The glass clinking as the drinks were served caught her attention and she turned to take hers into her hand. With her free hand she touched Spencers arm and squeezed lightly. Their gazes met and they shared a smile before she walked away.

Just when JJ got back to the table the music changed into a soft and slow tune. Will took the glass form her hand and pulled her away to dance with her. Happy, she leaned into him, and enjoyed the moment. Enjoyed being in his arms.

She couldn't help but look as Spencer and you found your way to other side of the dance floor. He pulled you so close to him, not even a sheet of paper would have had space between the both of you. He was smiling down at you as you were slowly swaying to the rhythm of the music together and you were smiling up at him just as bright. Lost in each others eyes. Every so often he would lift your intertwined hands from his chest up to plant a kiss to your knuckles, or he would brush the tip of his nose against yours before he stole a quick kiss from your lips. Not for one second losing the bright smile, that all but screamed that he was drunk on love.

Spencer was JJ's first love, and the first love is something special, something you can't just erase out of your heart as if it never had made it's home in there in the first place. He was a big piece of her heart and would always be. But she had never even dared to try and stand where you were standing now. By his side; as his partner, his equal. His other half. His forever.

Even if she wouldn't have Will and her two beautiful boys - and don't get me wrong, she wouldn't trade her life with her family for the world-, the way the two of you were clinging to each other right now, looking like you were deeply sunken into your own little universe where no one else existed; and so full of bliss and love for each other... There was no way she would destroy this, no way she would break you two apart.

There was nothing in the world that could break Spencer and you apart.

JJ couldn't hear what you were whispering about, she could only guess by the way you looked at each other and giggled occasionally. The longer you danced it seemed like you were melting into each other, merging your bodies and souls together to form one.

Emily's speech from earlier ringed in her ears then. Penelope says, that this was fate. That [their marriage] was in the stars. [They] are twin flames. Two souls, that are always meant to be together. […] The thing about twin flames is, that nothing can keep them apart.

It was similar to something she had heard Spencer himself say once: "There's an old Buddhist saying, that, when you meet your soulmate, […] the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." She thought both descriptions were fitting for what you and Spencer had.

As she let her eyes linger on your swaying forms, she suddenly felt like she was intruding something personal and intimate, so she averted her gaze and turned her head away. She rested her cheek against her husbands chest as she faced the other way and closed her eyes. JJ hugged Will closer and as his own hold on her tightened he rested his chin on the crown of her head.

It wasn't fair that she loved Spencer. Because she loved Will and her two boys too. Her family had made her who she was. But so had Spencer.

It wasn't fair to anyone involved.

She had never meant to hurt him, never. She just wanted him to be happy. And you made him happy.

No matter who much she loves Spencer now, had loved him before and would continue to love him, she could never love him as much as you did; the woman who stood where JJ never even had dared to stand.,

[mismatched-sockss]

Don't make me the villain

» Pairing: Emily Prentiss x (unsub!)gn!Reader » Word count: 1,3k » Warnings: NOT kinky but still 18+ only, MDNI since it is for the bingo, angst with no happy ending, established relationship, implications to sexual assault by multiple men (happened to reader, NO details, only vague mentions), murder, guns and gun shots, blood, death, pet names (baby); no use of pronouns or anything indicating reader's gender; pls let me know if i missed something!; barely proofread; » A/N: this is so not what i had planned - neither for both bingo fields nor is this the fic i actually wanted to post today, but that's okay; kind of inspired by Death of a Predator by Banshee; the next one will be smut again; enjoy? (':

⚶ bingo masterlist | masterlist ⚶

It was a sadistic twist of fate that had brought you here, you were sure. Someone upstairs was having a field day, pulling all the right strings for their own entertainment; but those strings were all kinds of wrong for you, the one on the receiving end of it.

Whenever you had imagined how your life would turn out, you would never have guessed it would end like this. Like every other person, you had wanted it all: dream job, living in a house with a picket fence together with the love of your life and your 2,5 children and maybe a dog or something.

Definitely not like this...

When you had heard the cops called the feds in after the third victim was found, you were hoping, praying, that it would be any other team than hers that would get assigned to the case.

But if any higher deity was caring about you and looking out for you, you wouldn't even be in this position in the first place. Or at least would have given you a couple more minutes before she arrived. They had barged in to the abandoned warehouse right after you bound the wrists of soon-to-be victim number four and made him kneel on the floor. You had just enough time to position yourself behind him; one hand holding the gun to his head, the other gripping deep and painfully in to his greasy hair.

Figures, that she was the one standing in front of you now, with her team fanned out to both her sides and a platoon of cops behind her. Each and every person has their gun raised, trained on you.

"Put the weapon down, baby", Emily pleads with you. "Please. You don't want to do this." Her voice sounds desperate, but still holds that special softness that is reserved for only you.

You scoff, your face twisted in a grimace of despair and anger. "I don't? Are you sure about that? Do you even know wha-", you stop yourself as tears are welling up in your eyes and a sob bubbles up in your throat, chocking you, as pieces of the memories flash in your inner eye.

"I know", Emily says pained. And of course she knows, she wouldn't have found you here if she didn't. And the cops would have done a bang-up job if not.

She removes her second hand from her gun and takes her finger from the trigger, then holds up both of her hands with open palms to show you that she doesn't mean you any harm. "I know what he did to you, what they did..." She slowly lowers her dominant hand, holstering the gun. "Let me help you. Please"

“Walk away; that's the only thing there is left to help me with.”

She takes a small step in your direction and says your name, pleading. ”You know I can't do that.”

“He's the last one”, you cry out, almost begging her to just let you do this; one last shot, one last kill.

Emily takes a second step. “And he will pay for what he has done to you.” Another small step closer. “I promise you, he will. Please, baby, give me the gun.”

A part of you is longing to be close to her, yearning for the safety she used to bring you; ready to do it and give up your weapon..But you won't, not before you did what you came here for. You sniffle and vehemently shake your head, holding her gaze. “I can't...”

When she moves to take another step, you press the barrel of the gun firmly against the guys temple and you hear him hiss. This asshole has to pay with his life, not with his time.

What happens next, happens in a matter of seconds; too fast to even make sense of it, too fast to register what is happening.

"I'm sorry...", you whisper as you let go of his hair and pull the trigger; warm blood splattering onto your face and the lifeless body of this waste of space falls to the ground in front of you.

A second gun gets fired merely a second later.

"Don't shoot!", Emily yells, but she wasn't as quick as the person whose finger had pulled the trigger on you. You don't know who it was. One of the cops? One of her team mates even?

You don't even feel the pain at first, the force of the bullet is what knocks you down. Pain shoots through your skull when your head hits the hard concrete, the fall knocking all the air out of your lungs. Your eyelids flutter as you are gasping for air.

Someone falls on their knees next to you, then you feel hands on your body and a scream leaves your lips when the person presses down on your stomach with all their strength, trying to stop the bleeding.

With all the commotion around, you can't hear what is being said to you. But when another wave of pain shoots through you, you don't even care.

"No, no, no, no", Emily mutters fast, "keep your eyes open. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. I need a medic!"

You try to keep your eyes open, you really do. If not to try and stay awake, then to at least have Emily's face be the last thing you see before the cold darkness swallows you whole. You wish she wouldn't look at you like this – with furrowed brows, tears streaming down her cheeks, with blood, your blood, sticking to her hands –, you wish she would have a happy expression instead, with the wide smile on her lips that you love so much, the skin at the corners of her eyes wrinkling the way it does when she laughs. You wish her eyes wouldn't be glistening with fear and pain in them, but shining with love and joy.

Slowly, you vision gets more blurry and the black spots on the corners grow bigger, closing in until your sight would be taken from you. Your ears are ringing and you feel the room starting to spin. With a shaking hand you reach up and cup her cheek. You wince when you see that your fingers were bloody, so you try to wipe the blood away. But in the attempts to remove it, you instead spread it more, covering half her face.

“'m sorry”, you mumble, not even sure what you are apologizing for, there are so many reasons; the blood on her face, the both you ending up like this instead of the future you had planned with each other.

Maybe you apologize for even loving her in the first place, for confessing your feelings and asking her out all those years ago.

Maybe you apologize for leaving her, especially in such a cruel and gruesome way.

You lower your hand and place it on hers where Emily is still pressing down on your stomach. You don't even feel the pain any more. She is speaking, but you don't hear what she is saying, the ringing in your ears is too loud, drowning everything else out.

You wish you could hear her say “I love you” one last time. If you would have known it was the last time that you would hear it, you would have cherished it even more the last time she said it.

Instead you try to say it yourself, try to tell her for the last time, but before you can get even one word out, your eyes roll back and darkness washes over you.

[eien-nx-tsubasa-blog]

⚶------ For once Ja’far’s daydreaming in the midst of work.