#//i blame virginia

[cinnamoneve]

"take me home, country roads" makes me emotional every time i listen to it for a reason i cant fathom

something about loving the place you grew up and the personification of it all makes me so emotional it's just a letter to a lover and the lover is nature's bounty hhhHHHHh ouuu OUGHHH

[an-bee]

if i have to see one more post of an american being mad at canada for the wildfires because some smoke is blowing their way, or somebody making yet another distasteful joke about the wildfires, i’m gonna get physical.

[lilliaace]

I'm going to put this as nicely as possible.

You're fifteen, according to your bio/pinned post. I'm 30. I have been alive literally twice the time you've been alive in this world. You are a baby queer. I don't mean that demeaningly. I mean this as to say this - you don't know smack about the LGBTQ world beyond the walls of the internet, maybe a queer club at your local school (high school if you're in the USA).

The online and club spaces for the LGBTQ world are so incredibly sanitized, period.

No, bi lesbians and their sister labels (pan lesbians, omni lesbians, polysexual lesbians, straightbians, fagdykes, lesboys, asexual lesbians, aromantic lesbians, etc.) ARE NOT putting their lesbian/dyke sisters in danger, period.

Pushing that the idea of "m spec lesbian" is somehow damaging...

victim blaming for ladies attempted to be 'forced converted' by straight men

Xenophobic towards MANY global gender IDs that are specific to certain cultures (2-spirit for indigenous USA tribes, Hijra in India, etc.)

Shifts the blame from the rapist to the victim, regardless of circumstances

Also minimizes the fact that asshole men are going to be asshole men, regardless of whoever they're being a jerk to. A jerk is going to be an asshole, regardless.

The idea of a "m spec lesbian" has been around FOR YEARS. Documented since at LEAST the 1950s.

I strongly recommend reading "Stone Butch Blues" and "The Stonewall Generation" as well as "PoMoSexuals: Challenging Assumptions About Gender and Sexuality"

You might get lucky and find them at your local library. There's a free PDF floating around of Stone Butch Blues. I got Stonewall Generation by going to a LIVE PRIDE event that was local. You should be able to find them on Google Shopping, Amazon, Ebay, and/or Mercari.

Human sexuality is complicated, period. Many women who were exclusively (or almost exclusively) attracted to other women often paired up with men for the sake of affection, protection, and companionship rather than genuine attraction (Elenor Roosevelt and Virginia Woolf are the first two famous people who come to mind). Also, Kristen Stewart recently came out as a bi lesbian in a recent interview.

We exist, period. NO ONE is helping by LGBTQ identity policing. Y'all are only hurting yourself. PLEASE talk to real life queer people face to face, beyond the safety net of social media and school clubs. You will learn so much.

[eggohomestylecunt]

I have nothing but motivation right now to work on this single project and yet I'm being blocked from this path I feel like a shih tzu on meth I'm vibrating at high frequencies!

[super-nova5045]

sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

[castielsprostate]

🚘impala1967 FOLLOW

I truly think people people should just get paid to live a living wage without having to work themselves to death but that's cOnTrOvErsIaL

😈kingofphatass FOLLOW

arent you the guy that fucked his car??

🚘impala1967 FOLLOW

Omg that was litrally MONTHS ago!!!!! Let it go already, jeez!

1,382 notes 🔃 ♡

#why is the king of hell's pornblog on my post anywayy omg shoo #i litrally have a DNI in my bio

💼lawboyatstanford ✅✅ FOLLOW

Passed the bar! 📄🖋️ On my way to become a lawyer 💼👨‍💼 (for real this time)

1 note 🔃♥️

#so proud of myself #education #stanford #stanfordlawyer #officialdegree #someonepayoffmystudentloans

👼thursdayangel 🦀📷FOLLOW

wishing you were here...

👼thursdayangel 🦀📷FOLLOW

talk to me babygirl

🍔dean-identifying-meat-in-posts FOLLOW

a black angus 200 grams grill smashed deluxe, farmed in north west-virginia

8,717 notes 🔃♥️

#identified meat #meat identified 17391 #tw food

🧓jwinchester FOLLOW

dating is hard with your ex wife being resurrected for the third time. i keep running into her on my grindr dates. #awkward

⚔️notvirginmary FOLLOW

Stop blaming me for things I have no control over! That red tie looked ugly on you btw.

💼lawboyatstanford ✅✅ FOLLOW

gross 🤢

54 notes 🔃♥️

#why can't my parents we normalllll #they already fucked up my childhood let me have my adulthood

🧛benwiththefang FOLLOW

a local werewolf pissed on my lawn. AGAIN.

🐺garthster🌓 FOLLOW

Well maybe if you stopped spraying your vamp hormones everywhere, local wws wouldn't feel so threatened! There's kids living here!

🧛benwiththefang FOLLOW

blocked and reported.

5 notes 🔃♡

#can't stand these beasts on my post #dni werewolfs

🧚godchuck👒👒👒👒📝✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅👻💀🌅🌓 FOLLOW

idk i think i need to fuck that man some more...

🧚godchuck👒👒👒👒📝✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅👻💀🌅🌓 FOLLOW

wrong account

85,158 notes 🔃♡

#fuck i keep doing this 😩😩 #@staff fix this issue!!!!!!!

[lumi-waxes-poetic]

re: the Neil Gaiman shit

In light of recent revelations, it is very likely you or someone in your circle is seriously rethinking their relationship to Neil Gaiman's books.

That's perfectly natural. But if I might offer a word of advice (which of course you may do what you like with, I'm not god)?

If his books ever meant something to you growing up, and some part of you, no matter how small, refuses to let them go? That's okay. Don't devalue or burn cherished things just because the Author is a Horrible Person.

God only knows that if that were the requirement, we'd have little left to enjoy in the world.

If you feel the need to have a reckoning with your bookshelf, do not let my words stop you. Keep or discard his books at your own recognizance. Just remember that he is merely the author of these books: he is not the books themselves. If ever his books communicated something Good and True to you, do not feel pressured to throw that Good and True thing away just because the source was less good than you thought it was.

Despite his(overwhelmingly probable) guilt, Neil is ALSO one of the genuinely best writers we've had in DECADES. This will understandably complicate his legacy. As much as we like things to be simple, people are often multiple things simultaneously, and we often will dislike or even hate some of those things.

Was Neil being a hypocrite when he supported feminist and LGBTQIA+ causes while also being a huge... <gestures to all the allegations>? Very definitely. But I don't want to see the genuine strides his support helped make possible fall away just because his hypocrisy was revealed. I don't want to see people ignore or undermine the frankly EXCELLENT MESSAGES in a lot of his books just because the author didn't live up to the standards he wrote about.

This isn't about absolving Neil in the slightest. I hope he gets whatever justice he's due. But don't punish yourself arbitrarily for it. If you have decided that now is the time to move on from his books forever, I don't blame you. If you decide to keep reading his books and they inspire you to be a better person than him, that's just as awesome. Spite that sunnuvabitch with his own works.

It is my hope that people can and will continue to enjoy his stories, and take home from them some excellent messages, long after he faces justice for his actions as a person. He wouldn't be the first author whose works were forgiven long after his personal harms were done; literary history is replete with such individuals -- Lord Byron, Virginia Woolfe, Robert E. Howard, Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Vladimir Nabokov, etc. The list goes on and on for as long as one wishes to peruse it. Their problematic acts as people cannot and should not be ignored, but neither can nor should their works. Perhaps Neil Gaiman is in good company, then, as we add his name to that list. A brilliant author, with brilliant works to his name, but a far less than brilliant man.

Only you can decide how your relationship with the books you have read will work out. You alone have the power to determine what authors you read and whose works shall adorn your bookshelves.

Don't let the crowd tell you what you're allowed to read, but perhaps don't discount the crowd's opinion out of hand on this one either. They do, after all, have a point.

[softestqueeen]

hiii ! im a sucker for the early stages of crushing, so i was wondering if i could request a hotch fic where it's chilly out, and you forget to bring a jacket so hotch offers his suit coat to you and it's just so warm and it smells so good that you end up blurting out how much you like the way he smells and how much you appreciate him. aH idk i hope this made sense 😭 ty!! 🫶

a/n: omg anon, i'm literally OBSESSED with this!! i hope you like it <3 warnings: none, pure fluff, almost 1k words (damn)

Most people would say Nebraska is a lovely place to be. Breathtaking views, mostly nice folks and no 100-degree weather like Quantico, Virginia. But you had to disagree.

The team has been called in for a sensitive case regarding four missing children. So, the team immediately grabbed their go-bags and hopped on the jet.

Now having settled at the police station, you realised – you had forgotten to pack a jacket. The one essential for this kind of weather was currently hanging on a rack in your flat. After you had gotten blood on it at the last case, you cleaned it and hung it up so you could pack it again. Damnit, you thought to yourself, you thought you had packed it. Now you would have to try to stay somewhat warm and not catch hypothermia, while also staying sharp so you could get the children in time. Great.

You prayed that Hotch would group you with Reid, so you could stay at the station and work the geographical profile. But with your luck, of course you were chosen to check out the abduction sites – which were all not just in the middle of nowhere, but also in the open aka the cold – with no one less than the unit chief himself.

After hyping yourself up a bit, you were convinced you could do it. The car ride was nice, the heating making it enjoyable, but the moment you stepped into the cold you knew you couldn’t do it. As much as you tried to keep your teeth from clattering and your whole body from shivering, sometimes you could hear your teeth or see your hands shaking when you took them away from the warm comfort of your body.

You hoped Hotch wouldn’t notice it, but who where you fooling? He probably knew you forgot your jacket before you even noticed.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket, agent? It’s freezing. Did you forget it in the car?” to everybody else it sounded like everything else he said, stoic, emotionless but after working with him for quite some time you could make out the genuine worry in his voice.

Immediately trying to reassure him you said, “Oh, I think I forgot it at the station, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” The moment the lie left your mouth, you both could hear that that wasn’t the truth.

Of course, Aaron had already noticed your missing jacket in the jet while everybody was wrapping themselves in their thickest winter clothing, you obliviously kept reading your book.

He didn’t have to think much before shrugging off his coat and offering it to you, already holding it in the perfect way for you to just slip into it. Ever the gentleman.

“Oh, that’s really nice of you, but that’s not necessary, really,” you hoped that he would blame your reddening cheeks on the cold and not his boyfriend like behaviour. You don’t know why you were this flustered, you were sure he would do the same thing for Emily or even Reid.

“Please take it, you’ve been shivering since we arrived, and I don’t want to lose one of my best agents because of hypothermia. It really is no problem.”

He wiggled the coat a little bit and you were actually too cold to resist the promise of a nice and warm coat. Stepping forward you let your arms slip into the warm fabric before closing one of the buttons in the front.

It was easy to tell that it was way too big, but it was so warm also smelled just like Hotch’s cologne.

“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to, Hotch. I don’t want you to freeze now,” you told him in an almost scolding voice.

“I’ll live. Shall we get back to the scenes, see if there’s anything we’ve missed?” after humming in agreement the two of you fell into your usual rhythm again.

There was one problem – now that the cold wasn’t distracting you, it was his scent that lingered on the coat. And it was not just his cologne but also something that was just undeniably him. Masculine, raw and absolutely to die for.

You knew you couldn’t keep your feelings for the unit chief a secret for long. After confiding to the BAU-girls at a get together in the local bar, the rest seemed to catch on rather quickly too. The only person that was still completely oblivious was Hotchner himself. What would shock you, was that he also had feelings for you, but just genuinely didn’t think that you would like him as a friend or even a romantic partner. And you were also very oblivious to the looks he gave you and how often he smiled around you.

Suddenly his voice brought you back to reality “Is everything all right? Are you still cold? Do you want to go to the station?” Still lost in your own though you answer “Oh no, it’s all right. Your jacket smells nice by the way,” without really realising that you had just said that out loud you add more conscious now, “I think we did what we could here. We should head back to the others.”

Immediately after saying it you turn around and walk back to the car, leaving a baffled and slightly blushing Aaron Hotchner behind. In that moment he was very glad that you didn’t see him.

But now he knew, he definitely had to find a way to tell you how he feels, or else you are going to be the death of him.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBan

[reidmarieprentiss]

Whispers in the Dark

Summary: Derek Morgan's best friend from back home moves to Virginia, Spencer takes a liking to her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), angst

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, JJ is not a good person in this story, a little Hotchniss, reader wears a dress, alcohol consumption

Word count: 14.7k

a/n: i think this is absolutely adorable! i'm so sorry jj is bad in this, having a few plot points felt more fun :/

main masterlist

Additional warnings: fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, penetrative sex, no condom (wrap it before you tap it), nipple play

The break room was buzzing with the familiar hum of the coffee maker as Derek filled three mugs with steaming hot coffee. Emily and Penelope stood nearby, eagerly awaiting their morning caffeine fix. Emily leaned against the counter, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, while Penelope practically bounced on her toes in excitement.

"So, who exactly is this friend of yours?" Emily asked, tilting her head slightly.

Derek chuckled, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Y/N? I guess she just landed early this morning."

Penelope's eyes widened with delight. "Oh, Derek, that is so exciting! I cannot wait to meet her. I just know we are going to be the best of friends already!"

Derek held up a hand, his expression playful yet protective. "Whoa, whoa, whoa now! No one is stealing my best friend, and no one is stealing my baby girl."

Penelope grinned mischievously. "Oh, come on, Derek. You know she's going to love me. I have that effect on people."

Emily sipped her coffee, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "From what I've seen, Y/N is quite the catch. She's gorgeous."

Derek's protective instincts flared up instantly. "Hey, hey! She's like a sister to me, and that's all there is to it."

“Bold of you to assume I was suggesting you might like her,” Emily wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Penelope giggled, poking Derek playfully in the ribs. "Relax, big brother. We're just teasing you. Though, I wouldn't blame any of the people around here for trying to get her attention."

Derek rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. "Y/N is amazing, no doubt about it. But she is a little shy sometimes. Just don't scare her off with all your excitement, okay?"

Penelope placed a hand over her heart, feigning innocence. "Who, me? Scare someone off? Never!"

Emily took another sip of her coffee, her expression turning thoughtful. "So, what's the plan? Are you bringing her by the office?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I thought I'd show her around, introduce her to everyone. She's moving pretty close to me, so you'll be seeing a lot of her."

Penelope clapped her hands together. "This is going to be so much fun! I'm already planning a welcome party in my head."

Derek shook his head, chuckling. "Just remember, she's shy. Take it easy on her, okay?"

Emily smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Derek's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make her feel right at home."

Penelope leaned in closer to Derek, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "So, are you going to help her unpack tonight?"

Derek shook his head. "She actually made a trip earlier to move her stuff into her new townhouse. She's already unpacked and settled. She was just using up the last of her vacation hours from her previous job before moving in today."

Emily's eyes lit up with interest. "She sounds like she's got everything under control."

Derek nodded proudly. "She always does. She's incredibly organized and independent."

Penelope's eyes gleamed with an idea. "Why don't we take her out to the club to celebrate her arrival? It could be a great way for the team to meet her."

Derek hesitated, thinking about Y/N's shy nature. "I don't know, Pen. She's not really the clubbing type."

Penelope waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, come on, Derek. She'll have a blast. It's the perfect way to meet everyone in a low-stakes environment."

Emily nodded in agreement. "Yeah! It could be fun, Derek. And it would give us all a chance to get to know her better. Or we could bring her in for interrogation if you prefer."

Derek sighed, knowing they had a point. "Alright, alright. We'll take her out to the club. But if she starts feeling uncomfortable, we're out of there. Got it?"

Penelope and Emily nodded enthusiastically. "Got it!"

“Got what?” Rossi entered the break room, curiosity piqued by the lively conversation.

"Oh, nothing!" Penelope exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "Just that we convinced Derek to bring his new lady friend to the club tonight!"

Derek huffed, rolling his eyes and glaring at Garcia. "Would you not put it like that? She's my best friend from back home. She just moved here."

"Sounds fun. I'll go," Rossi said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Well, yeah, someone has to pay," Emily snickered, giving Rossi a playful nudge.

Rossi chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Alright, I'm in. It'll be good to meet the woman who managed to keep Morgan in line all these years."

Derek shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Y/N is amazing, but she's not some wild party girl. Just promise me you'll all be on your best behavior."

Emily placed a hand on her heart. "Derek, I solemnly swear that we will make her feel right at home. Right, guys?"

Penelope and Rossi nodded in agreement, their faces equally sincere.

"Okay, okay, nerd," Derek teased and relented. "I'll let her know the plan."

Penelope clapped her hands together, her excitement bubbling over. "This is going to be so much fun! I can't wait!"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "You guys better not scare her off. Let's make sure her first night out is a good one. No green fairies, I’m looking at you, baby girl."

Penelope pouted dramatically. "Spoilsport! I was just going to introduce her to the joys of absinthe."

Emily laughed, patting Penelope's shoulder. "Maybe we should stick to something a bit more tame for her first night, Garcia."

—

Emily made it her personal mission to get Hotch on board with the club—sue her if she wanted to see him let loose a little.

She found him in his office, buried under a stack of case files. Knocking lightly on the doorframe, she stepped inside. "Hey, Aaron. Got a minute?"

Hotch looked up, his expression serious as always but softened slightly when he saw her. "Sure, Emily. What's up?"

She closed the door behind her and took a seat across from him, leaning in slightly. "So, you know Derek’s friend Y/N is moving to town, right?"

Hotch nodded, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. "Yes, Derek mentioned it."

"Well, we're all planning to go out to the club tonight to welcome her. I think it would be great if you joined us," Emily said, her tone persuasive and her gaze steady.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A club? Emily, you know that's not really my scene."

Emily leaned forward slightly more, her eyes locked on his. "Come on, Hotch. It's not about the club. It's about making Y/N feel welcome. Plus, it’s been ages since you let loose and had some fun."

He sighed, considering her words, his gaze drifting momentarily to her lips before he caught himself. "I appreciate the sentiment, Emily, but I've got a lot of work to catch up on."

She gave him a knowing look, her voice dropping to a softer tone. "You always have a lot of work, Aaron. But sometimes you need to take a break and spend time with the team outside of work. Besides, we might need someone responsible to keep an eye on Derek and Penelope."

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head, but his eyes never left hers. "Alright, you’ve got a point. But if I go, I'm not staying out all night."

Emily beamed, feeling the electricity in the air between them. "Deal. I'll make sure you have a good time. Just think of it as a team-building exercise."

Hotch leaned back in his chair, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "Fine. I'll go. But you owe me one, Prentiss."

"Absolutely," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "Thanks, Hotch. Y/N’s going to appreciate it."

As she stood to leave, their eyes locked once more, and the room seemed to shrink around them. "And who knows," Emily added, her voice low and teasing, "you might even enjoy yourself."

Hotch's smile widened ever so slightly, a rare sight. "We'll see about that."

As she left his office, Emily felt a rush of adrenaline. The tension between them was palpable, and she knew that tonight, with the boundaries of the office left behind, anything could happen. The night was shaping up to be more than just a welcome for Y/N; it was an opportunity for something else entirely.

—

Penelope found JJ at Spencer's desk, talking to him while he looked through a stack of files. Spencer was engrossed in his work, his fingers skimming over the pages with practiced ease, but he glanced up occasionally, clearly engaged in their conversation.

"Hey, you two!" Penelope called out, her usual bubbly energy on full display as she approached them. "Got a minute?"

JJ turned to face Penelope, her expression curious. "What's up, Garcia?"

Penelope beamed, her excitement practically radiating off her. "So, Derek’s friend just moved to town, and we’re all planning to go out to the club tonight to welcome them. I think it would be great if you both joined us."

Spencer looked up from his files, adjusting in his seat slightly. "A club? That's... not really my thing, Penelope."

JJ nudged him playfully. "Come on, Spence. It could be fun. Besides, it's not about the club; it's about making Derek’s friend feel welcome."

Spencer hesitated, glancing between the two women. "I suppose it would be nice to meet a friend of Derek’s."

Penelope clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. "Exactly! Plus, it'll be good to see everyone outside of work for a change. We've all been so busy lately."

JJ smiled, a hint of something more lingering in her gaze as she looked at Spencer. "Yeah, it'll be nice to have a night out. We can all use a break."

Spencer nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll go. But don't expect me to dance."

Penelope laughed, patting his shoulder. "No worries, Boy Wonder. Just having you there will be enough."

As Penelope walked away, Spencer turned back to his files, but JJ's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, a small, almost wistful smile on her lips. The prospect of the night out was exciting for more reasons than one, and she found herself looking forward to it more than she should.

—

Y/N stood in front of her closet, the door wide open, revealing a spectrum of clothes ranging from modest to daring. She bit her lip, fingers trailing over the hangers as she contemplated her options. Deep down, she knew she hadn’t gotten rid of her party clothes because she felt good in them, even if she hadn't put them on in half a decade. But Derek lounged on her bed, watching her with a supportive smile, and she strayed to that daring side of her closet.

"I don't even know where to start," Y/N admitted, a touch of frustration in her voice. "I used to love wearing anything skin-tight, sheer, and low-cut, but... Andrew didn't like it when I was on display for other men."

Derek frowned at the mention of Andrew, her recent ex, but quickly masked it with a gentle smile. "Y/N, you're not with Andrew anymore. This is about you. Wear what makes you feel good, not what you think anyone else wants you to wear." He didn’t exactly want to see her pop a tit on the dance floor, but if she found an outfit that she felt good in, he would never tell her otherwise.

She pulled out a sleek, black dress that clung to her curves but had a modest neckline. She held it up, examining it critically. "I don't want to show too much, but I also don't want to feel... boring."

Derek chuckled. "You could never be boring, Y/N. And besides, you should wear something that makes you feel confident and happy. Remember how you used to rock those outfits in your early 20s? That confidence is still in there."

Y/N smiled wistfully, thinking back to her younger self who loved the thrill of dressing up and going out. She pulled out another dress, this one with a sheer overlay and a plunging neckline. "What about this one? Is it too much?"

Derek's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Honestly? It's a little... revealing. But if you feel amazing in it, go for it. Just make sure you're comfortable. That's all that matters to me."

She hesitated, looking between the two dresses. "I want to feel like myself again, Derek. Not the version of me that Andrew wanted."

Derek stood up and walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Then wear what makes you feel like Y/N. Forget about Andrew. This is your night. Be that confident, fun-loving woman you are."

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a sense of determination. "You're right. I should wear something for myself." She put back both dresses.

Y/N went digging in her closet until she found what she was looking for: a dress low enough to show what she wanted without fear of exposing herself. It hugged her body the way she liked without highlighting anything she didn’t, and so what if it was a little on the shorter side? She went to the bathroom to change, coming out and doing a spin for Derek.

Derek wolf-whistled and clapped his hands together once. "There you go. That's the Y/N I know. You're going to look amazing, and you'll feel amazing too."

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "Thanks, Derek. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He pulled her into a quick hug. "That's what best friends are for. Now, let's get some accessories on. You can’t leave the house this bare."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, let's see what I've got." She returned to her closet, pulling out a few pieces of jewelry. "What do you think?"

Derek nodded approvingly. "Perfect."

“Okay, now your turn.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been ready, sweetheart.”

“Derek, I love you, but you look like an idiot.”

Derek was wearing a forward-facing snapback hat, not sitting all the way down on his head, with a too-tight gold chain around his neck and a black button-up. 

“Wow, don’t spare my feelings,” he said with a mock-hurt expression.

“Just put this on. I’ve been thinking about your outfit this whole time too,” Y/N said, handing him a longer chain and a deep maroon V-neck shirt.

Derek raised an eyebrow but took the items from her. He whipped his hat and shirt off, and once the new one was on, Y/N could see the outfit did its intended purpose, showing off every ridge of his chest and abdominal muscles.

“And now you look hot and slutty! Derek, don’t you dare put that hat back on,” Y/N said with a laugh.

—

As the evening approached, JJ took on the role of designated driver, knowing she needed to get back to Henry and Will at a decent time. She picked up Spencer, Penelope, and Rossi, her car filled with excited chatter about the night ahead.

Penelope was the most animated, talking nonstop about the club and how much fun they were going to have. Spencer listened quietly, a small smile playing on his lips, while Rossi chimed in with the occasional witty remark.

They were the first to arrive at the club, the neon lights casting a vibrant glow over the entrance. The music was already thumping inside, creating a palpable energy in the air.

JJ parked the car and they all headed inside. As they found a spot to settle, JJ turned to Spencer. "Hey, I'm not drinking tonight, but could you get me a soda when you go up to get yourself something?"

Spencer nodded. "Sure, JJ. What kind of soda do you want?"

"Just a cola, thanks," she replied with a smile.

Penelope looped her arm through Spencer's. "Alright, Boy Wonder, let's go get those drinks. I need something fruity and fun!"

Rossi chuckled, watching them head towards the bar. "Just make sure you come back, Spencer. Don't let Garcia drag you into any trouble."

Spencer gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

At the bar, Spencer ordered JJ's cola, a fruity cocktail for Penelope, and a simple soda for himself. As they waited for their drinks, Penelope nudged him playfully. "So, Spencer, you ready for a night of fun?"

Spencer smiled, though a bit apprehensively. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Penelope grinned, handing him the drinks. "Good. Because tonight is all about making Y/N feel welcome and showing her a good time." 

“Wait, her? I thought you said it was a friend of Derek’s,” Spencer said, looking slightly confused.

“It is, Reid. Boys and girls can be friends, hun,” Penelope replied with a playful smile.

“I know that, Garcia. But it’s Morgan,” Spencer insisted, his eyebrows knitting together.

Penelope shrugged, her smile turning a bit more thoughtful. “I guess we’ll see what their dynamic is. He seems pretty dead set on seeing her like a sister.”

Spencer nodded slowly, still processing the information. “Yeah, I suppose.”

His mind flashed back to past interactions where his awkwardness had gotten the best of him. The fear of saying something wrong or not knowing how to respond often made him retreat into his shell. Even though he had grown more confident over the years, the nervousness never entirely went away.

Penelope nudged him gently. “Don’t overthink it, Spencer. Just be yourself and have a good time. You’re so loveable and your cheeks are so squeezable, you’ll do great!” She pinched his cheek playfully.

Despite Penelope's playful encouragement, Spencer couldn't shake the nervous flutter in his stomach. He'd always found it challenging to navigate social situations, especially those involving women. His intellect and eidetic memory often set him apart, making him feel awkward and out of place.

“Hey, ow, rude,” Spencer protested, rubbing his cheek with a mock glare.

Penelope laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Just a little encouragement, Pretty Boy. You’ll be fine. Besides, I think Y/N will find you just as charming as the rest of us do.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more reassured. “Thanks, Garcia. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Spence. Now, let’s get back to the table,” Penelope said, giving him a supportive pat on the back as they rejoined the others.

They made their way back to the table, where JJ and Rossi were engaged in a light-hearted conversation. Spencer handed JJ her soda, and she thanked him with a warm smile.

"Thanks, Spence," she said, taking a sip. "This is going to be fun. I'm glad you decided to come."

Spencer nodded, settling into his seat. "Me too. It'll be nice to see everyone outside of work."

Just then, Aaron and Emily walked in together, their presence immediately causing a ripple of silent curiosity. They had grabbed a cab together, which wouldn't have raised eyebrows except for the fact that they didn’t live anywhere near each other.

No one said anything about it, but the thought was clearly on everyone's mind. Penelope's eyes widened slightly, and she exchanged a quick glance with Spencer, who raised an eyebrow. JJ's lips curled into a knowing smile, and Rossi simply shook his head with a bemused expression.

Emily, seemingly unfazed, waved at the group as she and Aaron approached the table. "Hey, guys! Sorry we're late. Traffic was a nightmare."

Aaron nodded in agreement, his usual composed demeanor in place.

Penelope, ever the enthusiastic one, quickly jumped in to keep the mood light. "No worries! We're just glad you could make it. We’re still waiting on Derek and Y/N."

Emily took a seat next to JJ, while Aaron settled in beside Rossi. The unspoken questions hung in the air, but the team was seasoned in reading between the lines. There was a palpable sense of something more between Hotch and Emily, though no one dared to bring it up.

The atmosphere around the table became more relaxed as they chatted and laughed, each member of the team silently noting the unspoken connection between their two colleagues. 

“Alright, I need a drink. Emily, do you want anything?” Hotch asked, standing up and glancing around the table.

JJ looked up, a bit surprised. “Hotch, you’re drinking?”

“Yeah, you never drink,” Spencer chimed in, his eyebrows raised.

“Would you guys leave the man alone?” Rossi interjected, shaking his head with a small smile.

Emily chuckled slightly uncomfortably, nodding at Hotch. “Uh, yeah, thanks. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

Hotch gave her a small smile and headed towards the bar, leaving the rest of the team exchanging curious glances. 

Spencer leaned over to JJ. “Do you think something’s going on?”

JJ shrugged, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Who knows? But whatever it is, I’m glad to see him relaxing a bit.”

Hotch returned to the table with drinks in hand, distributing them to Emily and the others. The group settled into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying each other’s company, their laughter and chatter blending with the club’s energetic ambiance.

After a while, Spencer excused himself to go to the bathroom. He navigated through the crowd and found a line, which took longer than expected. By the time he made it back to the table, he noticed Penelope, Emily, and Rossi animatedly gabbing and pointing at something, their expressions reminiscent of gossiping schoolgirls.

Curiosity piqued, Spencer took his seat and leaned in. “What are you all looking at?”

Penelope, barely containing her excitement, gestured towards the dance floor. “Just look!”

Spencer turned to see Derek on a small stage, completely in his element, dancing with a beautiful woman. Derek's moves were smooth and confident, his body swaying in perfect rhythm with the music. The woman with him was equally captivating, moving with a fluid grace that matched Derek's intensity. The two of them were completely in sync, the chemistry between them palpable.

Spencer’s eyes widened as he watched his usually composed friend get down and dirty on the dance floor. “Wow,” he muttered, unable to hide his surprise.

Emily chuckled, leaning closer to Spencer. “Looks like Derek’s having a good time.”

Rossi nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “That’s an understatement. He’s really letting loose tonight.”

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Isn’t it romantic? Derek and his beautiful dance partner, lost in the moment.”

Emily lightly swatted her arm. “Oh, shush. He told us not to make those jokes. They’re basically family.”

“Wait, that’s Y/N?” Spencer was baffled, his eyes widening in surprise.

Penelope nodded, her grin widening. “Yep, that’s her. The infamous Y/N we’ve heard so much about.”

Spencer shook his head, still processing the scene before him. He couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable. Y/N was so captivating and beautiful, but seeing her and Derek on the dance floor, she didn’t look like just a friend. A pang of something unpleasant twisted in his chest, and he felt upset but also silly for feeling that way.

Everyone around the table seemed to be speculating about the nature of Derek and Y/N's relationship. Spencer cleared his throat, trying to push past his discomfort. “Did you all get to meet her before they went on the floor?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah, we did. Y/N’s great. We took shots with her and Derek before a song she clearly loved started playing, and she said she just needed to dance.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “She’s got such a good, vibrant energy. You’ll love her, Spencer.”

Rossi chuckled. “She’s definitely something. It’ll be hard not to like her.”

JJ, however, stayed quiet, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she commented, “Their relationship is... interesting.”

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the dance floor where Derek and Y/N were still enjoying themselves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of confusion mixed with intrigue. Y/N was unlike anything he’d ever seen, and seeing her with Derek stirred emotions he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

As Derek and Y/N finally made their way back to the table, laughing and slightly breathless, the group fell silent for a moment, taking in the sight of the duo.

“Hey, guys! Did you see us up there?” Derek asked, his arm draped casually around Y/N’s shoulders.

Penelope was the first to speak, her voice filled with warmth. “Derek, you were amazing up there! And Y/N, girl, that was so sexy! Who knew you could move like that!”

Derek grinned. “Hey, what about me, mama?”

Penelope laughed. “Oh, my chocolate thunder, we all knew you could move like that. But, Y/N! You told us she’d be shy!”

Y/N hid her blush in Derek’s shoulder, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“She is, Garcia. She’s just got some liquor in her, don’t you, sweetheart?” Derek said, giving Y/N a gentle squeeze.

Y/N nodded before looking back to the group. Her eyes landed on a new face, and she nudged Derek lightly.

“Ah, pretty boy, this is Y/N, my oldest, longest, best friend.” Derek stated proudly. 

Spencer, feeling a mix of nerves and fascination, blinked up at the flushed, slightly sweaty beauty in front of him. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too, pretty boy,” Y/N giggled, and Spencer blushed like a tomato.

JJ cut in, her tone slightly more serious. “His name is Spencer.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Spencer, not noticing JJ’s tone. “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

Spencer managed a shy smile, still feeling the heat in his cheeks. “I hope it’s been good.”

“Well, I told her about your kiss with Lila Archer, the shot to the knee, and that one time your biggest fan was a serial killer…” Derek teased.

Spencer’s mouth gaped like a fish, mortified. “Derek!”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You didn’t tell me any of that!” She turned to Spencer with a warm smile. “Spencer, he told me you’re smart and pretty, and one of his best friends. I was jealous that I had competition, but I think I’m okay with sharing now.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he managed to laugh along with her. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Derek chuckled, patting Spencer on the back. “See, Pretty Boy? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Penelope chimed in, her eyes twinkling. “Absolutely! Now who wants a green fairy?”

It couldn't be known who shouted "no" first, but everyone did at least once. The chorus of protests rang out, blending into a collective and resounding rejection.

Penelope pouted dramatically. “You guys are no fun!”

Rossi raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to keeping the green fairy far, far away.”

The group laughed at Rossi’s comment, but it made Y/N realize she didn’t have a drink, having only taken shots. Spencer, noticing the same dilemma unfold on her face, offered to get her something. 

Y/N looked at him gratefully but unsure. “I’m not sure what I want yet. I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.”

JJ cut in again, her voice playful. “Spencer doesn’t drink, but—”

Before she could finish, Spencer smiled and said, “Why don’t you come up with me? We can pick something out together.”

Y/N’s face lit up with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Derek gave her a gentle nudge. “Go ahead, Y/N. You’re in good hands with Spencer.”

As Spencer and Y/N made their way to the bar, the rest of the team watched with amused curiosity. Emily leaned over to Penelope, whispering, “This should be interesting.”

At the bar, Spencer turned to Y/N, feeling more at ease now that they were away from the table. “So, do you have any preferences? Something fruity? Strong?”

Y/N thought for a moment, then smiled. “How about something fruity and fun? Surprise me.”

Spencer nodded, signaling the bartender. “Two fruity cocktails, please.”

As they waited for their drinks, Y/N looked at Spencer, her eyes warm. “Thanks for this, Spencer. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this welcomed.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a connection forming. “You’re welcome, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here. Derek’s talked about you a lot, and it’s great to finally meet you.”

Their drinks arrived, vibrant and colorful. Spencer handed one to Y/N, raising his own glass. “To new friends and new beginnings.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her smile genuine. “To new friends and new beginnings.”

As they returned to the table, the group welcomed them back with cheers, and the night continued with even more laughter and bonding. For Spencer, the initial nerves had given way to a sense of excitement and possibility, thanks to Y/N and the help from some liquid courage.

—

The night wore on, and the group became well-lubricated with alcohol. JJ reluctantly decided to head home after confirming that Spencer, Rossi, and Penelope would be able to find their own ways home. They all agreed, not wanting the night to end just yet.

The group moved to a more subdued bar where they could engage in conversation without yelling over the music. The new bar was cozy and intimate, with warm lighting and a quieter ambiance. They settled into a long double-sided booth, perfect for their relaxed conversations.

Aaron and Emily sat against the wall, casually pressed together, their shoulders touching. Penelope was on Emily’s other side, drunk and blissfully unaware of the tension and subtle touches between Aaron and Emily. Across the table, Derek sat against the wall with Y/N in the middle and Spencer next to her.

The cozy setting allowed for a more intimate atmosphere. Derek and Y/N were laughing and chatting about old memories, their camaraderie evident. Spencer, still a bit nervous but more comfortable now, found himself drawn into the conversation.

“So, Y/N,” Spencer began, his curiosity piqued. “What made you decide to move here?”

Y/N smiled warmly, glancing between Spencer and Derek. “Well, aside from Derek being here, I got a great job offer. It was the perfect opportunity for a fresh start.”

Derek grinned, nudging her playfully. “And I promised her we’d make sure she never regretted the move.”

Spencer nodded, feeling more at ease. “It’s good to have you here. Derek’s always talked about you, and it’s clear you two have a special bond.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at Derek. “We’ve been through a lot together. He’s like the brother I never had.”

Across the table, Aaron and Emily were engaged in their own quiet conversation, their heads close together. Penelope, despite her drunken state, was happily chatting with Rossi about their latest case, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

The intimate setting of the bar allowed the group to relax and enjoy each other’s company without the noise and chaos of the club. Until, of course, ever the trouble starter, Penelope suggested they play a game.

"Alright, everyone!" Penelope announced, her voice carrying a mischievous edge. "How about we play a game? Truth or drink!"

The group exchanged reluctant and curious glances. Derek raised an eyebrow. "Truth or drink? How old are we?"

Y/N nudged Derek and with a friendly smile asked, “What are the rules?”

Penelope grinned, leaning forward. "Simple! You either answer the question truthfully, or you take a drink. No lying, no skipping, and no half-truths."

Emily chuckled, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, Penelope. Who goes first?"

Penelope pointed a wobbly finger at Spencer. "Pretty Boy, you start. Truth or drink?"

Spencer, slightly apprehensive and very nervous because of his awkwardness in social situations and the fear of exposing something embarrassing to Y/N, nodded. "Alright, truth."

Luckily, Spencer and Y/N had switched to water for this drink, so at least he wasn’t drinking alcohol. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever Penelope might ask.

Penelope's grin widened. "What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you in front of a girl?"

Spencer blushed, glancing around the table. "Well, there was this one time in high school when I accidentally spilled my entire lunch tray on a girl I had a crush on. She was not amused."

Everyone laughed, the tension easing with Spencer's confession. He glanced at Derek, then grinned. "Alright, Derek, truth or drink?"

Derek smirked. "Truth."

Spencer leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's the most ridiculous thing you've done to impress someone?"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, I once pretended to be an expert salsa dancer to impress a girl at a party. I had no idea what I was doing and ended up stepping on her feet multiple times. She never talked to me again."

The group erupted in laughter, with Penelope practically in tears. Derek pointed at Emily next. "Your turn, Em. Truth or drink?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, considering. "Truth."

Derek grinned. "What's the most scandalous secret you're willing to share with us?"

Emily thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, here it goes. I once crashed a high-profile wedding just for the free champagne and food. I even gave a toast, and no one knew I wasn’t invited."

Everyone laughed and looked at Emily with newfound respect. She turned to Rossi. "Alright, Rossi, truth or drink?"

Rossi smirked, taking a sip of his drink before answering. "Truth."

Emily leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What’s the craziest thing you've done on a case that no one else knows about?"

Rossi chuckled. "There was this one time in Vegas. I ended up in an Elvis impersonator contest. I didn’t win, but I got second place and a pretty good story out of it."

The group laughed heartily, imagining Rossi as Elvis. He then turned his attention to Penelope. "Garcia, truth or drink?"

Penelope grinned, eyes twinkling. "Truth."

Rossi smiled. "What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve hacked into, and why?"

Penelope leaned back, thinking. "Okay, this one’s a bit crazy. I once hacked into the Pentagon’s system just to see if I could. Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything. It was purely for the challenge."

The group exchanged wide-eyed glances, impressed and amused. Penelope turned to Y/N, her smile playful. "Alright, Y/N, truth or drink?"

Y/N considered for a moment. "Truth."

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in front of a crush?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "During a test in high school, my teacher thought I was trying to look at my crush's test to cheat, but really I was just trying to smell his cologne..."

The group erupted in laughter, the mental image of a young Y/N being caught in such a situation too funny to resist.

“Oh, that’s priceless!” Penelope giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. “Did you get in trouble?”

Y/N nodded, still laughing. “Yeah, I got detention. And my crush thought I was a weirdo for the rest of the year.”

Derek wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, grinning. “Well, I’m sure he missed out on getting to know an amazing person.”

The group laughed, and Y/N turned to Aaron. "Alright, Hotch, truth or drink?"

Aaron, with a rare relaxed smile, chose truth. "Hmm, truth."

Y/N grinned. "What’s the most spontaneous thing you've ever done?"

Aaron paused, his gaze drifting to Emily briefly before he answered. "I once decided on a whim to take a weekend trip to Paris. Bought the ticket the night before and just went."

The group exchanged impressed looks, and Emily nudged him playfully. "Paris, huh? I didn't know you had it in you, Hotch."

He smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "It was a long time ago."

Aaron looked around the table and then settled on Penelope. “Alright, Garcia, truth or drink?”

Penelope, still bubbling with excitement, chose truth. “Truth.”

Aaron’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What’s the biggest secret you’re keeping from us right now?”

Penelope's eyes widened, but she quickly recovered, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Well, I’m actually planning a surprise party for Reid’s upcoming birthday.”

Spencer looked surprised and touched. “Really?”

Penelope nodded. “Really. And now you all know, so keep it a secret!”

Everyone chuckled, the playful atmosphere growing even more relaxed. Derek leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked at Emily. “Alright, Em, truth or drink?”

Emily smirked, sensing the challenge in Derek’s eyes. “Truth.”

Derek’s grin widened. “What’s the most scandalous thing you’ve ever done that you haven’t told anyone here?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she thought for a moment. “Alright, once during an undercover operation, I had to seduce a suspect to get information. It got a little... heated.”

The group’s reactions ranged from raised eyebrows to playful whistles. Penelope fanned herself dramatically. “Emily, you vixen!”

Emily laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Your turn, Penelope. Truth or drink?”

Penelope tilted her head, considering. “Truth.”

Emily’s smile turned sly. “What’s the wildest place you’ve ever had a romantic encounter?”

Penelope’s eyes widened, but she quickly recovered, grinning. “Okay, it was in the server room at Quantico. During a late night shift. I was young and in love.”

Laughter erupted again, and Rossi shook his head in amusement. “Garcia, you never cease to surprise.”

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that,” Aaron teased and lectured.

Penelope turned her attention to Spencer, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Alright, Reid. Truth or drink?”

Spencer, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, nodded. “Truth.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “What’s the most surprising thing about you that most people don’t know?”

Spencer thought for a moment, then smiled. “I actually love cooking. It’s a great way to relax and get creative.”

Y/N’s eyes widened with interest. “Really? I’d love to try something you’ve cooked sometime.”

Spencer’s smile widened, feeling a surge of confidence. “I’d love that. Maybe we can have a cooking night.”

Emily, sensing that the was game shifting, turned to Aaron, her smile teasing. “Alright, Hotch. Truth or drink?”

Aaron met her gaze, his expression intrigued. “Truth.”

Emily leaned in, her voice low and challenging. “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone?”

Aaron’s smile softened, his eyes holding Emily’s. “I once arranged a candlelit dinner on the rooftop of a building overlooking the city. Just the two of us, under the stars.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed, and she found herself drawn into his gaze. “That sounds amazing, Aaron.”

Aaron smiled back, the tension between them palpable. “It was.”

Emily turned to Derek, her voice still carrying that playful edge. “Alright, Derek. Truth or drink?”

Derek smirked. “Truth.”

Emily leaned in, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “A romantic getaway on a secluded beach, just me and... someone special.”

The group continued to laugh and tease each other, the game drawing them closer. Spencer took the opportunity to ask Y/N another question, feeling more confident with each passing moment.

“Y/N, truth or drink?” Spencer asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

Y/N smiled, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “Truth.”

Spencer’s voice was soft but filled with curiosity. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The team whooped, and they were all very impressed with Spencer's forwardness. Who knew alcohol gave the boy wonder so much confidence?

Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly, but she kept her gaze on Spencer. “No, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

The whooping and teasing continued, with Penelope playfully fanning herself. “Look at you, Spencer! Bold and direct!”

Derek chuckled, raising his glass. “I’m impressed, Pretty Boy. You’ve got guts.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a mixture of pride and relief. “Thanks, guys.”

Y/N leaned closer to Spencer, her eyes twinkling. “Your turn, Spencer. Truth or drink?”

Spencer, feeling emboldened by the supportive atmosphere, chose truth. “Truth.”

With the eyes and ears of everyone still on them, Y/N asked, “Do you want to share a cab home?”

The team collectively held their breath, waiting for Spencer’s response. His cheeks flushed, but he maintained eye contact with Y/N, his heart racing. “I’d like that.”

The group erupted in cheers and teasing, clearly impressed with the turn of events. Penelope clapped her hands together. “Look at our boy, all grown up and making moves!”

Emily leaned into Aaron, whispering, “I didn’t expect that, but I’m loving it.”

Aaron nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s good to see Spencer coming out of his shell.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Great. It’s a date, then.”

Spencer’s smile mirrored hers, feeling nervous but excited. He then glanced at Derek, feeling the man’s gaze on him.

“Reid, I think you know better than to need for me to give you the shovel talk. But so help me God,” Derek said, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

“Yup. No worries. Ha. Got it,” Spencer replied, a nervous laugh escaping him.

Derek nodded, his expression softening. “Good. Just get her home safe.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of Derek's words. “I will.”

Y/N smiled reassuringly at Derek. “It’s okay, Derek. Better an FBI agent than anyone else, right?”

“You’re right,” Derek resigned with a small smile.

Soon after, everyone was losing their steam, piling into cabs together, leaving Spencer waiting outside for Y/N, who needed to use the bathroom. When she came out, they stood together waiting to hail a cab for themselves. Spencer noticed Y/N shiver and, ever the gentleman, he offered her his suit jacket. As he draped it over her shoulders, he also ran his hands up and down her upper arms to generate warmth.

“I think you’re the sweetest man ever, Spencer,” Y/N said, looking up at him.

“And I think you’re intoxicated, Y/N,” Spencer replied with a gentle smile.

“So are you,” she challenged playfully.

“I am,” he admitted.

“But you’re still sweet.”

“I’m not that sweet,” Spencer said with some self-doubt creeping in.

“Let me taste you then.”

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

Y/N leaned up and kissed Spencer, one hand tangling in the hair at the back of his neck and the other sliding under his shirt to caress his tummy. Spencer’s initial shock melted away as he responded to the kiss, his hands gently holding her close.

The kiss was warm and tender, filled with the promise of something new. When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their faces flushed.

Spencer looked into Y/N’s eyes, a mixture of amazement and happiness in his gaze. “Wow.”

Y/N smiled, licking her lips, her fingers still resting against his skin. “See? Sweet.”

Spencer chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to be dangerous, aren’t you?”

“Not if you give me everything I want.”

“I’m a little scared to ask what that is.”

Saved by the bell, a cab pulled up next to them. Y/N grabbed Spencer's hand and pulled him into the backseat. The cab driver asked, “One stop or two?” and before Spencer could speak, she gave the cab driver her address and said, “One stop.”

Spencer was so nervous, thinking about how wrong this was—they were both intoxicated—but Y/N just rested his hand on her thigh and her head on his shoulder. Feeling her warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand, he decided to go with the flow, his worries easing as the cab drove through the city streets.

As they sat in the backseat, Spencer found himself relaxing into the moment. The quiet hum of the cab and the city lights flashing by created an almost surreal atmosphere. He glanced down at Y/N, who looked up at him with a soft, content smile. Her presence was intoxicating in its own right, and he felt a sense of calm and excitement mingling together.

When they arrived at Y/N's place, she led Spencer up to her townhouse. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. She turned to him, her eyes filled with a mixture of playfulness and sincerity.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Y/N asked softly, her hand still holding his.

Spencer nodded, his heart racing but his mind surprisingly clear. “Yes, I’d like that.”

They entered her townhouse, and she closed the door behind them. The night was quiet and still, the tension between them palpable. Y/N took his hand and led him to the living room, where they sat on the couch, facing each other.

“Thank you for helping me home, Spencer,” Y/N said, her voice tender.

Spencer smiled, his nerves settling as he looked into her eyes. “I don’t think you needed any help, but I’m glad I got to spend more time with you.”

She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise, hinting at something deeper, something more.

When they pulled back, Y/N rested her forehead against his. “Stay with me tonight?”

Spencer nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “I’d love to.”

Y/N led Spencer to her bedroom. In her still-intoxicated state, although she had sobered up some, the comfortability with Spencer was palpable. She stripped down to her underwear and threw on a t-shirt, Spencer very quickly averting his eyes.

She giggled, handing him some sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. “Here, you can wear these.”

Seeing Y/N so comfortable, Spencer also shucked his clothes off down to his briefs, all the while Y/N quietly cheering teasingly from the bed. Spencer felt a mix of giddiness and nervous excitement. He went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, trying to clear his head and calm his racing heart.

By the time he made it back to the bedroom, Y/N was heavily passed out, her breathing deep and steady. Spencer smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her. He carefully climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over both of them. He lay there for a moment, watching her sleep, feeling the warmth of her presence beside him.

With a contented sigh, Spencer turned off the bedside lamp and settled into the pillow. The events of the night played through his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder at how things had unfolded. As sleep began to take over, he felt Y/N shift slightly, her hand unconsciously finding his and holding on.

Spencer smiled in the darkness, feeling a deep sense of contentment and peace. 

—

The first thing Y/N noticed when she woke up was how warm she was—too warm. She went to throw off the covers before realizing that there was an entire other human beneath her head. Spencer. At some point in the night, her hand had found its way under his shirt to rest on his tummy. She was too afraid to move, not wanting to wake him and face reality. 

Y/N didn't black out; she knew they just went to sleep. But she also remembered asking him to take her home in front of everyone, kissing him, inviting him in, and asking him to spend the night—things Y/N typically did not do. 

As she lay there, her mind raced. She hadn't felt this comfortable or confident in a long time, not since before Andrew. Last night had been a glimpse into who she used to be and who she could be. 

Spencer stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked down at her, a sleepy smile forming on his lips. "Good morning."

Y/N blushed, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "Morning." She mumbled.

Spencer gently moved his hand to cover hers on his stomach, his touch comforting. "Are you okay?"

Y/N nodded, her voice soft. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... processing."

Spencer's smile remained gentle and understanding. "Last night was... unexpected, but nice."

She smiled back, feeling a surge of affection for him. "It was. I don't usually... I mean, I'm not usually that bold."

“Do… do you regret it?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

“No, no I don’t. Do you?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” they both said, wearing dopey smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked.

“No.”

“Oh.” Spencer felt a pang of rejection.

“No, sorry, I just, we haven’t brushed our teeth.”

Spencer laughed, relief flooding his features. “Correct you are. Is that something we can fix?”

Y/N shyly led Spencer to her bathroom, grateful everything was so clean due to her just moving in, and handed him a spare toothbrush. They stood side by side at the sink, making cute faces in the mirror, shyly blushing and enjoying each other's company.

As they brushed their teeth, they exchanged playful glances and giggles. The simplicity of the moment made it all the more special. When they finished, Y/N turned to Spencer, her cheeks still pink from their shared embarrassment.

“Better?” he asked, his smile bright.

“Much better,” Y/N replied, her eyes warm. 

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. “Okay, now you can kiss me.”

Spencer leaned in slowly, their faces inches apart. He hesitated for just a moment, taking in the way her eyes sparkled in the morning light. Then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and sweet, filled with the promise of something new. As they pulled away, both of them were smiling, the connection between them growing stronger.

Y/N rested her forehead against Spencer's, her heart racing. “I’m really glad you stayed.”

“Me too,” Spencer whispered, his hand gently caressing her cheek.

Y/N and Spencer walked to the kitchen to put on the coffee and find something for breakfast. Y/N was deep in her cupboards, searching for where she had put her spatulas for the eggs.

“Can you get that, Spencer?” she asked when someone knocked on the door. “I don’t want to forget where I already looked.”

“Sure,” Spencer replied, heading to the door.

Spencer felt his face heat up. “Uh, morning, Derek. I... um...”

“Reid, I told you to get her home. I didn’t say you needed to stay.”

“I—I know, she, um, she asked, and I—”

“You what?”

Y/N, sensing the silence, called from the kitchen. “Who is it, Spencer?”

“It’s Derek,” Spencer called back, his voice slightly strained.

Derek stepped inside, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, you decent?”

Y/N popped her head out of the kitchen, her expression surprised. “Derek! Oh my god, shut up,” she mumbled, realizing what he said. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Just checking in on you,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Wanted to make sure you were feeling okay after last night. Looks like you had company.”

Y/N blushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, Spencer stayed over. We, um, I was just about to make breakfast. Want to join?”

Derek chuckled, his gaze flicking between Y/N and a visibly uncomfortable Spencer. “Sure, why not. I’d love to.”

As Derek made his way to the kitchen, Spencer closed the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. This was not how he had expected the morning to go.

In the kitchen, Y/N found the spatulas and set them on the counter. “Coffee’s almost ready. Spencer, can you get some more mugs?”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer said, moving to the cupboard.

Derek leaned against the counter, watching them with a knowing smile. “So, Pretty Boy, how was your night?”

Spencer fumbled with the mugs, his cheeks burning. “It was... nice. We just... talked and then slept.”

“Is that so?” Derek said, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

Y/N shot Derek a look, a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Derek, don’t tease him.”

Derek held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

“So, Reid… how comfy is her bed?”

“Oh, it’s actually really nice,” Spencer replied honestly.

“I knew it!” Derek laughed, and Y/N hid her face in her hands.

Y/N peeked through her fingers, her face flushed. “Derek, stop. You’re embarrassing us.”

Derek laughed heartily, the sound filling the kitchen. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

As they settled into making breakfast together, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by the easy camaraderie of friends. Despite the unexpected visit, the morning turned out to be filled with laughter and warmth, a continuation of the night before. 

After breakfast, the three of them sat around the table, finishing their coffee. The conversation was light and easy, but eventually, Derek glanced at his watch and then at Spencer.

“Hey, Reid, I can give you a ride home if you want,” Derek offered casually.

Spencer hesitated, not wanting to leave Y/N’s company just yet, but he knew it would be rude to refuse. “Uh, sure, thanks, Derek.”

Y/N gave Spencer a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you later, Spencer.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and resignation. “Yeah, see you later.”

As they walked out to Derek’s car, Spencer took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable grilling. Once they were on the road, Derek wasted no time.

“So, Reid,” Derek began, his tone deceptively casual, “what exactly happened last night?”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his seat. “We went back to her place and then went to sleep. That’s it.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, glancing at Spencer. “Just slept, huh?”

Spencer nodded, feeling the need to defend himself. “Yes, Derek. That’s all we did. She was feeling comfortable and wanted me to stay, so I did.”

Derek’s expression softened slightly, but he wasn’t done yet. “Look, man, I know Y/N is an adult, and so are you. But that’s my girl. Just... be careful, okay?”

Spencer nodded earnestly. “I will, Derek. I promise. She’s… special.”

Derek sighed, his protective instincts still on high alert. “Alright, Pretty Boy. I trust you. Just remember, don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” Spencer said, his voice firm.

Derek gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as they pulled up to Spencer’s place. “Good. Now get some rest, and I’ll see you at work.”

Spencer got out of the car, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. “Thanks for the ride, Derek. See you later.”

As he walked to his door, Spencer couldn’t help but think about the night before and the possibilities that lay ahead with Y/N. Despite the grilling, he felt a sense of clarity and purpose. He knew he wanted to see Y/N again, and he was determined to take her on a proper date.

—

A week passed, and Y/N didn’t hear from Spencer. She kept busy with her new job and fully settling in, but she thought he might have asked Derek for her number or showed up at her door. But nothing.

Sunday evening, Derek and Y/N went to see a movie. As they walked home after, Y/N tried to get Derek to bring up Spencer without having to ask directly.

“So, how’s the team been this week?” Y/N asked casually, glancing at Derek.

Derek shrugged. “Same old, same old. Cases, paperwork, the usual.”

“Any interesting cases?” Y/N prodded, hoping to steer the conversation toward Spencer.

Derek chuckled. “Trying to get insider info now, huh?”

Y/N laughed, playfully nudging him. “Maybe a little. I’m just curious how everyone’s doing.”

“Everyone’s fine,” Derek said, then paused, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re really asking about Reid, aren’t you?”

Y/N blushed, caught off guard by Derek’s directness. “Well, yeah. I mean, I haven’t heard from him all week. I thought...”

Derek sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Pretty Boy’s been keeping to himself. He’s been swamped with work, but I think he’s also overthinking things, as usual.”

Y/N looked down, feeling a bit disappointed. “Oh. I see.”

Derek stopped walking and turned to face her. “Look, Y/N, Spencer likes you. But he’s got this thing where he second-guesses himself. He probably thinks he’s messed up somehow.”

Y/N’s eyes softened. “I thought we clicked, or something. I wish he’d just talk to me. I don’t bite.”

Derek grinned. “I know. You just need to be patient with him. He’ll come around.”

They continued their walk, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. However, Y/N’s thoughts lingered on Spencer. She hoped Derek was right and that Spencer would find the courage to reach out.

—

Monday morning, Spencer was sitting at his desk, engrossed in a case file, when Derek approached with a mischievous grin. Without warning, Derek smacked a sticky note on Spencer's forehead.

“Call her, dumbass,” Derek said, chuckling as he walked away.

Spencer blinked in surprise, reaching up to peel the note off his forehead. He read it and felt a mixture of embarrassment and determination. He glanced around to make sure no one else had noticed, then pulled out his phone. He entered Y/N’s number for safekeeping, deciding he’d call later.

“I saw that, Reid. You better call her, or I won’t hesitate to whoop your pretty boy ass,” Derek said, his tone half-serious.

Spencer shrunk in on himself before giving Derek an affectionate middle finger. He then stood up and walked into an empty office, dialing the number.

“Hello…?”

“Hi! Um, Y/N? It’s Spencer. Uh, Derek, he kind of hit me with a sticky note that had your number on it.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted your number! I want to take you on a date if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, yes, uh, yeah, Spencer, I’d love that. I thought when I hadn’t heard from you that you’d changed your mind.”

“No, no. I’m sorry, at first I didn’t want to seem too eager, and then I started to think too much and then I was hit,” Spencer explained, his voice tinged with a mix of apology and humor.

Y/N laughed softly. “Well, I’m sorry you got hit… but I’m also glad Derek gave you that push. When would you like to go out?”

“How about Thursday evening? I know a nice Italian restaurant,” Spencer suggested, feeling more confident.

“That sounds perfect. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Great. I’m looking forward to it, Spencer.”

“Me too, Y/N. See you then.”

After hanging up, Spencer felt a wave of relief and excitement. He stepped out of the office and saw Derek watching him from across the bullpen, giving him a thumbs up. Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer said, feeling grateful for his friend’s push.

Derek grinned. “Anytime, Pretty Boy. Now get back to work. You’ve got a date to prepare for.”

Spencer nodded, turning back to his case file, his mind buzzing with anticipation for Thursday. He was determined to make it a night to remember for both him and Y/N.

—

It was Thursday evening, and Spencer stood nervously outside Y/N’s door, holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers. He took a deep breath and knocked, his heart racing with anticipation.

A moment later, Y/N opened the door, her eyes lighting up as she saw the bouquet. “How did you know?”

Spencer smiled, a bit sheepishly. “Derek.”

Y/N chuckled. “Of course. Thank you, Spencer, they’re beautiful.”

Spencer handed her the flowers, his smile growing. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Come in for a moment while I put these in water,” Y/N said, stepping aside to let him in.

Spencer entered, feeling the warmth of her home. As Y/N arranged the flowers in a vase, he admired how comfortable and inviting her space was. Once Spencer looked at Y/N, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked absolutely stunning. She was in another dress that fit her perfectly, accentuating every asset flawlessly. Spencer swiped at his mouth, afraid he was drooling.

Y/N turned around and noticed Spencer’s intense stare. “Is everything okay? Is there something on my dress?”

In her self-conscious attempts to brush anything off her dress, Y/N managed to make the dress frame her breasts even better, causing Spencer’s brain to shut off. He hadn’t been this unable to control his desire since he lost his virginity.

“Spencer? Hey, you’re scaring me.”

Spencer didn’t say anything. He walked quickly toward Y/N, grabbing her face in his big hands, engulfing almost her whole head, and kissed her. Y/N was caught completely off guard, but after a moment of surprise, she melted into the kiss, responding with equal passion.

The kiss was intense and filled with the unspoken tension that had been building between them. Spencer’s hands moved from her face to her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their eyes locked in a heated gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer whispered, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Spencer’s heart raced, and he leaned in to kiss her again, this time slower and more tenderly. He slowly slid his hands down to her ass, pulling her body against his. Now with full contact, Spencer was able to grind his growing erection against Y/N’s lower stomach. The noise he let out was deep and guttural; it had been a long time since he’d had any intimate contact with someone other than himself.

“Spencer… mmm,” Y/N moaned softly, her breath hitching at the intensity of his touch. “Spencer, the restaurant…”

“Forget about it,” Spencer murmured, his lips moving against hers.

Y/N was torn between the logical part of her that knew they had plans and the overwhelming desire she felt in Spencer’s arms. The heat between them was undeniable, and the way he held her made her feel wanted and cherished in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Spencer’s lips captured hers again, and they moved together, stumbling toward the bedroom. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, exploring and savoring every touch. The anticipation built with each step, making their hearts race even faster.

Spencer smiled, and with that, they let go of any remaining hesitations. They fell onto the bed together, their kisses growing deeper and more urgent. Spencer pulled back slightly to pull Y/N’s dress over her head, revealing her bare chest.

“Fuck, you are so goddamn gorgeous,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire.

“Spencer, please,” Y/N moaned, her voice tinged with need.

“Oh baby, I got you,” Spencer replied, his voice husky with passion.

Spencer dove down and attached his mouth to Y/N’s nipple, biting, sucking, and licking. Y/N's moans filled the room, her body arching toward him as he continued his ministrations. His hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her skin, committing each sensation to memory.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Spencer's hair, pulling him closer as she reveled in the pleasure he was giving her. She could feel the intensity of his desire, matched only by her own. Spencer's mouth moved from one nipple to the other, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving Y/N wild with need. What made her thrust her hips up in desperation was when Spencer looked up at her with her breast in his mouth, smiling with her nipple between his teeth and tugging gently. Y/N thought she was going to orgasm right then and there.

“Spencer! Oh fuck! Please, please, do something, I need you to do something,” she pleaded, her voice filled with urgency.

Spencer's hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly as he continued to lavish attention on her chest. He could feel her body responding to his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Slowly, he moved his hand down to her panties, lightly tracing his pointer finger down the seam, making her whine desperately and wiggle for more.

"Patience, Y/N," Spencer murmured against her skin, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N's hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction. "Please, Spencer, I need you."

Spencer's smile widened as he hooked his finger under the fabric of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs. His fingers teased her folds, brushing lightly against her clit, making her moan and writhe beneath him.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

He continued his slow, deliberate exploration, his fingers finally applying pressure to her clit. He rubbed gentle, teasing circles, making Y/N gasp and clutch the sheets. Her hips moved in rhythm with his touch, her body aching for more.

"Spencer, please," she begged, her voice trembling with need.

“God I love it when you beg for me, you’re so sexy,” Spencer breathed out, biting gently now on Y/N’s throat.

Spencer slipped a finger inside her, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure from Y/N. He moved his finger slowly at first, then added another, his movements precise and controlled. Y/N's moans grew louder, her body arching off the bed as she chased her release. He curled his fingers up, feeling the wetness grow and splash out around his fingers.

Y/N was writhing in pleasure, the feeling of Spencer’s long, slender fingers pushing into her over and over was beginning to be too much. So much she felt herself drawing near a release, her core clenching tightly around Spencer’s fingers.

"You're doing so well," Spencer murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N could feel the tension building, her entire body tightening as she neared the edge. "Spencer, I'm so close..."

Spencer increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb finding her clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, rubbing quickly. "Let go, Y/N," he urged softly. "I've got you."

With a final, desperate cry, Y/N's body convulsed as she came around his fingers, waves of pleasure washing over her. Spencer held her through it, his fingers never stopping their gentle caress until she finally came down from her high, trembling and spent.

Spencer kissed her softly, his lips gentle against hers. "You okay?" he asked, his voice full of tenderness.

Y/N nodded, her breath still coming in short gasps. "Thank you."

Spencer laughed, his eyes filled with affection. "Did you just thank me?"

“Uh huh,” Y/N replied, dazed and satiated, her eyes half-closed with contentment.

Spencer chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I could make you feel good.”

“Where… where did you learn how to do that?” Y/N asked, curiosity and surprise in her voice.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Did you think I was a virgin?”

Y/N hesitated, a sheepish smile on her face. “No… maybe.”

Spencer laughed softly. “Well, thanks for that. I’m not a virgin. But… to answer your question… I read a lot of Doctor Who fanfiction.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and then she burst into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

Spencer shook his head, grinning. “Nope. It’s amazing what you can learn from well-written fanfiction.”

Y/N shook her head in amused disbelief. “Well, I’m impressed. And grateful for all those fanfic authors out there.”

Spencer’s grin widened. “Me too.”

They shared a quiet moment of laughter, the lightness of the conversation adding to the intimacy they felt. Y/N reached out, taking Spencer’s hand in hers. “Thank you for being so… you.”

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. “And thank you for accepting me as I am.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Do you want to show me what else you learned?”

“Fuck yeah,” Spencer replied, his voice filled with eager anticipation.

He moved to kneel between her thighs, but Y/N stopped him. He looked up at her, curious.

“Can you take your shirt off? Please?” she asked softly.

Spencer had a smug smile as he took his shirt off, revealing his lean, toned torso. He then resumed his position between Y/N’s thighs. He breathed out on her core, making her squirm and laugh quietly before licking through her soaked folds. Spencer groaned at the taste, loving everything Y/N had to offer.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his hair as she felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue against her clit. Spencer took his time, savoring every moment, using everything he had learned to bring her pleasure. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, alternating between gentle licks and firmer presses.

As Y/N’s moans grew louder, Spencer’s confidence soared. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations. Her body responded eagerly, arching and trembling beneath his touch.

“Spencer… oh god, that feels so good,” Y/N gasped, her voice breaking with pleasure.

Spencer smiled against her center, increasing the intensity of his efforts. He used his fingers to part her lips, giving him better access, and began to focus on her most sensitive spot with his tongue. Y/N’s moans turned into cries of ecstasy, her grip on his hair tightening. Spencer groaned deeply at the feeling of having his hair pulled, in turn Y/N thrashed as Spencer’s groan vibrated through her. He tightened his grip on her thighs, keeping her secured to his mouth.

“Please, Spencer… don’t stop,” she begged, her voice barely a whisper.

Spencer had no intention of stopping. He continued to lick, suck, and tease, driving her closer and closer to the edge. He entered two fingers once again, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot in Y/N’s core. When he sensed she was about to reach her peak, he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending her over the edge with a powerful, shuddering release.

Y/N cried out, her body convulsing with pleasure as she comes around Spencer's fingers and tongue. He held her through it, his mouth never leaving her until she finally collapsed back onto the bed, panting and spent. 

Spencer’s head pops up from between her legs, chin shining in the moonlight. “How was that?”

Y/N looked down at him, her eyes still dazed with pleasure. “That was... intense. You’re amazing, Spencer.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss her gently. “So are you, Y/N.”

“Oh my god! Did you just kiss me? Is that what I taste like? I’ve never tasted myself before,” Y/N exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N. Did that make you uncomfortable?” Spencer asked, concern flashing across his face.

“No, I was just surprised is all,” she reassured him, still processing the new experience.

“Well, I think you taste delicious. In fact, we can go for another round if you need me to prove it to you,” Spencer teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Ahhh,” Y/N covered her face with her hands, embarrassed but pleased. “No, I need a breather.”

Spencer chuckled softly, pulling her hands away from her face and kissing her forehead. “Take all the time you need. I’m just happy being here with you.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection. “I’m happy you’re here too, Spencer.”

Spencer cuddled up to Y/N, and she felt his bulge against her side. She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Oh, um, do you need some help with that?” she asked softly.

“What? Oh no, you don’t need to do anything,” Spencer replied, his voice a bit strained.

“I want to,” Y/N insisted, her eyes meeting his.

Spencer's eyes softened, and he nodded. “Okay, then yeah, baby, you can touch me.”

“Okay,” Y/N breathed out slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

“Have you been with anyone before?” Spencer asked gently.

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that right now,” Y/N replied, her voice firm yet kind.

“Of course,” Spencer said, respecting her boundaries.

“Just, kiss me. Please.”

“With pleasure,” Spencer whispered, leaning in to capture her lips.

Y/N reached down into his pants and grabbed Spencer’s cock, feeling its smooth, heavy weight in her palm. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, already beginning to pant against her mouth. The sensation of her touch sent shivers down his spine, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with renewed fervor.

As Y/N stroked him, Spencer’s breathing grew more ragged, his body responding eagerly to her touch. He moaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Y/N’s grip tightened each time she got close to the head, which made Spencer blurt precome continuously. 

“Y/N… you’re driving me crazy,” Spencer managed to say between breaths.

She smiled against his lips, feeling a surge of confidence and desire. “I want to make you feel good, Spencer.”

“You already are,” he panted, his eyes dark with need.

Y/N’s movements became more deliberate, her hand sliding up and down his cock with an easier slide due to the pre cum he was producing, eliciting deep, guttural moans from him. Spencer’s body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

“Y/N… I’m so close,” he warned, his voice trembling.

Y/N took her hand away quickly, not wanting it to be over. “What? Y/N, why did you do that?” Spencer spoke quickly in a higher pitch, his frustration evident.

“I want you inside me,” Y/N said, her voice filled with need.

“Oh my god, okay, yes,” Spencer responded, his eyes widening with desire.

Spencer quickly took off the rest of his clothing, his heart pounding in anticipation. He looked at Y/N, his eyes searching hers. “How do you want me?”

“I want to look into your eyes,” she replied softly.

Spencer nodded, positioning himself above her, their bodies aligned. He paused for a moment, looking deeply into her eyes, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice tender.

“Yes,” Y/N breathed, her eyes locked onto his.

Spencer entered her slowly, both of them gasping at the sensation. He moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every moment, their eyes never breaking contact. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, and they both felt an incredible connection, deeper than anything they had experienced before.

Y/N wrapped her legs around Spencer’s waist, pulling him closer, encouraging him to move faster. Spencer complied, increasing his pace, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Spencer,” Y/N moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his movements becoming more urgent.

They continued to move together, their breaths and moans mingling in the air. The intensity built, the pleasure growing with each thrust. Spencer could feel himself nearing the edge again, and he could tell Y/N was close too.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” Spencer gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

“Oh god, Spencer,” Y/N moaned, her eyes wide with desire.

“You gonna let me finish this time?” he teased breathlessly in her ear.

Y/N nodded frantically, the thought of Spencer finishing inside her and filling her up driving her crazy. She brought her hand up to his back, dragging her nails down, scratching him up. Spencer groaned wildly, loving the pain.

“Fuck… I’m coming,” he moaned, his body tensing as he thrust into her one final time.

Y/N felt Spencer’s cum filling her up, squelching out of her as he continued to thrust gently through his orgasm.. The sensation has her crying out, her body shaking with pleasure.

They clung to each other, their bodies trembling from the intensity. Spencer buried his face in Y/N’s neck, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Y/N held him close, her fingers still tracing patterns on his back.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, Spencer lifted his head to look into Y/N’s eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with affection and satisfaction. “My pleasure.”

Spencer gently rolled to the side, pulling Y/N into his arms. They lay there, basking in the afterglow, their bodies still intertwined. The bond between them had deepened even further, and they both knew they had found something truly special.

“I’m sorry we never made it to dinner,” Spencer said softly, a hint of regret in his voice.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We can go another time… if you still want to see me after this,” Y/N replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to see you again. This was not just a one-time thing. I really like you, Y/N,” Spencer said earnestly.

“I really like you too,” Y/N replied, her smile radiant, now looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

They shared a long, tender kiss before deciding to order takeout. After they ate their food, they settled on the couch and put on Doctor Who reruns.

Y/N nestled into Spencer’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. “So, tell me, what happened in those fanfictions? Which character taught you how to please a woman?”

Spencer laughed, a bit embarrassed. “Well, there were a few. But I think the one that stands out the most was a story where the Doctor and Rose... um, let’s just say they had some very detailed adventures.”

Y/N giggled, her fingers tracing patterns on his tummy. “I see. I’ll have to thank those fanfiction writers someday.”

Spencer blushed, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d actually use any of that knowledge.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Y/N said, looking up at him with a playful smile. “You certainly know what you’re doing.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m glad I could put them to good use.”

By the time the credits rolled on the last episode, they were both feeling a deep sense of contentment and happiness. Spencer held Y/N close, feeling grateful for the connection they had found.

“Thank you for tonight, Y/N,” Spencer said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you, Spencer,” Y/N replied, snuggling closer. “I’m really glad you stayed.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

—

Weeks had passed, and Spencer and Y/N had already had their first, second, third, and fourth dates. They were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend, but they had only told Derek, wanting to keep their honeymoon bubble intact. Life was sweet, and their bond had only grown stronger with each passing day.

One afternoon, Spencer was walking down the hallway when he overheard JJ talking to a random FBI agent. She was speaking in a low voice, thinking no one else could hear her.

“I just don’t get it,” JJ said, her tone laced with bitterness. “What does he even see in her? Y/N is just so… plain. She’s not even that interesting. Spencer deserves someone better.”

Spencer felt a surge of anger and hurt on Y/N’s behalf. He couldn’t believe JJ was talking about Y/N like that. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped forward, making his presence known.

“Excuse me, JJ,” Spencer said, his voice firm and controlled.

JJ jumped, her face flushing with embarrassment as she turned to see Spencer standing behind her. The random agent quickly excused himself, sensing the tension.

“Spencer, I… I didn’t think–,” JJ stammered, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Think? That’s the problem, JJ, you didn’t think. And I didn’t realize you had so much hatred towards my girlfriend. I have to say, I’m really disappointed in you, JJ. Y/N is an incredible person, and she deserves so much better than the petty, jealous remarks you just made,” Spencer said, his voice steady and firm.

JJ’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Spencer, I didn’t mean—wait, girlfriend?”

“Yes, JJ, Y/N is my girlfriend,” Spencer replied, his eyes narrowing.

“You picked her over me?” JJ asked, her voice a mixture of shock and hurt.

“Over you? JJ, you weren’t even an option, on my radar, or in the running! You have Will and Henry!” Spencer exclaimed, his frustration clear. “You have a family, JJ. Y/N is the one I’ve chosen to be with because she makes me happy, and I care about her deeply.”

JJ’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked down, unable to meet Spencer’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you.”

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions. “JJ, I need you to understand something. Y/N is important to me, and I won’t tolerate anyone speaking badly about her, especially not someone I consider a friend.”

JJ nodded, wiping away a tear. “I get it, Spencer. I’m really sorry. I let my jealousy get the best of me, and it was wrong.”

Spencer’s expression softened slightly, though his disappointment remained. “Just remember that, JJ. Y/N hasn’t done anything to deserve your disdain.”

“I understand,” JJ whispered. 

Spencer nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Good. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

As he turned to walk away, JJ called out softly, “Spencer, I really am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Spencer paused for a moment before responding. “I hope so too, JJ.”

Walking back to the bullpen, Spencer felt a mix of relief and sadness. He caught Derek’s eye, who gave him a questioning look. Spencer nodded slightly, indicating that everything was handled. Derek gave him a supportive smile and a thumbs up.

Returning to his desk, Spencer felt the weight of the confrontation lift a little. He knew he had done the right thing by standing up for Y/N. Their relationship was worth protecting, and he was determined to make sure it remained strong, no matter what obstacles they faced.

—

JJ, feeling a mix of shame and desperation after her confrontation with Spencer, decided she couldn’t continue working at the BAU. She needed a fresh start, away from the tension and the unspoken feelings that had now come to light. With a heavy heart, she made her way to Hotch’s office, determined to ask for a transfer.

Without knocking, JJ opened the door and walked in, only to be met with a sight she hadn’t expected. Hotch and Emily were in an embrace, their lips locked in a passionate kiss at his desk. They broke apart abruptly at the sound of the door opening, both of them looking startled and embarrassed.

“JJ!” Hotch exclaimed, his face turning a deep shade of red. “I—uh, we—”

Emily stepped back, smoothing her hair and trying to compose herself. “JJ, we didn’t realize—”

JJ held up her hands, her own embarrassment mixing with the turmoil of her emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just… I need to talk to you, Hotch. It’s important.”

Hotch cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Of course, JJ. What is it?” He nodded at Emily, silently signaling her to leave.

Emily walked out of the office, flushed, embarrassed, and nervous.

Derek, noticing her discomfort, raised an eyebrow. “Wow, Prentiss. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You good?”

Emily tried to shake off her nerves. “Wanna get a drink?”

“It’s 10 am,” Derek pointed out, though his tone was more curious than disapproving.

“Okay,” Emily replied, clearly in need of a distraction.

Derek chuckled softly. “Yeah, alright. What about Hotch?”

“He’ll understand,” Emily said, glancing back at the office door.

As they headed towards the break room, Derek couldn’t help but probe a bit more. “So, what happened in there? You and Hotch seemed pretty cozy.”

Emily sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid the topic forever. “It’s… complicated, Derek.”

He gave her a supportive smile. “Hey, whatever it is, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

Emily nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “I know. Thanks, Derek.”

The two agents walked to a nearby bar. Emily got them a pitcher of beer and they found a quiet corner to talk.

Derek poured them both a glass, then leaned back, looking at Emily expectantly. “Alright, Prentiss, spill.”

Emily took a deep breath, taking a long sip of her beer before speaking. “After the club night, Aaron and I slept together, and we’ve been secretly seeing each other ever since. JJ just caught us.”

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise. “You and Hotch? Seriously?”

Emily nodded, a mix of anxiety and relief on her face. “Yeah. It just… happened. And we’ve been trying to keep it under wraps because, you know, the team and work dynamics and all that.”

Derek took a moment to process the information, then let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s... a lot. But, hey, I’m happy for you guys. You both deserve to be happy.”

Emily smiled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks, Derek. I really appreciate that. It’s just been so stressful trying to keep it a secret, and now with JJ finding out…”

Derek nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. But you know, JJ will come around. And the rest of the team? They’ll support you.”

Emily sighed, feeling a bit lighter. “I hope so. I really care about him, Derek.”

Derek reached out and squeezed her hand. “If Hotch makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

Emily nodded, grateful for Derek’s support. They clinked their glasses together and took a drink, the weight of their secrets feeling a little less heavy with each passing moment.

—

After finishing work, Spencer found himself unable to wait to see Y/N. On impulse, he decided to show up at her townhouse unannounced. He knocked on her door, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

Y/N answered the door, looking surprised but pleased to see him. She was dressed casually in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair tousled and face free of makeup. She looked completely undone, clearly not expecting visitors.

“Spencer! What a surprise,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, his eyes taking in her appearance. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful, her natural state only enhancing his feelings for her. He couldn’t help but stare at her with a dopey, lovesick, contemplative expression.

Y/N noticed his intense gaze and felt a bit self-conscious. “What’s going on, Spencer? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer snapped out of his reverie and smiled. “Sorry, I just… you look beautiful. I couldn’t help but stare.”

Y/N blushed, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh, stop. I look like a mess.”

“To me, you look perfect,” Spencer said sincerely.

Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest at his words. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. Want something to drink?”

“Sure, thanks,” Spencer said, following her into the living room. He took a seat on the couch, still watching her with that same affectionate gaze.

Y/N brought him a glass of water and sat down beside him. “So, what brings you here unannounced?”

Spencer’s expression turned serious, and he took a deep breath. “I wanted to see you, and… there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What is it, Spencer?”

“It’s about JJ,” Spencer began, his voice hesitant. “Today, she was talking to another agent, and she said some really hurtful things. I overheard her, and I confronted her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”

“What she said isn’t important,” Spencer said, a mixture of anger and sadness in his voice. “She was jealous and bitter, and she didn’t realize I was standing right behind her.”

Y/N’s heart sank. “I see. What did you do?”

“I defended you. I told her that you’re my girlfriend and that I care about you. I made it clear that I won’t tolerate anyone talking badly about you, especially not someone I consider a friend,” Spencer said firmly.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she managed a smile. “You did that for me?”

“Of course I did,” Spencer said, taking her hand in his. “I care about you so much, Y/N. I won’t let anyone come between us.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, feeling a surge of love for him. “Thank you, Spencer. That means more to me than you know.”

Spencer leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” Y/N whispered, her heart swelling with emotion.

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative - Introduction

Before I do ANYTHING else, and before you read anything else...let's start this with a little poll, shall we?

...Look, I'm an overly ambitious person by nature. It's a problem, I'm fully aware. So, in the midst of writing character essays, imagining my own version of the DC Cinematic Universe (I promise, I will return to the Legion of Super-Heroes series; been having writer's block, not gonna lie), and about a dozen other projects that don't include school and my job (one and the same thing, and I love both, but I'll get to that one day)...I had another thought. That I would like to present to the good people of Tumblr (and perhaps beyond).

The state birds suck.

Most people on Tumblr don't know this about me, save for a select few that no me in real life (hey guys, 'sup), but I'm an avid birdwatcher, and am currently working in ornithology as a profession and student. As such, and as a former (and future) teacher, I have a vested passion in spreading the word. And one of the first ways most of us in the United States engage with birds, other than through the world and people around us, is through our national bird and state birds. Oh, and for anybody reading this not from the USA, don't worry, national birds are included here, too.

Now, in case you don't know for whatever reason, each one of the states in the United States has a bird meant to represent the state, designated by the government and often nominated by the state's citizens. This tradition started in 1926, with Kentucky's national bird, the Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis). Now, most states have an official state bird, although Pennsylvania technically has a state game bird, rather than a state bird. We'll get to it. But in any case, there's a bird associated with every state.

But, uh...most of them suuuuuuuuuuuck.

Now, for example, I'm not saying that the Northern Cardinal sucks. Far from it! I love cardinals, and honestly, who doesn't? They're handsome birds, they have a lot of character, they're recognizable in most states in the Union by most people. I love them! But, uh...cardinals are extremely overused as state birds. Kentucky chose them as their state bird first, and were followed by Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Virginia. That's ridiculous. Also, wait, really, Virginia? You saw that West Virginia had it already, and STILL went for the cardinal? What the hell?

But why? Maybe there's a good reason for all of those states to choose the cardinal, after all. Obviously, it's present in all of those states, because...well, the Northern Cardinal is basically everywhere. But other than that, why? Well, let's see.

Kentucky: Unclear, but it's likely because of its prevalence, songs, and nonmigratory behavior, at least according to some sources; there isn't a lot of evidence online as to why outside of this.

Illinois: For this one, we blame the children. Yeah, kids voted this one sd the symbol, choosing it over the bluebird, meadowlark, bobwhite, and oriole, according to the Illinois Department of Natural Resources. So, yeah, probably because it's familiar and red.

Indiana: For...reasons. Yeah, even less is known about this choice. Safe to assume, though, that it's because it's familiar and red.

Ohio: Apparently, this is because it's red and has a cheerful song. 'Kay. Again, not a lot of evidence for this one, but we'll go with it.

North Carolina: This one also came down to public vote, after a campaign initiated by the North Carolina Bird Club in 1943. It won over the red-winged blackbird, wild turkey, scarlet tanager, and gray catbird. Apparently, this was the second attempt at a state bird, as the Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis) had been chosen ten years earlier, but only retained the position for a week because the bird's other name is, and this is true, the tomtit. And that was apparently too lewd for the title of state bird. Jesus. We'll get back to that when I address North Carolina officially.

West Virginia: Again, chosen and voted by schoolchildren, and chosen because it's familiar, red, and has a cheerful song. 'Kay.

Virginia: No idea. Also, don't listen to the sites that say their bird "exemplifies the quality of the state" unless they have the GODDAMN PAPERWORK to back that shit up. If I had to guess, it's possibly because the northern cardinal is one of the first birds seen in the state by settlers to the continental USA, who landed in...Virginia. So, the state's got a historical connection to the cardinal, meaning that the last state to ratify it as a state bird is the one to make the most sense to do so.

So, yeah...only one of those makes sense to me. Otherwise, it just feels...random. And by the way, many of the state birds do make some sense. Utah's choice, the California Gull (Larus californicus), has roots in a Mormon miracle, which makes perfect sense for the Mormon state. Louisiana's Brown Pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) is an iconic species to the American southeast, and a massive proportion of the species breeds in the state. Same goes for the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus), the state bird of Oklahoma. Iconic and unique grassland bird, and it breeds within the state in high quantities for the global population.

But others? Why does New York (a state I grew up in and around) have the Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) for its state bird? Because it's blue and nice-looking? Why exactly do Wyoming, Oregon, Nebraska, Kansas, Montana, and North Dakota ALL have the Western Meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta)? I love the song too, and it's an iconic grassland species, but really? All of you? And Maine? Maine...Maine. I mean, you didn't even go for a specific species and just listed "chickadee" as your state bird. Why? There is a MUCH. BETTER. OPTION. OBVIOUSLY. But...I digress.

...FUCK IT

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH IS MAINE'S STATE BIRD NOT THE ATLANTIC PUFFIN (Fratercula arctica)??? ANSWER ME MAINE GODDAMMIT

Seriously, what the hell? It's the only state IN THE UNION where the Atlantic puffin breeds, and it's an incredibly iconic bird! I mean, look at that thing! They're adorable, fish-eating, clumsy-flying, feathery orbs with a Froot Loops beak (for part of the year), complete with their own fucking cereal that I ate constantly as a child. And their babies are called pufflings! PUFFLINGS!!! DO YOU HEAR ME MAINE WHAT THE FU

...OK. OK. I'm good. Look, this genuinely irritates the SHIT out of me, both as a hobbyist and as a professional. There are near 1,000 bird species that can be found in the United States, and the state birds are, honestly, some basic-ass choices that doesn't BEGIN to explore the incredible diversity of this taxon. And honestly, maybe if we changed up the state birds, we could increase awareness for these animals and their conservation stories and needs. There are so many missed opportunities here for us as educators, birders, ornithologists, backyard birdwatchers, and even Birdblr, to educate those around us who aren't as ornithologically-inclined. Imagine being able to convince a friend to go find the state bird on a trip some weekend. It could be a fun activity, and a fun way to get into birdwatching and the natural world! IT'S GOT POTENTIAL!!!

And look, I realize I'm not alone on this front. Various people have proposed changing up the state birds, including some more powerful professionals than I. If you haven't seen it yet, check out this essay series from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology that came out last year, which asks whether or not eBird could be used to identify better candidates for state birds. And I'll be using it for what's coming next. Because here's the thing. I'm tired of ranting alone in the dark towards nobody while my fiancee is trying to sleep about this. I need to rant to you poor people instead. And what's more...I want people to rant with me. If they want to. So...

TO ME, BIRDBLR!!! LEND ME YOUR BINOCULARS!!!

I propose an initiative to create a new list of state birds for the United States of America. And I'm talkin' EVERY state, baby! Even the ones that have fitting birds, as mentioned above. We live in a GODDAMN DEMOCRACY, and I say that we put this to a vote. So, Imma make a series of polls, one for each state. And yeah, that's 50 polls. Each will have a selection of birds, including the current state bird for that state, and I'll present the options in each case. The rules and selection criteria for the birds I'll present are as follows:

The bird has to be wild and breed in the state in question. No migrants, to accidentals, no introduced species (looking at you, South Dakota), no domestic species (looking at you, Rhode Island and Delaware). They're from the state, they breed there, and they're wild. Don't have to be endemic to the state, but they need to be found there, at bare goddamn minimum.

No repeats! Every state will have a different species! No more repeats. If there are any ties for states to get a given bird, another set of polls will be made at the end to determine which state will get that bird, and the second highest bird will claim the spot for that state. I'll try to avoid that for each state, but we'll see how things go.

There has to be a reason for their selection. For each of the birds presented for each state, I'll make a solid argument for their nomination. This also goes for any birds submitted to me for suggestions (and yes, I mean to say y'all can make suggestions if you want to for each state). If you have a bird you think would be good for a state, especially if it's your state, please give me a reason. Not that it's pretty, not that you like it's song, not that it "represents the spirit of the state's people" for no easily defined reason. GIVE ME A REASON

And for now, that's it! And hell, if this gets popular or demanded (and I'm saying this if, like, 30 people pay attention to this post), I'll also do the District of Columbia and the U.S. territories. And hell (again), I'll even consider doing other countries if that gets demanded, definitely starting with Canada and seeing how things go from there. And finally...if people want it, maybe even the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus) will go up for debate as the USA's national bird. Although, not gonna lie, I think that we're stuck with that one. Still, there are other questions that can be brought up if this gets popular enough. For now, though, let's focus on one thing at a time.

So, hopefully you answered the poll at the top, because I am curious as to what you think about your state bird. And just to set this up, the first state on the chopping block is Delaware, which has one of the most offensive state birds, in my opinion. Because seriously. What the fuck, Delaware? What the fuck.

See you soon, hopefully! And happy birding!

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

Introduction to the State Birds Initiative

Delaware - Poll | Results Pennsylvania - Poll | Results New Jersey - Poll | Results (coming soon) Georgia - incoming!

[kyoukamybeloved]

Yet again, Chuuya wouldnt get out of my sight today. I wish he would get out of my sight. Needless to say, I don't want to have to look away first.

more soukoku webweaves: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9

this is the tenth soukoku web weave of mine and I made it on my birthday when I was in a real taylor swift mood so enjoy this skk and swiftie brainrot

creds :

love lines - Olga Broumas// art by @taxolotl // exhibits from the water american museum - Natalie Diaz// peace - Taylor Swift// cowboy like me - Taylor Swift// art by @twilicidity // wishbone - Richard Siken// art by @liyv // spellbound - Ophelia Silk// love opened a mortal wound - Sor Juana Inès de la Cruz// david foster wallace// high infidelity - Taylor Swift// the archer - Taylor Swift// we were that joke - Gregory Orr// art by @taxolotl // litany in which certain things are crossed out - Richard Siken// is it over now? - Taylor Swift// the story of us - Taylor Swift// the becoming of Noah Shaw - Michelle Hodkin// art by @thornedarrow // south and west - Joan Didion// art by @lotus-pear // wishbone - Richard Siken// long live - Taylor Swift// ivy - Taylor Swift// portrait of a boy with grief - Wale Ayinla// the chronology of water: a memoir - Lidia Yuknavitch// art by @thornedarrow// Andrea Dworkin// bigger than the whole sky - Taylor Swift// ‘tis the damn season - Taylor Swift// a love letter to a dead thing - Layana Clouet// art by @twilicidity// art from @/mizumoe_ on twitter// august - Taylor Swift// is it over now? - Taylor Swift// souvenir - Warsan Shire// don’t blame me - Taylor Swift// cruel summer - Taylor Swift// the waves - Virginia Woolf// art by @carrotkicks //

tags:

@philzokman @dinosaur-mayonnaise @amagami-hime @the-gayest-sky-kid @galaxitic @ghostsinacoat @gorotic @lotus-reblogs @vivid-vices @zamxii @autistic-ranpo @pendragonstar @sskk-brainrot @oatmilkbasic @underthetree845 @thesunshinebard @whiteapplesandblackblood @sigskk @pastel-paramour @vinylbiohazard @jacuzziwaters @sommmee @evermorehypewoman

[probablyasocialecologist]

Vance did not grow up in poverty or in Appalachia. He grew up middle class in the Rust Belt, in Middletown, Ohio. His grandparents were from eastern Kentucky, in Appalachia, and he visited their old homestead during holidays. His experience with Appalachian poverty is the equivalent of a student writing about their summer vacations. Vance is quick to qualify his success with faux-humility: “I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve accomplished nothing great in my life, certainly nothing that would justify a complete stranger paying to read about it.” Still, he claims the book is a representation of “the American Dream as my family and I encountered it.” He is playing off the belief, widespread in Appalachia, in my experience, that folks who are suffering from addiction, in need of social welfare, or otherwise down on their luck are to blame because they didn’t work hard enough. Vance boldly generalizes his family as “hardworking, except of course for the many food stamp recipients who show little interest in honest work.”

[...]

I don’t have the money and power that Vance does, but here’s what I’ve learned: Appalachia is a distinct place. It is easy to spin false narratives about it because not many people know much about it outside the region. Addiction is a public health crisis here, as are mental health and heart disease. Queer people, women, and non-white people live here. Its relative lack of monetary and educational resources exists alongside its wealth of natural beauty. Growing up in a place of natural beauty reminds you that the earth is alive, and it’s sick. Growing up with few resources amid addiction teaches you to make much of little, to use imagination as refuge, to be attentive to those around you, and to care for those who are not always well enough to care for you back. It reminds you that community extends past your biological family and that family is a responsibility and gift. It reminds you that salary is not the measure of a person.

27 August 2024

[inkdrinkerworld]

requests open!l? 👀 what about aaron who is oblivious to how hot he is, and bau!reader who can’t keep her eyes off of him when his suit fits so tight against his body. it’s hot in the bullpen so he takes off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and she is about to faint for a whole new reason 😩🙌🏻

omg!!!!

your eyes are glued on hotch pretty much all the time that you’re shocked your teammates haven’t played your longing stares for jokes sooner.

it takes a heatwave in virginia to get derek and emily to tease you.

aaron’s in this new suit- you know it’s new because you’ve never seen it before. it fits him perfectly, almost as if they draped the fabric on him and pinned everything in place before even seeing it together.

it’s hard to look away from the way his clings to him so perfectly.

“baby, you look more thirsty than any of us,” derek says playfully, “and your water’s right there.”

you bat his hand away from you just as aaron steps into the round table room.

he’s shed his suit jacket and his black shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

you’re pretty sure you stop breathing then and there.

you know you do when emily whispers, “breathe girl.”

“okay penelope, you can go ahead.”

he sits beside you and you feel your head spin. you’re not sure how much of this can be blamed on the heatwave.

“you okay, y/l/n?” hotch asks, interrupting the case findings.

his hand goes to the back of your neck and you feel your body go limp a little.

“yeah,” you swallow, “the heat’s getting to me i think.”

aaron nods sympathetically, handing over his iced water bottle.

“here, put it on the back of your neck. it should help you cool down.”

derek and emily send flirty glances your way when hotch moves out of your space, and while you’re grateful for the iced bottle, you know it’s not going to help.

not when you two remain paired for the entire day.

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

OK BUT SPENCER'S AND BAU TEAM REACTION TO TTPD????

spencer reid x famous!reader

warnings: miscarriage (will put a warning before and after), im basing most of the mention/emotions of miscarriages with my experience with my sister who has gone through a couple while she was trying for a baby as well as research i did, mention of weed

note: this has taken a while to write cause i wanted to interpret the songs on my own time before applying then to the au, so i hope it was worth the wait!

this quickly became my analysis of the songs (in the context of the au) rather than the bau's reactions

feel free to send a message to my inbox about what you think their reactions would be/fav songs i love hearing about that stuff from y'all 🩷

Fortnight (ft. Post Malone)

I don't picture this song to be about Spencer. I see it as more fictional in the way folklore and evermore were more fictional inspired by different things that have happened in her life. Also I feel like Emily likes Post Malone so she was excited for this song, and Penny love the ai fortnight but love the real fortnight better.

Spencer is always worried when a sadder song comes out that it's about him, but reader always reassures him that it's not and that she loves him.

The Tortured Poets Department

THIS SONG IS SO SPENCER REID CODED. "you're in self-sabotage mode" !!!!

I feel like this is Rossi's fav off the album 🤷‍♀️

I said this in an ask a while ago but sometime in 2020, maybe 2021, they had a sort of break and this song was written during that time for sure.

"but you told Penny you'd kill if I ever leave, and I said that to Jack about you so I felt seen, everyone we know why it's meant to be, cause we're... crazy" I feel like this line really explains the break they were on. Like they were so co-dependant and loved each other so much that it was the problem. Everyone knows they're meant for each other but they still get in their own way, Spencer with not wanting to get married when reader did, and reader not wanting Spencer to spend so much time with work. And they just weren't thinking of the same things at that time.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys

"He saw forever so he smashed it up" reminds me of "i wouldn't marry me either" but in 'you're losing me' she's blaming herself for the break whereas in this song she realized that it was Spencer and his commitment issues. Which always makes me think of the line "I'll tell you that he runs because he loves me" which can be seen as a really sad line but I think in this instance it's that she wants to accept him for all his faults, he's going to run sometimes when he gets scared but he always comes back, and they're working on that.

"Once i fix me, he's gonna mix me" reminds me very much like 'you're losing me'

"Stole my tortured heart, felt all these broken parts, told me I'm better off... but I'm not" do I have to say commitment issues and self-sabotage again?

Down Bad

Emily loves this song. She loves the vibes, she loves the lyrics, just everything.

In my eyes, it's about Spencer. Reminds me of "told me I'm better off... but I'm not."

So Long, London

Penelope's favourite part of the album is the opening of this song, first time hearing it she said it sounded like wedding bells.

In Virginia there's a town called New London thats 2hrs from Quantico... It's meant to be.

"Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away" you guys gonna make me say commitment issues every time?

She's clearly talking about her side of when they both weren't communicating and how he hurt her when he couldn't commit.

She really thought it was over when she wrote this.

But Daddy I Love Him

The shock in that room when she said "I'm having his babies!"... Derek found it hilarious, the girls were having a heart attack.

I think she's not not writing about Spencer in this song. Idk how else to explain, like it's kinda about backlash from every time she gets in a relationship no matter with who, which happened with Spencer so she's talking about that but not that exclusively. Does that make sense?

Fresh Out The Slammer

I think this song is about getting out of a relationship and now you're free to be with someone else who you've had your eye on. This song was written so long ago it's basically a rep vault track. In this au when reader and Spencer met reader was with Tom (i think??) but still gave Spencer her number and called him after she broke up with Tom, and that was the birth of this song.

Florida!!! (ft. Florence + The Machine)

Written about the idea of getting away, taking a break from life, while her and Spencer were on their break. She needed a break, all her friends were either single and smell like weed or they had kids and she wanted kids, but Spencer wasn't ready, so she had to get away from what reminded her of him.

Guilty as Sin?

"What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind" she's imagining what it would be like if they got back together.

Is the second half of this song when she says "they're gonna crucify me anyway,,, i choose you and me, religiously.." And the song sounds like it ended but they she comes back in with the chorus, cause she thought it was over but now they're back better than ever.

"One slip falling into a hedge maze" a labyrinth is a hedge maze, because she fell back in love.

The last "Am I allowed to cry" is almost like can I cry from relieve? Relieve that it worked.

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?

This song is Spencer Reid coded.

Derek and Emily love badass-ery of this song. Pen loves the production "I love the production of this song!" "I'll pass that along to Jack."

Spencer just can't help but tell her he loves and is proud of her after hearing it.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

This is about a past relationship, no way can I see this to be about Spencer.

I feel like JJ really likes this song.

loml

This song was written, probably not too long after 'you're losing me' when they had that break and she was in the depression stage. She wrote this when she thought she lost him, she thought she did all she could and still lost him.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

warning!!!miscarriage

I had written down the idea of them having miscarriage in my notes app a couple weeks or maybe even a month before the album, cause of the song 'bigger than the whole sky' and when I heard this song with this in mind it broke my heart, that I knew I had to do it.

I'm thinking they were trying for a while and having lots of trouble, then stopped when the tour idea was falling in place, but she ended up miscarrying during the practice for the tour while not knowing she was pregnant. Likely she didn't know because she was on birth control and because she was working so hard and so busy with Midnights and the tour.

So with all the trouble they were having trying to get pregnant, Spencer was grieving in his own way, sadly it hurt reader a lot. He was angry, he probably said things he didn't mean, they were both feeling so much sadness and anger and they couldn't handle it. I think at this time, they were still going to bed every night together, but it was off and they no longer spent time together. Spencer needed the time to himself, when all reader needed was time with him (want to be clear no one is in the wrong in this situation, it's just a fucking bad situation)

"He said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short" has two meaning (they were having a boy)

"I can hold my breath, I've been doing it since he left. I keep finding his things in drawers, crucial evidence I didn't imagine the whole time, I'm sure I can pass this test." 😭 Like referring to her baby, and since they'd been trying before they had a couple baby things like clothes that she couldn't stop herself from getting in hopes 😭😭😭

end of warning

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Every verse I see as being about a different relationship. Working on re-records it's bring up old feelings and I think she just collectively put all the feelings into this song.

Spencer was beyond scared it was about him, he was already apologizing for making her feel that way before she could tell him it's not about him.

The Alchemy

This idea I have is so silly, that I think it works???

Spencer once said off-handedly that his job was kinda like football, it was strategy, and you failed a lot but sometimes things just fell into place like a puzzle. And reader ran with that idea, like she couldn't sleep that bight and just had the silly thought of Spencer, her Spencer, playing football and wrote this. Little off topic but I also think this about 'Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince' lol

Clara Bow

The self-name drop. The team's jaws were on the floor, their eyes were wide. When Pen realizes she's like "DID YOU JUST DAY YOUR OWN NAME??!?"

The Black Dog

Maybe like the team was seeing how Spencer was down recently and brought him out to a bar after work.

And Spencer didn't 'forget' to turn off his location he never did because he still had the hope that the relationship wasn't over, that this was just a rough patch.

imgonnagetyouback

Spoiler alert: she got him back.

Because no matter how much they hurt each other they're in love. And it reminds me of a boygenius lyric "You could absolutely break my heart, that's how I know that we're in love." that lyric in bodies them.

The Albatross

This is like a sister song to 'peace'

This song to me is obviously about the narrative that she's the problem. She's the one destroying all her relationships.

And she's telling Spencer in this song "I've been through this before, it doesn't matter."

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

This song is her thinking about them seeing other people. Her imagining him with other people, how much that hurts.

And around 2020-2021 maybe there were rumours about her seeing some athlete or something cause of 'And you saw my bones out with somebody new, who seemed like he would've bullied you in school'

And maybe not the entire song is about him (that's me trying to make him sound better) I see it as mostly her thinking off some what-ifs.

I think they both caused each other a lot of pain, but their love out-ways that completely.

How Did It End?

Written the same night as the Black Dog and she's thinking about what Spencer tells the team.

I see the fact she says 'it's happening again' instead of 'it's happened again' tells us that this is not a sure thing, she's thinking about what people will think if it does end.

So High School

What if it's just a lover vault track lol.

I Hate It Here

I think Penny really likes this song.

It's definitely written in the state of mind of the prophecy, that she's just not meant to be loved but she wants to so badly. So she escapes into her mind which I picture is folklore/evermore.

thanK you aIMee

They love the petty vibes, probably was Penny that first showed or sent a TikTok of North listening to reader's music and was like "girl, you see this yet?"

I Look in People's Windows

In this au I see this as a folklore or evermore vault track.

The Prophecy

Very similar to 'how did it end' and 'i hate it here'

Cassandra

Again it's very similar to 'mad women' so maybe she chose which one to put on folklore and put the other on this album.

Peter

I think she wrote this as a break up song, with a lot of metaphors but what sticks out to me is in the bridge.

"Cause loves never lost when perspective is earned, and you said you'd come and get me but you were 25,,,forgive me peter please know that i tried to hold on to the days that you were mine."

Spencer was 25 in this au when they met and it's so perfect and sad and I love it.

The Bolter

In this au the 'She' in this song is reader.

Robin

I feel boring by saying I think it's another track written in the fictional world of folklore and evermore, but for the au that's what I think!

The Manuscript

In the directors on directors interview she called the All too well short film script 'the manuscript' that's all the evidence I need.

Spencer encouraged her to write this song, because he saw all the emotions she was dealing with while writing/directing the short film.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀: 𝘉𝘈𝘊𝘒 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: returning back home isn't entirely unwelcome, it's just the guilt and shame that is. things are tense between you and your mom, and you want nothing more than to fix it, but you have to fix yourself first.

word count: 2078

warnings: withdrawal symptoms, the reader is an alcoholic, cigarettes, addiction, allusions to reader's father being sick.

a/n: HII!! so i'm kind of nervous but also excited because i've never posted a series before! i have a loose idea of what i want to do with this story, so i'm riding with vibes right now! i hope you guys like this and let me know how you feel!!

masterlist | series masterlist | AO3

Your head hurts. 

You’ve never been a particularly good flier, the jetlag you experience every time you land never fails to make you feel sick.

The terminal you stood in was loud, the large area booming with people since you had landed in the early afternoon. It was warm in Quantico, Virginia, and it was still the beginning of September. The skies were clear from what you could see through the glass roof, the clouds a welcoming softened contrast to the turmoil stirring within you.

You squint up at the sky through your sunglasses and your already bitten down nails find themselves trying to pick at the peeled skin of your cuticles, but your movements pause at the absent added weight of an engagement ring. 

It’s like a punch to the gut, but you don’t have much time to think when you spot your mother standing off to the side near the entrance. You’d already been through baggage claim, your whole life amounted to two full suitcases. They were just clothes, everything you had back in New York belonged to him.

The nervousness after finally seeing your mother again made your throat close and nerves light up like wildfire. You felt that familiar itch of need under your skin, like you wish you could peel back the flesh and scratch at your bones. 

You could settle for taking a deep breath.

You made your way towards her as she waved hesitantly; she looked older, the brightened coloring of her hair no longer shined its youthful color, instead, it was replaced by almost a full head of gray. It looked good on her, but you have a feeling she aged faster than she probably should have because of certain circumstances.

This was why you dreaded coming back here, back to Virginia, back home; you weren’t ready to face the guilt and grief that you had fought so desperately to try and run from. You felt completely out of your depth, like you didn’t deserve to come back after what you did. 

It surprised you when your mother willingly answered your phone call – seeing though she hadn’t bothered to try and reach out to you even though your number was still the same – you were to blame for it though, there were only so many instances where someone can stand being ignored before they just give up all together.

“Mom.” You breathed out, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. You push your glasses up into your hair and you know you look like shit. You had called her and left right after it happened, so yesterday's running makeup still sat dried on your face. You tried to make yourself presentable during the flight, but there was only so much you could do with airline water and a tissue.

It wasn’t just the makeup, and you know it; it was the dark circles under your eyes due to basically years of shit sleep – and even days without it – bloodshot eyes and sunken features, on top of your tremoring figure due to withdrawal.

She gives you a once over, a quick, fleeting up and down look, but you can see it, the absolute devastation and concern written on her face.

“Hi.” Is all she says. “Is that it?” She gestures down to your suitcases. “Yep, that’s all of it.” Another look. “Okay.”

It’s awkward and tense and no one knows what to say. You sure as hell don’t, because if you open your mouth, you’re not sure what would come out. An apology? A snarky remark or an ugly comment? You’re a mix of emotions right now, and all you can focus on is the want for a cigarette and a drink.

It doesn’t take long to approach the car, and it’s the same shitty Kia Sedan that your dad had let you drive when you were just a teenager with a permit. You soften at the sight and your mom pops the trunk open with ease. She takes your suitcases from you, and you don’t stop her. When she gets fretful like this, you just have to let her do her thing and take care of you.

‘Even though I don’t deserve it’ you can’t help but think bitterly.

It still smells the same when you sit in the passenger seat of it, the faux leather seats still withered and chipping.

“So…” Your mom begins. You can see her grip on the steering wheel is tight, her posture tense as though she doesn’t know what to do now that you’re here. You can’t stand it. She used to be so confident, so self-assured. Maybe not everything stayed the same.

“How are you?” She questions meekly. “Tired and jetlagged.” You choose to indulge her. “Right.” She says, tone light. “How about you?” You ask, “How are things?” You know there’s so much she wants to say, but she doesn’t want to risk starting a fight, so she settles for, “I’ve been fine.”

“Right.” You reiterate, nodding while turning your head to stare out the window. 

“Your first AA meeting is in a few days.”

Down to business, thank God. “Alright.”

“I really need you to stick to this, okay? We had an agreement.” The trust between the two of you is completely broken, and you have no idea how to fix it. There’s so much about her you need to relearn, half a decade of missed moments and memories that could’ve been made.

“Okay.”

“And you’ll call my therapist?”

“Yes mom.” 

“I’m serious. I want you to try and put in an effort. I know things are hard right now, but I really want to help you, and I can’t if you won’t work with me. I refuse to let you turn into some couch surfing drunk that does nothing but self-destructs the whole day –”

“God, mom I said okay!” You snap.

It goes silent. Just great.

It’s mid-afternoon when you finally make it home.

That’s what really takes the cake.

The lawn is well kept, your mom most likely paying someone to come out here. Before you left, your mom’s arthritis had been getting worse, but she rarely cared about herself when your father was sick.

The porch was decorated with all sorts of plants either sitting or hanging off the railings, a different assortment of windchimes and crystal sun catchers scattered about the awning.

You take the initiative to get the suitcases out yourself as your mom starts for the front door. A sick sense of nostalgia settles over you. The street was still the same; your house was one in three within the little cul-de-sac, sidewalks still marred with childlike chalk drawings, lawns scattered about with chairs, bikes, and toys.

Your eyes fell on the house across from yours and that same itch found itself resurfacing.

When you got inside you could have thrown up; it felt like a weight was being placed on your chest, your heart aching as you took in the family photos on the walls. You knew you were shaking by now, your tremoring getting worse and sweat perspiring on your brow. You felt so bare without your protective vices.

“I’m gonna make lunch, okay? I’ll give you some time to set up.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” You say through your dry throat. She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before giving it a squeeze.

You keep your gaze focused forward as you brace the hall to your old childhood bedroom, which was on the right at the end. 

Opening the door, you take in what looks like a snapshot in history, the room so untouched that it was frozen in time. 

The blankets on your bed were left askew like you had left them the night of your departure, your side table decorated with a box of tissues, your old sketchbook, and a cup of pens and pencils sat on top of it.

Your desk is still holding old textbooks and what not, but you had practically stripped the room clean when you left.

You abandon your suitcases to sit on your bed, and when you do, a small gust of dust flurries around you and you can’t help but laugh. It wasn’t that it was funny, but if you didn’t react in some sort of way, you would’ve cried.

You felt so emotionally unbalanced, and you blinked hard to rid yourself from the burning behind your eyelids. Just then, you remembered something.

Standing up, you make your way to your closet, opening the sketched doors to dig around for a shoe box, when you find it, you make a small ‘whoop!’ sound. It opened to reveal your old smoke stash. You were young and taking care of your dying father pushed you to pick up cigarettes. 

You hid it as a courtesy to your mom, but you’re sure that now at the ripe age of twenty-seven, you don’t need to be that careful. You take out the old carton and it still has a whole role of filters left. Then you flicked the gear on the lighter and it lit up. Finally, a win.

“I’m gonna step out for a bit, okay?” You announce to your mom as you retreat down the hall. “Oh?” She says in surprise. “Where are you going?” You wave off her question. “Just gonna sit out on the porch for a second. Is that cool?”

You know your mom is worried about you, now that you are trying to get clean, she feels as though she has to keep an eye on you. You went completely cold turkey, the last drink you had was the day before you flew out.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” She rushes to say. “I’ll be back inside before the food’s done, okay?” You reassure her. You’re trying to get used to finding an old balance with her, because you missed her, more than anything. You want her to trust you again.

“Okay.”

You find yourself sitting in that familiar spot on the porch step, the same one you’d sit on when your dad couldn’t sleep and you’d find yourself out here in the middle of the night. Someone else used to sit with you too.

Your eyes flicker over to the house across the street while you light up the cigarette between your lips. The nicotine and tobacco helps to ease the itch in your veins and you sighed, blowing the air out with it.

There was another relationship you needed to fix.

You haven’t seen or talked to Spencer in years, but he was your best friend up until you left for New York with your then boyfriend. I mean… it’s not often you’d meet a twelve-year-old that goes to college. He was the exact opposite of the boy next door with his big nerdy glasses and meek demeanor, like he didn’t know how to carry himself.

You knew the bullying was bad, so you were his only friend.

You liked that he was smart, and he knew how to listen, you loved his mom, and you were there for Spencer when her schizophrenia started to get bad. Two hurt people that found themselves acting as a crutch to the other.

That same sickening feeling of guilt reappeared, and you took in another deep drag of smoke. You held it there, longer than you probably should have and when you released it, you were dizzy, and your throat burned uncomfortably. 

Your blinks were slow, and you grew nauseous.

“Fuck.” You murmured, running the filter up and down the bottom of your shoe to put it out before flicking it away. 

You hang your head between your legs and attempt to ground yourself.

“Hon?” Your mom calls out from behind the screen door. “Are you okay?” She rubs up and down your shoulders and you sniffle. “Yeah just…” You take a deep breath. “Just a little nauseous.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything because you’re a grown woman that could make her own decisions, but don’t make me take those things away too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her chiding.

“Yes, mother.” You say dryly but without any malice. It’s nice to be able to joke like this with her. 

“Now, how about a sandwich? I bet it tastes better than those things.”

“Ham and cheese?” You question hopefully and finally lift your head. You’re greeted with her fond smile that makes her look younger. “Yes, baby. Ham and cheese.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna