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darkmatilda · 6 months ago

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𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought that after a certain misunderstanding, your relationship had taken on a purely platonic and friendly form but then the investigation sent you to the freezing wilderness of alaska, where every night you find warmth in his bed.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!bau reader, the same reader as in my story "the bolter" but it's not necessary to read it before! there are no major references, but people who have read it might treat this as a continuation (if they want to). in this story, we still have our wonderful queen elle greenaway, gideon and morgan, and many of my attempts (not always successful) at being funny. mostly smut with A LOT of plot, description of the case, oral (f receiving) and some much actions but described in a subtle way. a little bit of angst, but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't add some. again, GLASSES REID!!

𝐚/𝐧: first fic at the beginning of the month, i really wanted to post it today. i think it's time to start posting christmas-themed works? would you be interested? by the way, i hope december will treat you kind <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

“I’m freezing, God, I’m freezing.”

“Me too, look how I’m shaking, I swear, one more hour and my feet will fall off, and then my toes…”

“Guys, for god’s sake!” Morgan finally spoke up, his voice tinged with impatience. The hood of his waterproof, windproof jacket covered almost half of his face, and even so, he was clearly the lightest dressed of all of them. “We’ve landed.” He pulled off a glove to check his watch. “Just under fifteen minutes ago. You still don’t know shit about freezing, so stop complaining like a bunch of old women in a knitting cycle…”

“I’d love to be an old lady in a knitting circle right now,” you sighed, your breath immediately turning to steam. You exchanged a look with Reid, who was freezing just as much as you were, and together, you had been driving Derek crazy with your whining. You all had similar gear, thermal layers, and jackets designed for extreme conditions, but it still wasn’t enough. “Sitting by the fireplace, knitting a sweater. Gossiping with other retirees.”

“Exchanging gingerbread recipes,” Spencer suggested, his tone just as wistful.

“And sharing tips for dealing with worms in our cats’ anuses,” you added.

“I’m done," Derek muttered.

Your work often sent you to various corners of the United States, but it rarely involved Alaska. Well, due to the state’s relatively low population density compared to others, fewer crimes were committed there, especially at the federal level.

However, in recent weeks, strange disappearances had occurred—teenagers and young men. Their bodies were found in remote areas, deep in the forest or in completely uninhabited wilderness, places so isolated that even an experienced survivalist would struggle to find their way out.

The local police, as local police often do in most criminal cases, initially pretended there wasn’t a problem, insisting the victims had died as a result of tragic accidents, simply getting lost during a hike. But when the number of deaths began to rise, and the victims included even high school students—locals who were well aware of the dangers of wandering alone after dark in such perilous areas—the case landed on JJ’s desk.

And so, you found yourselves in the brutally frigid surroundings of Fairbanks, heading toward the inn where you were supposed to drop off your things and immediately dive into the investigation.

"The temperature this week is going to range from 15 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit," Spencer informed you over his shoulder as he opened the car trunk to retrieve the luggage. "Of course, that's during the day. At night, it’ll drop as low as -4 degrees."

Elle shivered as he handed her her bag.

"I was doing just fine without those numbers," she said, nudging you lightly with her shoulder—a touch you barely felt through the thick layers of clothing. "What do you say we make up for this with a New Year’s trip? Mallorca? The Himalayas?"

"I’m dreaming of the Caribbean," Morgan chimed in. "Beaches, sunshine, and cocktails—that’s what I’ll be dreaming of tonight."

"And half-naked sunbathers," you added.

"And half-naked sunbathers," he agreed with a grin.

Elle trudged ahead, sinking into the snow up to her calves. The inn was a sizable wooden building, adorned with balconies and terraces that, given the weather, likely went unused, though they added considerable charm. It was tucked away in a secluded spot, offering privacy and a peaceful atmosphere—ideal for work.

You lingered by the car, waiting for Reid to grab his things, unwilling to leave him behind.

“Do you know much about the northern lights, Rudolph?” you teased, nodding toward his red-tipped nose. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them.”

“Well, then you’re in luck,” he replied, looking at you with a slight smile. “We’re in one of the best places to see them, during the season with the longest nights. They’ll be visible pretty early, though the most stunning views will probably happen between ten at night and two in the morning. I’ve always wanted to see them in person too.”

"So, what do you think?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Midnight, at my door, and we’ll go play aurora hunters?"

You shivered just at the thought. Of course, you were joking—there was no way you'd even stick a single hand out from under the covers at this hour with those freezing nighttime temperatures. You planned to admire the beautiful phenomenon from your room window. Warm, you hoped.

"Alright. Just make sure you bundle up,"

"Sure. Thermal thong and all that."

Your room was on the same floor as Elle's and JJ's, and you were glad to have them just behind the next door. Unpacking took you only a minute, and within that time, you were all together, sitting as a team, going through the case files.

“These boys were so young,” JJ remarked, shaking her head with a hint of dread. “Sixteen, the youngest, twenty-four, the oldest. They were found in such remote locations that if it hadn’t been for the ongoing professional search and the dogs, who knows how long it would have taken before anyone stumbled upon their bodies.”

“Given the heavy snowfall, they might not have been found until the thaw. What do their parents and families say about all of this?” Hotch asked.

“Unanimously, they believe their kids would never have ventured that far on their own. This is where the mystery starts, though, because there were no wounds on their bodies, except for the ones they inflicted on themselves in their attempts to survive in the cold.”

“So, it looks like someone kidnapped them, drove them out to a place you’d never get out of without serious survival skills, and just left them to die?” Derek asked, baffled.

“Seems that way. Yesterday, an eighteen-year-old named David Moore was reported missing. Normally, it probably would have been classified as a delayed return home or maybe a runaway, and the police wouldn’t have even taken the report. But given the current circumstances and the rising panic among the locals, his parents decided not to wait. A wise decision.”

"How many hours has it been since he went missing?" you asked, running your own grim calculations in your head. "Around eight, right? Is it even possible for him to survive the night out there in these conditions?"

"That depends on what he was wearing and the specific location where he was left," Reid explained, thoughtfully cleaning the lenses of his glasses. You realized it had been a while since you’d seen him wearing them—he used to wear them daily, but lately, it was only on occasion. For a moment, you found yourself staring at his face, liking how the dark frames suited it.

"His parents believe he was likely abducted on his way home from tutoring," Elle noted, flipping through the case file. "People around here dress warmly as a habit, but even so, I doubt his everyday clothes would be particularly suited to weather like this. At night. In the middle of the woods."

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, broken only by Hotch clearing his throat.

"Anyway, we need to join the ongoing search efforts. We’ll be more useful out in the field than trying to build a profile with the scraps of information we have. I’m not sure if I need to remind you, but out of habit, I will: be cautious and don’t, under any circumstances, stray from the search group. They know this area."

Before you all moved out to get to work, Reid shot you a fleeting glance. Like a dad, you mouthed silently, and he let out the faintest chuckle. You both enjoyed spotting those unmistakably parental tendencies in your boss, though they were directed at you and the rest of the team.

Hours of searching had, unfortunately, yielded no results—the crushing pressure of time bore down on you all. The knowledge that each passing moment was stripping this boy of his chances for survival felt almost unbearable. If he had somehow managed to survive the first eight hours in the forest, sixteen seemed an increasingly unlikely feat.

And yet, hope lingered. The group, driven by his distraught family, refused to stop, likely continuing to scour the area despite warnings. Meanwhile, you stood in your hotel room, so close to the window that the cold glass brushed against your nose.

Your thoughts were consumed by the case and the fate of the teenager. Just as Reid had said, the sky was illuminated by that breathtaking greenish glow. Watching it felt almost surreal, and you wanted to take in as much of it as your eyes could hold.

If it weren’t for the fact that you had frozen to your very core during the search, you might have stepped outside to see it more clearly.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, there was a knock at your door.

You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone. When you opened it, you came face to face with none other than Spencer. Well, it was hard to tell it was him at first. He was bundled up so tightly in layers of warm clothes that his body lost its natural shape and resembled more of a puffy ball than a person.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, raising his hand hesitantly and scanning your appearance from head to toe. "You're not ready yet. Sorry, I think I came too early. I thought we were meeting at midnight..."

"We were meeting?"

"For the northern lights hunt, you forgot? I checked the Kp index, it's a measure of aurora activity that determines its intensity, and it turns out tonight is really favorable... wait, why are you laughing?"

His furrowed brows and face, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway but clearly confused, only made you laugh harder. Shaking your head in disbelief, you covered your smile with your hand.

"Spencer, I was joking," you said, suddenly feeling guilty that your sarcasm had led him to spend time and effort preparing for a night out. "There’s no way I'm going out in this cold. I’d rather dive headfirst into boiling water, at least that would be warmer."

“Oh,” he let out a short, disappointed sigh. He quickly nodded, as if trying to accept the situation, and forced a more neutral expression. “I—I really thought you were serious. Sorry for... for waking you up, then.”

For a moment, you stood in silence, your hand resting on the doorframe. An odd, unexpected thought sprinted through your mind. It had been such a long time since the two of you had been together like this, late at night, in the same room...

“Well, in that case,” he cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry again. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Forget I came here and embarrassed myself. That’s all. Sorry. I should probably go if I want to avoid being completely sleep-deprived tomorrow...”

“Go where?” you interrupted, suddenly standing straighter, alarmed.

“Aurora hunting.”

“By yourself? Spencer, have you lost your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth, caught off guard by your outburst.

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll ever get another chance like this, being in the Arctic Circle...”

“It’s pitch dark and freezing cold. You don’t know the area—”

“...I’ve had a chance to look around, and I’m not going far. There’s a small hill just behind the inn—”

“...And there’s a freaking serial killer on the loose around here, did you forget?”

“Well, I have a gun.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go,” you cut him off firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. Spencer tilted his head, clearly ready to argue further, but before he could speak, you added, “Give me five minutes.”

“What?”

“Five minutes to get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

At first, you could have sworn a faint smile flickered across his lips. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head vehemently.

“No, really, you don’t have to. Not just because of me. I’ll be fine…”

"Five minutes," you repeated once more, slightly flustered and trying not to dwell on the fact that the moment you stepped outside, you’d likely regret this decision. “Wait here. Or come inside—I don’t want to shut the door in your face.” As you spoke, you opened the door wider, inviting him in.

Without wasting another second, you headed straight for your suitcase. Okay, how many layers does one need for a night outside in Alaska?

“I actually bought a set of thermal underwear specifically for this case,” you said, pulling out the essentials from your bag. Most of what you’d worn during the day would work fine, but you debated adding an extra sweater and another pair of socks. “And, oh my God, I hate it. I’d rather wear lace thongs 24/7 than spend more than eight hours in this bugger.”

You glanced subtly over your shoulder, curious to see his reaction and waiting for his reply. It wasn’t like you wanted to embarrass him, but you absolutely adored how, in response to even your most suggestive remarks, he could always respond with complete seriousness—like he was dissecting some profound issue. Judging by the furrow of his brow, this time would be no different.

“Really? You know, thermal underwear is generally associated with comfort. The fabric is typically elastic, soft, and breathable. High-quality models are even seamless, so they don’t cause any chafing. Maybe you bought a poorly fitted one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I have no expertise in this area. It digs in so much, though, and I have to keep myself from adjusting it. Can you imagine me sticking my hand in my pants right in front of the missing boy’s family?”

He hesitated before responding.

“Not really. But I can picture Hotch’s face.”

“And I can picture a termination notice on my desk the next day,” you quipped.

You grabbed all the clothes you had gathered and disappeared into the bathroom to layer them on. It wasn’t a quick job—by the end, you felt like your movements were completely restricted by the weight of it all—but at least you were prepared. When the first merciless blast of Alaskan air brushed against the tiny exposed part of your face, it didn’t immediately make you want to run back inside screaming.

Instead, you sighed in awe.

"I know I’ve invoked God's name a hundred times already, but God, this is beautiful," you said, feeling your own words too inadequate to describe the miracle above your heads. The streaks of light stretching across the sky, an intense green with a certain transparency, a glassy quality, the stars peeking through it all.

Spencer turned to you over his shoulder. He was only a couple of steps ahead, but he kept doing it as if afraid that in a moment of not seeing you, you'd fall into the snow and disappear forever.

“Wait until we get to the spot,” he said, his smile clearly excited. In his dark eyes, the light seemed to reflect and stay there, even when he blinked, as though he had already absorbed it all deep inside. “It’s only ten minutes away, but it makes a difference.”

"I hope you're not one of those people who says, 'Oh, it's just around the corner, we don't need a cab!' and then leads you to walk halfway across the city" you scoffed. You tried to keep your gaze fixed on his back, his lantern swinging in his hand. Alaska, the vast empty terrain, the thick layers of snow, seemed to hide some sort of mystery beneath them, and it filled you with a fair amount of fear. "Will you shield me with your chest if a bear jumps out at us?"

"Actually, yes, I would," he replied. "But not because of heroism, it's more because I have bear spray in my pocket, and by that very fact, it's probably my duty."

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you protect us from a potential bear attack, and I’ll take care of Bigfoot. By the way, that legend never really scared me. A monkey with gigantic feet just sounds too ridiculous to me. Remember that episode of History's Mysteries that we watched at your place?"

You both shared a love for a certain TV show about conspiracy theories and famous mysteries from around the world.

"Of course. You know part of it was filmed right here in Fairbanks? Bigfoot never really fascinated me either, but I liked that at the end of the episode they also mentioned other Alaskan legends. Like The Kushtaka, for example."

"I don't remember that. But I'm not sure I want you to tell me," you confessed, taking a breath, the cold biting into your lungs. Despite the layers of clothing, it was getting colder and colder, but at least you'd finally reached the spot Spencer had chosen. He was right; the vast plain on the small hill was perfect for watching the aurora. You had the feeling that the sky was only an inch above your head, and a childlike urge to reach up and touch it. "Alright, you've got me too intrigued. Go ahead."

You noticed that, unlike you, Spencer wasn't tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. He was looking at you.

"The Kushtaka is a creature from the folklore of the surrounding tribes. It is most often described as a hybrid of a human and an otter..."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Otters, seriously? Is that supposed to chill me to the bone?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Okay, let me tell you the story differently," he proposed in a similar tone, swallowing as if to prepare himself for the tension-building drop in his voice. "Just like now, we're heading out to see the northern lights. Just the two of us, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The sky is overcast that day, and there’s hardly any light to see." At that moment, he switched off the flashlight he was holding, and his previously well-lit face faded into obscurity. You crossed your arms over your chest, silently promising yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being scared.

“In this story, do my thermal undies also ride up so uncomfortably?”

“Your underwear isn’t a significant part of this tale. Anyway… crap, where was I?”

“The thought of my underwear distracted you?”

You heard him sigh, almost in exasperation, and a sly smile spread across your face.

“Let me continue. No more comments about underwear.”

“My underwear or in general?”

“SO WE’RE HEADING TO SEE THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. It’s dark, it’s creepy, and you’ve got chills running down your spine. Then suddenly, you realize you’ve lost me.”

“Phew,” you exhaled with theatrical relief. “Finally got rid of that creep who kept obsessing over my underwear.”

"You know what, I’m done. I’m done. I won’t tell you the story about the human-otter hybrid."

“I’m devastated by this fact!” you assured him in the same overly dramatic tone. Taking it a step further, you jumped toward him, desperately grabbing the fabric of his jacket. “Dr. Reid, please, I beg you, tell me about the human-otter hybrid. I need this. I’ll sell my soul and body, just please…”

Spencer threw his head back, laughing, and as you tried to calm yourself down, you leaned against him. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance, sending both of you toppling into the snow.

“Damn, we’re going to be wet!” he groaned, trying to get up from the deep snowdrift you both had fallen into. It wasn’t the easiest task with all the layers of clothing and a girl who was dying of laughter on top of him.

“I think that’s enough of our aurora watching,” you said once you both finally managed to get back on your feet. Despite the ski pants and very, very warm clothes, you were starting to feel frozen. “And enough of your legends. It’s late, and we should head back.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, sounding like a little puppy that had been scolded for peeing on the carpet.

“You can tell me on the way,” you replied. “Come on.”

You sent one last glance toward the sky before moving forward, your mind focused entirely on the vision of a hot, soothing bath and a blanket with an extra layer for warmth. For the rest of the walk, Spencer didn’t try to use his low voice or mysterious narrative tone. He finished the story in his usual manner, sounding more like a fascinated lecturer. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—he had sounded really sexy earlier, you had to admit.

When you both got back to the guesthouse, you glanced at the stairs leading up to your room and shook your head in refusal.

“If I don’t get under at least five blankets right this second, I’m going to die, so sorry my dear, but I’m coming to you and I won’t leave until I’m warm, or I’ll never leave at all,” you said quickly and firmly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow but replied just as energetically.

“I don’t think I have five blankets in my room.”

“Three will be fine.”

And that's exactly how it went. First, you took off your jackets, and then, in your typical everyday clothes, you quickly jumped into bed, covered with the duvet up to your neck, waiting for the pleasant warmth to spread across your bodies.

“Was seeing the aurora worth all that suffering?' you asked, turning onto your side in bed so you could face him.

'Well, it wouldn't have been suffering if someone hadn't shoved both of us into the snow...'

He said this while lying on his back, but shortly after these words, he followed your lead and also turned onto his side. Your breath became shallower. It had been almost a year since you last had him this close, almost a year since you slept together, and then decided to let the situation fade into oblivion.

Honestly, you almost succeeded. After all, that incident was like every other encounter you had with guys. Spontaneous, one-time, followed by bolting. But you didn’t see those other guys afterward. Every day at work, forced to watch him wipe his glasses, his damn glasses, with the same fingers he…

“Are you thinking about something specific?” he suddenly asked, his voice eerily similar to the one he used to tell you the story on the hill, a voice you found so sexy.

That was the kind of man Spencer Reid was. Always wanting to know what was going on inside your head.

You sighed, probably too loudly.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking right now,"

You felt a little pathetic, realizing that your whole excuse about not being able to go to your room was just a pretext to end up in his bed. Once again. This whole trip to Alaska must have really messed with your head. Or maybe it cleared the fog in your mind and left a single thought, naked and defenseless. You wanted him.

"I know how pathetic that sounds, but I always want to know what you're thinking," he replied after a moment, swallowing audibly. You heard it clearly, you were so close. So close...

You had to make a quick decision: whether to continue and face the consequences the next day, or, perhaps worse, to be rejected? It was possible that he had learned from your last time together, and didn’t want to get involved with you that way.

"I can show you what I'm thinking," you finally proposed, not blinking for a long moment, just carefully studying the features of his face, any signs of uncertainty or tension.

Because there was that one small seed of probability that he wanted you too.

His lips parted, but were immediately covered by your kiss.

Slow and curious. How did he taste after all this time?

Maybe it was a thought whispered by the moment, but you had the feeling that even better.

You didn’t play the role of a taster for too long. Soon, still not pulling his lips away from yours, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your elbow on the bed, pressing closer to him with every passing moment, more intensely and hungrily.

Something seemed to haunt you, preventing you from moving any further. Something in his posture—lying on his back, surrendered to your control, yet somehow absent.

You pulled away from his lips, your gazes meeting. There was a certain weakness and sadness in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you managed to ask, your voice strangely trembling.

Spencer suddenly sat up, straightening himself, though there was still a slight bend in his shoulders. His movement forced you to pull away from his chest.

"I can't do this," he confessed quietly, taking a deep breath. "I can't sleep with you." In a way, it hurt more than if he had simply refused to let you kiss him. Your forehead furrowed in disappointment and... shock?

"Why?" you asked directly, foregoing any excuses about not aiming for that. Because you had been.

He let out a laugh, filled with pity.

"Because after this, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you. And you, after tonight, won’t want me anymore."

You were breathing heavily, completely unsure of what to say. His words were painfully eye-opening, first and foremost. And secondly... true. Because did you plan, like a normal person, to wake up next to him, greet him, date him? That wasn’t how you operated. In your plans, there was always just one option—escape. Exactly like that time.

You slowly began to slide off the bed, his hand moved to reach for yours, and you hoped he would take it, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him, yet you didn’t look at him the whole time. You sounded stiff, almost reproachful, even though you were the one who should be reproached. You were the problem.

You looked around the floor, used to picking up your clothes from it, but this time there was nothing. Except for the jacket hung up and the ski pants you’d pulled on over your regular ones to avoid freezing in the cold night. Leaving without a word seemed excessive.

Your back rested against the door as you turned to look at him. Your quick-thinking mind raced, searching for something to say to at least salvage some dignity in this situation…

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen,” you finally suggested.

Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up or stay there. Eventually, it seemed like he stayed, though you weren’t sure, having already turned toward the door, your hand pressing on the doorknob.

“T-think that’s the best solution,” he admitted, just as one of your feet stepped into the hallway.

Then, you heard someone whistling.

You immediately stepped back into his room, keeping your face turned toward the door.

“Damn, it’s Morgan,” you said, recognizing the person in the hallway by the sound alone. “We better not let him see me leave, or he’ll never leave us alone…”

You expected that when you turned around, you’d find him still sitting on the bed. After all, you hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t heard him approach. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you turned, his lips would almost immediately attack yours.

It was so unexpected, so sudden, that the back of your head slammed against the door.

“Fuck, sorry…”

But you didn’t think for a second about the pain, nor did you focus on why Spencer had suddenly changed his mind. Your attention was solely on the two of you, two desperate pairs of lips pressing together and pulling apart, never staying away for long.

He pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. Unlike the last time, it was your back that hit the mattress first. The cool surface, the heated bodies, and the weight of the layers of clothing between you both.

"You've changed," you noticed.

A different dynamic. The pace was set by him—just moments ago, you were standing by the door, and now, half of your clothes were gone, while the soft skin of your neck was buried under a cascade of messy, impatient kisses.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his face hovering above yours, one hand resting on the bed next to it.

"I haven't gotten enough to say for sure," you replied, teasingly. "But I get the feeling you're more confident now. A lot of practice since last time?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think it's about practice," he said, his hand sliding down your side until it stopped at the waistband of your pants, lingering there but not moving any lower. You reached for his hand, brushing against it before trailing your fingers along its length up to his forearm, feeling one of his veins beneath your fingertips. "I guess... I was just scared you'd leave, and I had to stop you somehow. That’s why I rushed," he admitted.

His gaze lingered mostly on your face, but it wandered across your body, his frustration clear as he eyed the layers of clothing still in his way. Something about his desperation and impatience stirred something playful in you, and you couldn’t resist teasing him.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you tilted your chin to look at him.

“If I tried to leave right now, how would you stop me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your question, but he decided to play along, nodding thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Care to show me?” you asked, your voice dripping with challenge.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at you, until he allowed himself that first, utterly shameless drop of his gaze and a soft sigh. His lips began their journey, starting at their usual, safe spot on your neck, trailing toward your shoulder, and crossing over your collarbone with deliberate intent. You were still half-sitting, struggling to steady your breathing so your chest wouldn’t rise and fall too much or too quickly, trying not to disrupt him. The first hint of uncertainty appeared between your breasts when his kisses momentarily softened, carefully exploring unfamiliar territory and testing your sensitivity.

You struggled more and more to keep yourself from collapsing fully onto the mattress. But when his cool tongue met your skin, pressing against it so firmly that his forehead brushed against your stomach, relentlessly moving lower, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

He was between your knees, bent in anticipation. He reached them, sliding his hands down your thighs and coaxing them to relax. He fumbled a bit while unbuttoning your pants, and had trouble sliding them down while you were lying there. You lifted your hips to help, even tried to do it yourself, but he stopped your hands, placing them above your head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly, finally freeing your legs from both pant legs. His hands wrapped around your ankles, his thumb tracing gentle circles around one of them, which somehow completely seized your attention, and you focused solely on that subtle motion. For a moment, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you noticed that his chin was just above your panty line. "Actually, it will be much more pleasant for you if you just focus on feeling and nothing else. I was supposed to show you my ideas, remember?"

“As someone who apologized for being in too much of a hurry, you sure have an unexpectedly large amount of patience now,” you remarked with reproach, lifting your head again. Maybe keeping it down allowed for more comfort and relief for your neck, but on the other hand, the sight of his face immersed between your thighs was simply priceless.

If the sight itself was priceless, how do you describe that feeling?

With every move of his tongue, your hips swayed, adjusted to the rhythm. Often tense, trying to find some outlet, especially when sighs escaped his lips and his cool breath penetrated through you.

"Think I'm gonna cume embarrassingly quickly," you confessed, unsure whether he even understood anything from your sentence, which was at least interwoven with two moans. Three.

When it happened, you uncontrollably squeezed his head with your knees, a similar groan also came from his mouth.

Spender didn’t stay in that position for long. When you opened your tightly shut eyelids, his face was right above yours, stretched in such satisfaction, as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

"Was it too quick for you?" he asked, still absorbing you with the same gaze, which seemed to pulse with desire. "If you want, we can try again, you’ll surely improve..."

"My God, when did you become so cocky?"

He chuckled, but instead of answering, he once again pressed himself against your body and skin, closing his eyes in devotion and lingering on each spot for as long as it took, as if he could never be satisfied, no matter how much he took in.

Your hands, instead of tormenting the innocent fabric of the blanket, moved to his back, tightly embracing his neck and basically everything they could latch onto. All of his earlier composure seemed to evaporate; you didn’t even have to ask twice to make him slide in. It actually sounded more like an order than a request, a bit desperate, it's true, but still an order.

"How is it even possible that it feels even better than the last time?” His words, his lips, ticked your neck as he moaned out this question. "Just... I feel like I won’t have enough of you tonight."

"The night is long," you said, almost into the air, not really paying attention to the meaning behind it. "Tomorrow night too."

Spencer stopped, completely. His eyes desperately searched for yours, and when he finally found them, they widened in disbelief.

"Tomorrow night too?" he repeated. "But I thought... I thought you didn't want anything more than a one-night fling…”

"It's already our second," you reminded him. "And I'll be completely honest with you, I don’t want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of you. Let's make a deal, okay?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it in a moment, but right now...Oh God, I think I’m gonna…”

You both got dressed right after, but not because either of you intended to leave. The temperature inside simply didn’t allow for sleeping naked, no matter how warm you were after sex.

"So?" he asked, handing you the piece of paper you had sent him to the bathroom for. Then he sat on the bed, facing you. "What did you mean by this deal?"

"Well, after thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's a good idea after all..."

"I want to know, even if just out of curiosity."

"You want to know everything, Spence. But fine. I thought maybe... while we're in Alaska, we could just, you know, allow ourselves to do whatever we want. In more direct terms, fuck each other as much as we want.”

It sounded a bit...crazy? Spencer kept his gaze suspended in the air for a moment before turning it back to you, questioning.

"But only as long as we're in Alaska?"

"Exactly. Since there's only one floor between us, why not take advantage of it?" you tried to joke, lightening the mood.

It didn’t seem to have much effect on him.

"But what happens next? When we get back?"

"Do we really have to think about that?" you wondered, moving closer to him, to the body that just moments ago made you feel so good. "We'll get used to being apart, just like before."

"Okay," he sucked in a breath, clearly torn over the proposal. "I mean, no, I didn’t mean okay... because it doesn’t seem like a great idea, but on the other hand... on the other hand, I really, really want you, even if it only means for this short time."

You smiled, though deep down, somewhere very deep, there was something somber in that gesture.

Ignoring that, you kissed him to seal the deal. And not just that.

"That was for good night and goodbye."

"Goodbye? You're leaving?" A clear look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of it. "Good night, then."

"It's not that I don't want to stay. It's just that it would be better to be well-rested for work, and I don't think we'd sleep properly if I decided to spend the night here. “

You saw him open his mouth, ready to protest, but you had already gotten up from the bed and started gathering your remaining things.

"Wait," he called as you were about to leave. "You said... you said something that's been bothering me, you know? I can even quote it, so listen up. You said that you don't want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of me."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don’t understand what you meant by that. What in my behavior makes you feel that way?"

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you someday. Maybe it's better if you're not aware of it."

"Hey, now I won’t be able to sleep!"

"Anyway, good night, sweet boy."

Almost the first thing in the morning, you found yourselves at the local police station, full of disappointment and anxiety. You had to inform the parents of the missing boy found in the forest that he had been located. But unfortunately, it was not good news.

The first hours of the day passed in constant analysis and discussion, until finally, around noon, you gathered in front of the town's police officers, ready to deliver the profile. You didn’t have much time for any reflection on the previous night, or even for a conversation with Spencer. A sober one this time, when you weren’t intoxicated by desire and each other.

You stood in the corner of the room, listening to Hotch and Gideon.

"The UNSUB is a white male, likely with military experience or, at the very least, extensive survival skills, estimated to be around 50-60 years old. He abducts teenagers, boys, and young men who look younger than their actual age, which suggests he doesn’t know his victims very well."

"If he observes them, it’s for a short period. He doesn’t have time to get to know them but understands their routine and daily schedule well enough to know when to strike."

"He doesn’t drug his victims, which means he is physically capable of abducting them without assistance. This ties into the type of victims he selects. All these boys were more the intellectual type than athletes. When abducted, they were coming from school, tutoring sessions, or the library. David Moore, for instance, was tall but lanky. His family described him as gentle, with a big heart and a passion for learning."

"The UNSUB abandons them in remote forest locations. Forcing them to fight for survival gives him a sense of control and serves as a way to prove his belief that modern society and boys today are incapable of handling adversity. He openly despises them, viewing them as weak and effeminate. His mindset reflects a toxic approach to gender roles and what he considers the traditional male archetype."

“White men aged 50-60 with survival skills make up about half the population here,” a policeman noted. “Take me, for example…”

Hotch began providing more detailed information, while Gideon stepped out of the center of the room, and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

You approached Reid, who was sitting in a chair, and ruffled his hair with your hand.

“Watch your back, genius-boy,” you warned, standing behind him. From his seat, he tilted his head all the way back to look up at you. A smile instantly appeared on his face.

“You might just be next. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“So, you think I’m effeminate?”

"I know very well that you're not. But you do have that intellectual spark in your eyes. And, you know, those glasses don’t help."

Ever since you’d been in Alaska, he’d worn them less often because, as he’d told you while chatting in bed, they kept fogging up. But now, they were perched on his nose, making him look... delectable. Simply delectable.

The rest of your team approached, Elle's gaze lingering on your hand resting on the back of Reid's chair. As usual, she had to notice everything.

"I need to send you all to a few places to check out some individuals the police have identified as matching the profile," Hotch announced. "Y/N and Elle, I’d like you to speak again with the bus driver who drove David Moore just before he was abducted. Once he understands the profile, he might be able to recall more details."

You lingered in the room, wanting to exchange a word with Spencer. In complete privacy... He was slowly wiping his glasses, as if hoping for the same. Watching the movements of his hands, you shook your head.

"This is it—what you asked me about yesterday. What makes me sexually frustrated. Our agreement still stands, right?" you asked, running your hand along his shoulder, just to touch him. Even though the many layers of clothing made it almost impossible to really feel him.

He looked at the glasses he was cleaning, then at you, disbelief written all over his face.

"That's what you meant? Cleaning glasses?"

"Don't judge me. It's about the motion. Or maybe the glasses themselves, I don't know. Maybe I’m a fetishist. Anyway, are you going to answer my question?"

Still seated in the chair, he had to tilt his head back to look at you, which reminded you—just a little, okay, a lot—of another situation where he was down below.

"What about you?" he countered. "You haven’t changed your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d answered differently. See you tonight, then,” you promised, glancing around the room to make sure none of your team members were still there. Just a few local officers... who weren’t paying much attention to you. Even if they were, it wasn’t their business.

You leaned in quickly to kiss him. He closed his eyes, as if hoping for more.

“Not now, and not here. I need to go find Elle. Hotch gave us an assignment. Have a good one.”

You walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.

You found your friend in the car, one of those suited for tough terrain, with high tires. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her nails on it.

"So, what was the address of that driver?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt.

"Forgive my bluntness, darling, but I’ll die if I don’t know. What was that all about?"

"What do you mean, ‘What was that all about’?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Messing with his hair, the chair, the looks. Are you two sleeping together again?"

You technically had no reason to hide anything from her, after all, you trusted her completely and had never hesitated to talk about your sex life. But this time... you kind of liked the idea of keeping whatever happened between you and Spencer just between the two of you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just acting like we usually do," you said.

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling away from the police station, her gaze shifting between the road and you. "Then what were those sounds last night from his room?"

"Oh shit, did we make noise?"

She smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm just teasing you. I'm on a completely different floor. But I'll take that as an admission of guilt."

"Manipulative bitch!"

"I'll take that as a compliment. So?"

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh, but eventually, you confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

"I thought you didn't sleep with the same guy twice."

"The air in Alaska really does something strange to me."

"Sure. The air," she scoffed, and you furrowed your brows in slight confusion, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. The car glided along one of those completely empty, snow-covered roads where there was nothing to focus on. "You know, I wonder why you just don't admit that you like him?"

"I don't hide the fact that I like him."

"Then why not give it a try?"

"Try what, Elle?"

She glanced at you sideways, her lips tightening at your obviously irritated tone. She didn't mean to upset you, of course, but that's how you felt. She sighed, as if thinking about how to approach the subject.

"You've learned to live with it," she finally began, slowly and cautiously weighing her words. "With that fear. Of intimacy and commitment."

"It's just a preference."

"No, it's not a preference. It's fear. You're afraid that if you get emotionally close to someone, you'll be abandoned, and you don't want to risk another painful loss. You want to have full control over the relationship and disappear when you feel like it's fading. Usually in the morning. It's a common mechanism, and it's not just about you. And no mechanism can be broken without making an attempt."

"Elle, stop. You're profiling me, and you know how much I hate that."

And actually, you hated being confronted with the truth about yourself and being internally forced to draw conclusions about yourself.

It was easy, living without reflecting on oneself. Especially when those reflections were painful. You could hurt yourself, unsuccessfully trying to confront them, or flow along with their current, completely subordinated to them and deaf to the words of others, who said you were only hurting yourself in the bigger picture.

Elle dropped the subject, as you had arrived at the house of the man you were supposed to interview. She didn’t bring it up again afterward. The hours at work passed, and you only waited for that specific moment when you'd cross the threshold of that room again.

The previous night danced vividly in your mind, never slowing down or taking a break for a moment. As soon as he opened the door, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his face, and unbuckling his belt.

Spencer took a sharp breath, shocked and amused, as soon as you touched him.

"It would be incredibly awkward if someone were at my place right now," he chuckled into your mouth, half of his sentence drowned out by your kiss.

You pulled your face away just slightly, raising your eyebrows. It was only then that you noticed he was wearing glasses. Oh, he was so completely unaware of what you were about to do to him...

"How many people do you bring to yourself every night?" you asked.

"In that regard, only you. Besides, this is only the second time, so I wouldn’t call it every night... but I could always be here with someone, talking..."

"Keeping each other warm," you added.

Your hands slid under the fabric of his clothes, brushing the lower part of his stomach.

He noticeably tensed under your fingers, swallowing slowly, impatient and pleading.

"Engaging in a worldview discussion and exchanging conclusions," he finished, a smile playing on his lips.

"Uh-huh. Exactly like we are now. Honestly, does that turn you on? Do you want me to share my political views while you’re eating me out?”

"This is probably the only scenario in which you could make me not feel pleasure because of it."

His hands hesitated, roaming uncertainly across your body, unsure of where to start. They brushed over so many spots, moving from one to the next, chaotic and desperate.

You didn’t know where to focus – on the lips in the hollow of your neck, on the hand on your hips, or the other, slipping lower and lower?

Or perhaps on that sound, right by your ear, sweet, pleading whimper?

Moan left your body just for that reason and you already knew how you wanted the rest of the night to unfold.

You gently pushed him back, and with quickened breath, you dropped to one knee, then the other.

"After yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about you," you confessed, making sure your lips were close enough to his body as you spoke. You heard him inhale sharply, whispering something under his breath. "I couldn't focus on work at all. So today, I want to take care of you, completely."

You thought he would be satisfied with the offer; well, it was hard to deny that he was. Still, for some reason, he started shaking his head.

"N-no, that's not... I want to do it. Take care of you, I mean."

You couldn’t stop smiling, but at the same time, you weren’t about to back down, which should probably be enough to describe the dynamics of the following hours.

At times, it was brutally slow, while at other moments, it was hurried and impressive. Sometimes, you interrupted each other constantly, unable to stop talking, and at other times, the only sound filling the room was your two breaths, the only constant, restless, and laced with moans and cries.

"You’re not leaving me tonight, right?" he asked, drawing closer to your body and holding you almost pleadingly. You laughed against his skin, shaking your head in denial.

"At some point, I will have to. For about fifteen minutes, before everyone wakes up."

"You’ll say you just came by for something. To ask a question or something," he tried to convince you.

"Oh, at this early hour, looking like I’ve just done a two-hour workout? Derek would eat us alive. His eyebrow would never drop again. If I ever end up in hell, it will be with him there, looking at me like that." You tried to mimic his expression, tensing your jaw as you did.

"Stop, I feel harassed."

"You see? And if he found out about us, this is how the next... God, I can’t even predict when he’d get tired of it. Maybe in a year. Do you want to suffer for another whole year just to be with me for an extra fifteen minutes?"

"I’d be able to survive that," he declared quietly, placing his hand under your head and playing with your hair with one of his fingers. "But if you don’t want it, I’m not going to waste time and try to convince you."

"Sure," you scoffed playfully. "So many things could be done in that time."

"Like what?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Try to sleep. What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing, nothing. But you used a plural in that sentence and then only gave one thing. So, I’m waiting for the rest."

"That’s an overinterpretation."

"More like a simple analysis of sentence structure."

"Maybe sometimes it's better to analyze a little less. Spencer."

"I don’t think I’m capable of that," he admitted, his tone a little more serious. You furrowed your brow, looking at his pale face in the weak light, showing signs of the night’s exhaustion. "That’s just how my brain works. It doesn’t give me much time to rest."

You often wondered what the world looked like from his perspective. How, in many ways, his genius was both a revelation and a curse. But you’d never heard him complain about it—until now. In fact, it wasn’t even a complaint, just a statement of fact, somewhat melancholy.

You kissed the top of his head, hoping it would have a soothing effect.

And indeed, it worked. He moved even closer to you, rested his head, and after a moment, almost at the same time, your eyelids fell.

The morning passed slowly and longingly, even though you were still so close to each other. However, there was the awareness that with the arrival of the day, you would have to wait many, many hours before you saw each other again. In a similar way, you meant. After all, at work, you constantly spent time together, which only made everything more difficult. It would have been much easier to push him out of your head and focus, if it weren’t for that.

Meanwhile, Spencer, perhaps trying to gently play on your nerves, cleaned his glasses much more often than necessary. But there was also the possibility that he was doing it the same amount as usual, and you were just imagining it.

"Are you doing that again?" Morgan nodded in his direction as a greeting when you were sitting in the guesthouse room that served as your team's meeting place. There was a long table in there, similar to the one in your office, but much narrower. Sitting across from Reid, you could easily touch his hand. If you wanted to. "Is this some new nervous tic of yours? Polishing them?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer furrowed his brow in mock surprise, stopping the corner of his mouth from twitching. You kicked him under the table, and he couldn’t suppress a gasp.

To hide your amusement, you covered your face with your hand, but Morgan immediately picked up on it.

"Is this some new inside joke of yours?"

"He’s literally just polishing his glasses, leave him alone," you said.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in the same way you had imitated him the night before. Neither of you could hold it in and burst into laughter.

"What’s going on?" JJ asked, walking into the room.

"Something very strange is going on," Derek announced mysteriously, staring at you both intently. His hands were resting on his hips, and his head tilted in thought. "Something very strange..."

Then Hotch arrived, even more serious than usual, which immediately dispelled the good mood. The rest of the team also arrived—Elle and Gideon—and everyone took their seats at the table.

"In the past few hours, there hasn’t been any concerning missing person reports," Hotch informed you. "On one hand, that’s good; on the other, it means the unsub will strike again soon. And we can’t let that happen."

"And you even have a plan," Gideon stated, with some sort of understanding in his eyes.

Hotch looked at you all with hesitation before nodding in confirmation.

"That's right, I have. I've concluded that we have no choice but to set a trap."

At those words, his gaze rested on Spencer, which was enough for you to figure it all out even before the main subject did.

"With all due respect, Hotch, have you lost your mind?!"

And how exactly do you envision this?" Elle asked, not as shaken as you but clearly concerned. "Sure, he fits the profile of his victims, but how is he supposed to set himself up? Walk around town and hope to get kidnapped?"

"At least two of the victims were abducted on the same stretch of road, after getting off the bus at the same isolated bus stop while walking home alone. It’s an exceptionally safe location for him," your boss explained.

"Honestly, I’m not convinced," Derek interjected, staring ahead with a furrowed brow. "I just don’t think he’d use the exact same spot again. Word has probably spread around the area that the FBI is on the case. He might be more cautious and change his methods."

"But he might just as well try again," JJ said quietly. You looked at her with clear surprise, as you had expected that, with her characteristic care for the team, she would be against the idea. "Right now, it’s the only thing we can do to try to prevent another abduction."

You drew a breath, understanding her arguments but remaining entirely opposed. Your gaze finally fell on Spencer, for the first time since the idea had even been brought up. He was sitting very upright, his brow furrowed, and he slowly began nodding.

"JJ’s right, it’s the only thing we can do," he said. He wasn’t looking at Hotch, nor even at the team as a whole—he was looking at you, directly and only at you. A calming, slightly nervous smile crossed his face, making you scoff. "Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ll all be around, on the bus, near the stop."

With his words, the decision was made, and all you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

"I want to be on the same bus," you declared desperately, crossing your arms over your chest. You simply couldn’t reconcile with the fact that Spencer was willingly putting himself in harm's way—especially when the unsub's desire was to hurt people like him. "I’ll pose as a civilian. A random young woman. I shouldn’t seem like a threat, and someone from our team has to be inside."

"You’re right," Hotch replied, looking at you with sharp attention. "But it will be Elle."

You and your friend exchanged a confused look, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I don’t think it makes much of a difference," she tried to intervene, which made you feel grateful.

Although, it didn’t change anything…

"I’m not obligated to explain myself to you about this decision, especially in front of the entire team. This is an order," Hotch announced with almost brutal professionalism. "The only thing I can say is that we need someone who won’t break character until the very end. Someone who won’t let emotions cloud their judgment."

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" Gideon asked, directing the question at Spencer. His tone was understanding, prepared to accept any refusal without judgment.

This time, he didn’t look at you. As Spencer nodded in confirmation, he actually avoided your gaze.

"Then we have the whole day to prepare for the sting. Let’s hope this leads to catching the unsub," Hotch concluded the meeting, signaling that you could leave the table.

You were torn between staying and screaming at your boss or leaving the room after Reid. Well, the second option wouldn’t get you fired. And, honestly, it seemed like the better choice. It turned out he wanted to talk to you too, as he was clearly waiting for you in the narrow hallway of the inn, where animal antlers hung on the walls and an informational board about moose was displayed.

"Are you angry because I want to do this?" he asked, the narrow walls around you making you stand quite close. Well, not as close as you could be, but close enough to add gravity to the conversation and allow you to study his face carefully.

Especially his determination. The determination for this job, for solving the case, and for preventing others from suffering the same tragic fate at the hands of this killer. Finally, you understood that your reaction was a bit irrational. Because if the victims were young women with your looks... you’d agree to it without hesitation. Some hypocrisy, huh?

"No. I'm just terrified that you're going to do this," you confessed, your honesty and concern making his face twitch in surprise. You snorted, trying to ease the tension. "I’m angry at Hotch for calling me emotionally unstable in front of all of you."

Spencer smiled gently, though there was stress hiding behind it. He may have been determined to go through with it, but that didn’t change the fact that there was fear accompanying him. He tried not to show it, but anyone in his position would feel it.

"Well, in his defense, he phrased it a bit more subtly."

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arm out to gently touch his forearm. As your hand slid up, you leaned in a little, the simple gesture helping you feel more grounded and at ease.

His gaze followed your movements with a gentle satisfaction. You didn’t pull him closer, you were simply stroking his arm in that easy, caring way that calmed both of you.

"You’ve never done this before, have you?" you asked quietly. "You’ve never put yourself in this position like this."

He shook his head in denial.

"I’m really... really worried that I’ll do something wrong and we won’t be able to catch him because of me."

"You should worry about yourself, Spencer. Not about that. I’m sure you’ll play your part better than anyone could. "But I really regret that I won’t be able to be right next to you, in case something goes wrong."

His lips parted and closed in a kind of... amusement?

"I was going to say that maybe Hotch could be convinced, but then I realized, no, he won’t be. No matter what you say. And besides, having you there wouldn’t let me focus fully."

"I’m aware of that," you joked, tossing your hair dramatically. "After all, I look stunning."

"I was more referring to the fact that I’d be focused only on making sure nothing happens to you, but yeah. That’s one of the reasons too."

You fell silent, oddly moved by that confession. It was so simple, driven by care, affectionate. And it definitely made your head spin in the context of your relationship. You shook your head, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. As long as you were in Alaska, you could afford anything. After that, who knows.

You swallowed and put on a playful expression, it came with some effort, but you managed.

"Okay, genius-boy. Let me prepare you. You need to know how to behave."

"I thought I was just supposed to be myself," he noted, letting you pull him by the wrist.

"Well, mostly, yes. But it's still better to rehearse, get you into character. Don't you have any random fun facts to share?"

"I always have some fun facts to share. An endless amount."

"We'll see."

For the rest of the day, up until the inevitable moment of setting the trap for the unsub, you listened carefully to everything he had to say. His constant chatter allowed him to occupy his mind, pushing the stress aside to the point that, when it was time for him to head to the designated location, he seemed almost surprised that the hour had come. Only then did certain shadows begin to cross his face.

You paced restlessly around the inn as the whole team prepared. Your task was to take a position with Gideon at a certain distance from the bus stop, to cut off the unsub's escape route if necessary. The bus driver had agreed to cooperate, and JJ was giving him instructions, asking him to act as naturally as possible. There were to be no civilians on board, only Elle and a few inconspicuous local police officers. Hotch and JJ planned to follow the bus from a distance by car. Morgan was to lay low at the bus stop, also posing as a civilian.

You moved closer to Spencer, breathing heavily, his presence alone calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him just before you were about to leave. Morgan gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and everyone was still gathered around you. You gently hugged him, just as any other friend would, just like Elle and JJ had moments before.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with appearances. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head in a strong, lingering embrace.

“Y/N, you and Gideon need to go now," Hotch interrupted.

As you were walking away, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he also gave Reid a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

It was a truly tense moment. You found yourself in a position where you had no visibility on what was happening inside the bus, nor could you gauge the gravity of the situation. All you could hear through the earpiece was Elle's whispered signal informing you that the suspect, fitting the profile, had just entered the vehicle.

And even though you didn’t have high hopes for the plan, everything unfolded exactly as it was meant to. Spencer exited the bus, and the unsub followed him. The suspect seemed intent on tracking him down that desolate, shadowy road, planning to attack and abduct him. But at the last moment, Reid turned, and before the man could react, he was surrounded by the police.

On your last night in Alaska, you found yourself on top, with his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his hands placed on your hips, and in a position where you could look at each other and talk.

"You really did great today," you praised, leaning in to gently kiss his collarbone.

He didn't seem flattered by your words, no smile on his lips, just that sad, aching expression that caused you pain. Wanting to shake off the feeling, you quickened your movements, hoping it would work, but then he tightened his embrace, making you slow down once again.

"I want... I want to enjoy you," he said with a slightly embarrassed tone, his fingers tracing restless, tender circles on your bare skin. "Since this is our last time together."

For a moment, he gazed at your face, as if hoping you would say something. But he couldn't find any trace in your expression that would suggest you had changed your mind. The small, naive spark in his eyes faded. Elle's words about breaking the cycle echoed in your mind, but not in your heart. You couldn't turn them into reality; you simply couldn't. The agreement remained the agreement.

Once you returned, everything would go back to how it was before.

another author's note: I plan to create a tag list and I want to know who among you would like to be on it. please, let me know in the comments.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal mind #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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the-witty-pen-name · 2 months ago

Text

Your Guide Buck

Evan “Buck” Buckley x PlusSize!F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Synopsis: You’re a kindergarten teacher bringing your students to the 118 for a field trip, and Buck is your tour guide.

Warnings: mentions of body insecurity

A/N: I’m so far gone with my Buck obsession I hope I’m able to do him justice. Thank you @munsonsmixtapes for reading!

Your fifteen kindergarten students practically waddle behind you, discombobulated and energetic as you all approach the 118 Fire Station. You’re in the front of the line, holding the front of the walking rope as the kids hold on tightly to their designated handle. Your teacher’s assistant takes up the rear, making sure the kids stay in order as you guide them on your short walk from the school to the firehouse. The kids all start chattering loudly with excitement when they see the fire truck from the open garage door. Their little eyes go wide with wonder as you lead them inside. You stop and turn around to face the class and hold a finger over your lips and they all stand at attention.

“Remember friends, the firefighters might need to go at any second. So we aren’t going to wander or touch anything. You need to listen to Firefighter Buckley and follow his instructions. We’re going to stay together as a group, and we’re going to be on our best behavior, okay?”

The kids nod and some of them mimic your hand gestures back to you- their little way of showing you that they were paying attention. It’s always adorable and it makes your heart swell. You nod approvingly and lead the class into the station for them to immediately marvel at the sheer size of the fire truck. This field trip has already blown their minds and the tour hasn’t even started yet.

“Welcome!” A man emerges from a back room. “I’m Captain Nash,” he smiles, and the kids say ‘good morning Captain Nash’ back in unison making him smile wider. “Welcome to the 118, Firefighter Buckley will be giving you your tour today, but you can’t start the tour without wearing your gear.” He holds up a stack of children’s firefighter helmets, and he passes them out to each of the kids. They’re obsessed instantly, thinking that this is the coolest thing ever.

“Can you say thank you to Captain Nash?” you ask your class. They obediently say very enthusiastic thank you’s as their little voices echo throughout the main area of the building.

“You kids have fun, and Firefighter Buckley should be on his way down very soon,” Captain Nash says, making his exit back to what you're assuming is his office. In his absence, the kids begin to look at the large fire truck, their eyes trying to take it all in as they gather around. They point out the things they find particularly exciting or cool, while you and your Para take another quick headcount.

The kids squeal in excitement when Firefighter Buckley makes a grand entrance. He slides down the fire pole and they all erupt in cheers. They all clap when he lands effortlessly on his feet and he doesn’t hesitate to take a bow. Your cheeks feel immediately warm when he smiles at you, and you try your best to not let on. He’s so handsome.

You never understood the other teachers when they would dress up for days when there would be a fire drill. Now, it’s so blatantly obvious to you that it’s smacking you in the face that you should’ve made a little more of an effort than you did. You dressed prepared to chase six year olds down, but they’re so surprisingly well behaved today, you internally chastise yourself for not dressing cuter.

The second Buck sees you he feels like he can’t think straight for a moment. He thinks you might literally be the most gorgeous woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Then you smile at him and he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe. The moment lasted for maybe a couple of seconds if that, but it’s enough to have him feeling immediately flustered while your students all immediately compete for his attention. They’re a welcomed distraction so he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of you.

You’re able to command the attention of the kids once more, helping to calm down their excitement. You need to be “on” right now. You shift to full “teacher mode” because you are still working and you are responsible for these kids. Also, you need the distraction so you throw yourself into your job like you always do. Defeatedly, you don’t let yourself think about Firefighter Buckley more- you can’t let yourself. You know a guy like him would not ever be interested in you. So, it's better to pretend like you’re not interested so you don’t get hurt.

“Hi guys,” he says, looking towards the kids. “I’m Firefighter Buckley, but you can call me Buck.” His eyes look to you at the end of his sentence and he winks. You feel like you could evaporate where you stand. You try your best to ignore the butterflies you feel. You convince yourself he meant nothing by it.

“I’m so excited that I get to spend this morning with you guys,” he says with a grin. The kids take an immediate liking to him. He’s fun and energetic while not talking to them too much like their just kids. It’s a delicate balance and you’re so impressed at how he’s able to do it so effortlessly. “Let’s lay some ground rules…”

You’re zoning out as he talks to the kids, answering their questions about what they’ll get to see on the tour. You observe him as he keeps them engaged and it’s so incredibly attractive.

You assume that there’s no way this man is single, and even if he is, he wouldn’t be noticing you the same way you’re noticing him. You’re suddenly aware of your t-shirt, worrying it’s clinging to your midsection too much as you pull it out, stretching it away from your form. It’s a nervous habit you’ve developed that you can never seem to shake. You find yourself doing it subconsciously.

“May I?” He asks with a grin, gesturing to the walking rope in your hand. It shakes you out of your thoughts, and you offer him the handle. And you swear for a second, you see his eyes flicker- no. He wouldn’t have just checked you out. You think you must be going crazy. “Okay, who’s ready to tour the fire house!?” He says excited, pumping the kids up.

Buck leads the class and offers fun facts about firefighting and the firehouse as you go. He tells the kids about everything they stop to look at. You and your para keep the kids from wandering aimlessly, keeping them all walking in the right direction.

“He’s so cute,” your para whispers as he’s letting the kids take turns trying on his gear. “You should give him your number.”

“Absolutely not,” you cringe, keeping your voice low. “I’m not hitting on a guy when I’m on the clock, and also, he’s not interested.”

“You sure about that?” She chuckles. It was so obvious to her from the way he’d been looking at you that he was definitely interested. It would’ve been obvious to anyone- except you apparently.

Buck is letting the kids take turns trying on his jacket, and he needs to hold it in place for them so the weight of it isn’t too much. He really seemed like the perfect guy. It was unfair how he was just so unattainable. You hang back, letting the kids gather around Buck as they wait for their turn. You can take a moment to just watch the scene unfold and it’s just such a sweet sight. The kids are idolizing him and he’s so good and patient with them.

Buck can’t stop himself from stealing glances at you whenever he can. He desperately wants to ask you for your number, and he’s praying that you're single. As the kids pull his attention, his eyes drift to you as often as they can. He watches the way you look at the kids, with such adoration and love in your eyes. He can tell how much you care about your students and he already loves that about you.

As the tour wraps up, the kids are asking him more questions, some of them more outrageous than the next. He answers them all with a smile, matching the kids’ energy no matter what they say. You don’t even know how they think of some of this stuff.

Your para helps you get the kids ready for the walk back to school. She takes the lead on taking attendance and making sure everyone is holding the walking rope. As the kids are getting settled and ready to leave, Buck decides he needs to talk to you before you go- because he knows he’ll regret it if he chickened out.

“Thank you so much, you were great with them,” you compliment. He practically preens at your compliment.

“Oh, it was nothing- they’re great kids,” he said with a smile, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. He clears his throat, glancing at his boots. Was he… nervous?

“Listen- um, here,” he says holding up a finger for you to wait a second. He’s a little rushed, you notice. He scribbles something down on a piece of paper- then handing it to you. You swear you can see a blush on his cheeks. “In case, uh- you know, you guys ever want to come back. You can just call me- that’s my number.”

“Oh, like you’re extension?” You ask, tilting your head.

“No, uh,” he chuckles, “that’s my number.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, your face feeling unnaturally warm. You can’t help the smile that expands across your face as the realization sets in. “So, this is strictly for setting up another tour?” You ask, biting your lip to try to contain your smile.

“It’s for whatever you want.”

#evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x fem!reader #buck 911 #evan buckley x you #evan buck buckley #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley x reader #911 abc #buck x reader #x reader #x plus size reader #Oliver stark characters #Buck 911 fan fiction #evan buckley #Buck x reader fluff #911onabc

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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months ago

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Hello. If possible, then my application: what will a male Yautja do if a reader gets pregnant?

Adventures of the Outdoors

Pairings: Woftik (Male Yautja) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3250

Summary: Up in the north pole of Yautja Prime, sits a small tribe. Woftik is the chief. The two of you learn that you've become pregnant. With such a hard area to even survive in for a Yautja, Woftik worries about your safety and begs for you to stay home. You do... at first.

Author Note: Poor mans had to chase you all around to keep you safe.

Masterlist

Ao3

Taunted muscles pressed against the soft curve of your back. Warmth flooded over you skin, pushing away the cold that nipped at your fingers and toes. The top of your nose frozen with snot after bearing the freezing weather of the northern pole of Yautja Prime. You couldn’t help but sink back against his welcoming embrace.

“That hunt rewarded us and the tribe well,” you hold him before pulling off your gloves. He had already shed off his gear and came to help you. “I can start to turn the Mieks meat into jerky after you skin them.” Today had blessed the tribe with plenty of food. The tribe would be able to use the animals caught today for the next week at least.

Up in the pole, near the very tip of the planet laid harsh lands not designed for even the strong. It was a miracle that you were able to survive up here. Though, with the aid of Woftik’s tribe to ensure you don’t starve or freeze in the bitter weather.

These months were the worst out of the year. Where the sun rarely rose high enough to make an appearance. The land grows even colder. To hunt was next to impossible. Trapping and fishing were the only way to get your next meal. Even then, it was difficult to find a meal. If you would, the best bet was to halve it and store the rest. Who knows when the next Mike or fish will fall into your trap.

At your back, Woftik grunted then helped you shrug off the heavy, thick fur jacket off of your shoulders. The broad Yautja bent at the waist and shoved his face into the crook of your exposed neck. His large lungs filled to the brim with your scent. It had changed over the last month, to a smell he greatly enjoyed. His eyes closed. “Are you wanting the Mike or Tunk-oy for dinner? You must be starving after the haul today,” he murmured against your skin. You softly grabbed at one of his tresses that had fallen over your shoulders.

“You choose. I’m not picky tonight.” After teaching the white Yautja how to cook, Woftik took it to another level. During the warmer months, he had traveled to the nearest city and picked up some spices. There were still plenty left. You were excited for tonight because his food was to die for.

A lazy grumbled tumbled from his throat. Your thumbs gently caressed the rough texture of his prey tress. “Fish it is then,” he announced. One final deep breath of your intoxicating scent, he straightened up. “I shall skin our share then.” His hands lingered on your hips then he reluctantly pulled away towards the three Mike and two Tunk-oy that had been left at the door.

Woftik took the kills towards the kitchen. You, on the other hand, began to pick up the discarded gear. From fur jackets to weapons, you stored each item in their proper spot. The jackets went to the coat rack by the front door. The hunting gear like weapons or supplies to fix traps were returned to the trophy room where all of his gear was.

Skulls lined the walls in a particular order, even some being human. A thought that sat in the back of your head, not something you could get rid of. You wouldn’t ask him to take them down. There were trophies he was proud to display. He had earned them and had a right to display them. You shouldn’t ask him to take them down.

Once everything had been stowed away, you returned to the main area of the hut. Woftik had just finished up with the fillets and skinning once you came back. Perfect timing. You hover at his side and took a deep breath in. The good ol’ smell of fresh, raw meat. Not that you can eat any of it. It still smelled delicious.

Two piles of evenly divided meat had been spilt up. You took one pile for the jerky you would start today. “What’s the plan for tonight?” you asked as you began to prepare the special mixture used for the process.

“I have some leftover Lenat and some spices from my latest trip.” Your eyes sparkled. That wounded delicious… and a bit special. As if he was trying to butter you up.

Suspicion flickered to life in your eyes, narrowing on his white figure standing next to you. “Such a special meal,” you said to him, a hint of suspicion in your voice. “Makes me wonder, what’s the occasion?” You watched as his muscles tense, his hands still their actions. Caught him. Years of being around him have taught you plenty about the old chief.

Your name is said barely about a whisper. His shoulders sagged as his palms laid flat on the wooden counter. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say.” For a powerful species known to take what they wanted, he looked so soft and concerned in the moment. Like he was afraid to speak his mind. That worried you. What could he propose to you that could make him act this way?

Woftik released a sigh before turning to you with a gentle look. “With your pregnancy…” Instantly, the dots connected. “I worry about you going out there, even with me. Your scent is strong. Would bring predators looking for an easy meal. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you or the suckling. I couldn’t bear it.”

As a permeant mate, you are the most important thing on his list. Losing you would be like taking his heart straight out of his chest. He crowded into your space and cupped your face with both hands. Your face was tilted up to meet his dark eyes. The vulnerability in his strong eyes cracked at the slight hurt in yours.

Females would still hunt up to birth. They don’t show much nor does their scent change as drastically as humans. Woftik would tell almost immediately a month ago. A scan showed you to be nearly two months along. Just a tiny blob that was a hybrid. Crazy to think about. And after so many years with him, it had finally taken root. A miracle as the heal called it.

Your arms wrapped around his midsection in a tight embrace. His own slipped around you in return, feeling his strength. “I understand. I don’t want to lose you either if I have any say in it.” Though, internally you were sadden by the notion of no longer hunting or going out with Woftik until after the birth.

You listened to his wishes. For the first month.

The hut was small, meant to conserve all the heat in the space. It was made of large animal bones and pelts. Like the rest of everyone’s own home. The fact was it was small. He had his trophy room, the bedroom, and then the main part of the home. It was at most seven hundred square feet. All for two people to squeeze themselves into.

That drove you mad before learning to hunt. It was driving you insane to figure out how to entertain yourself with only a tablet and limited power. You craved for the outdoors, to be with Woftik as he hunted for the two of you, soon to be three now.

On the third month of your pregnancy, it grew to be too much. There wasn’t even paint to watch dry! Your belly hadn’t even bulged in the slightest to show that you were pregnant. There was nothing hindering you from hunting out there with Woftik.

That was it. Today’s gathering of snares and traps had started, but you couldn’t keep sitting at home any longer. You marched towards the front door and bundled yourself up tight. The colder months are beginning to wane, but it was still freezing out there. You pulled on your gloves before opening the flap to the front door.

Calm and beautifully icy lands stretched out further than the eye could see. You trekked out into the snow and glanced around. Only to find a few tribe members were outside, meandering around. Doing small jobs that the tribe needed done. Perfect. Maybe they had something you could do for them. Of course, you were more than happy to help.

A familiar face greeted you. Shantail was working on a pelt that would be added to her collection. The soft crunch of snow alerted her to your presence. She glanced at you for a second only to do a double take. The items in her hand were dropped. Your name was said in hate. “What are you doing out here? Is everything alright?” Shantail crowded into your space and scanned over you bundled up form.

A small laugh erupted from your throat. You shake your head to dismiss her worry. “Yeah, I’m all good. I’m not hurt or anything. I just wanted to see if you needed any help. Woftik’s got me on lockdown, but I can’t stay in there anymore.” There was nothing to do. With Woftik gone for most of the day, you needed company or even busy work.

Her worry toned down, hands dropping to her sides. Shantail shook her head. “You shouldn’t even be out here. Chief Woftik has you locked down for your safety. You need to go back home,” she urged you and nodded her head towards your home. Your face turned sour at her words. The hope dying in your chest.

“Don’t tell me he told everyone to keep me locked up.” You wouldn’t put it past Woftik as chief of the tribe, protector of his mate, and father to the child in your belly. “I can’t go out there to hunt with him. He won’t let me! Shantail, I need to be doing something. I’m so bored!” Woftik may be the chief, but you were his mate. That meant you also had some pull here. Human or not.

“I need something to do, please.” You pulled every trick in the book to get her to let you help. Or at the very least, stay out here for company.

The usual softness in her eyes faded away. Shantail shook her head. “As ordered by the chief, you must return home.” You looked at her for a few more seconds; in hopes she may change her mind. But the female Yautja stayed firm. You sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat.

This was stupid. You turned on your heel and trekked back through the snow.

Warmth from the hut washed over you. Each layer was stripped off and put back where you had originally taken them from. But the fight in you was far from over. Stubborn as a mule.

Two can play it that way.

A week later, Woftik leaves again to cheek the traps along three section. As for you, you knew the pathing like the back of your hands. Your winter gear was adorned completely since there was a lgith breeze. It brought the temperature down by at least seven degrees. You bundled right up and waited five minutes before slinking off.

Other hunters may be hunting as well to check other traps or even to keep an eye out on any nearby herbs. To ensure the herds numbers stayed high to repopulate, trackers were sent out to, well, track the herds path, grazing grounds, and numbers. All essential in keeping the food chain in equilibrium. Especially out here where its harder to live then it is to die.

You peered through the front flaps out the entrance and scanned around. The area was free of any life forms, including Woftik. Perfect. You popped out of the hut and started to make your way to the end of section three. There would be a time where Woftik and yourself would meet up. At that point, it won’t matter since the days’ work would be over already. Woftik won’t have anything to complain about then.

Section three covered an area where Mike liked to use for travel. It’s where the snow has grown too thick for Mieks to go under it. The area has wielded great results for ensnared Mieks. Plenty for the tribe to stock up on by either freezing it or turning it into jerky. They knew how to make some good jerky as well.

With your shorter legs, it was more difficult to push through the deep snow further away from camp. After years of traveling in the same situation over and over, you’s grown muscles to fight through the icy, frigid land.

Ten steps is all it took to hear your name being called out. Immediately, you stopped in your tracks and turned your head enough to see Cubnor stomping through the snow behind you. A curse left your lips at the sight his white scales. Spotted. You pouted while glaring at the approaching Yautja. Cubnor stops in front of you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked and cross his arms firmly. Plenty of excuses filled your mind to slip passed him and keep going.

“Woftik got a head start. I’m meeting him in the middle so we have more time tonight to work on the stash of jerky we’ve got.” Not solid, but hopefully it was enough. “I’ve finally got him to loosen up a bit.” Le that be the tip of the iceberg to seal the deal.

Cubnor’s dark eyes narrowed on your smaller form. Shit. “I have yet to hear otherwise from the chief. His orders were firm. It is about keeping you safe.” The hope you had building immediately disappeared at his refusal. God, if only you could smack Woftik for the situation he put you in. Why did you have to agree in the first place?! Without remember the first few months here. Those days, weeks with nothing to do. Terrible.

“You wouldn’t have known. We talked about it this morning before he went out for his hunt.” There!

One of his blue brows quirked up. “That’s funny. I caught him before he left a little ago. Never said a thing about that change.” Well, that didn’t work. “But don’t fret, I can still call him up and just double check with him.” A grumble fell from your lips. It doesn’t matter if he called now or told Woftik later. At one point, Woftik would know at some time today. Your plan failed… again.

Damn Yautjas and actually listening to orders.

Your head shook side to side. “No, no that’s alright.” Cubnor smirked as you steered around him, head bowed and shoulders sagged. At least, you were able to see the outdoors more than last time. You had made it about fifteen feet from the hut before getting caught. Maybe next time, you could make it further. All you had to do was learn.

The next time you snuck out in hopes of being helpful four days later, you had actual hope. The snow had lessened. Your snow shoes were of great help as you march forward. All bundled up, nice and toasty in your pelts. A small pack on your back, full of supplies incase a trap breaks. You were ready for the trip to section four. Same as before, you were going to try and meet Woftik in the middle so it would be too late for him to send you home.

Except- “Where do you think you’re going?” a deep voice demanded. You froze in the middle of a step then slowly turned your head to find Hyk, the tribe’s healer. She had her arms firmly crossed whiled gazing down at you from the bridge of her mouth. Her dark green eyes were filled with disappointment as you stood there. You hadn’t even made it five feet from the entrance!

“We have an appointment, little human.” Your eyes widened. Had you forgotten? It couldn’t possibly be today? But Hyk was here… and had caught you. Oh, how both you and Woftik were going to hear about it plenty enough. You sighed and trudged back into the hut, mumbling under your breath. Hyk didn’t entertain the words and followed you in.

For the third attempt into the wilderness, it wasn’t luck or ‘the charm’. These damn Yautjas were good! It made you mad with each failure after waiting patiently for a whole week this time.

All of your gear was slipped on. A beanie, thick fur jacket, fur leggings, and comfortable, warm boots. The pack of trap supplies hung off your back, ready for the adventure. You ensured the jacket was tied tightly around your waist before stepping out into the calm and cool day. It was gorgeous.

Thick arms wrapped around your waist and hoisted you off of the ground. Fear gripped your heart instantly in a vice grip. Your mouth dropped to let out a terrified scream as you tried to kick or elbow your kidnapper. None of your strikes made it. A large palm covered your mouth, muting the sound.

“Little one,” an all too familiar voice rumbled into your ear. A shutter wracked your body, freezing up a moment later. It’s one thing to be caught by Shantail or Cubnor, but this was Woftik. In the flesh. His arms tightened by a hair around you, somehow pressing you closer to him. “Why do you keep trying to leave?” It was the disappointment in his voice that made guilt rise inside of you.

You go slack in his arms, head hung in shame. “Woftik,” you whined his name. “I…I’m getting so bored. I’m missing you. I need company. I need something to do. I’m going insane!” Honestly. Just sitting around a very small apartment like hut with only a tablet to entertain yourself. He saw the way you acted when you first arrived here. That first month was terrible. That was a life you wanted to leave, to go back to the main city. Where it was warm, where there were things to do, where were more than fifty people here. He knows that you had suffered.

Woftik let you stand on your own two feet. You turned around to face, a solemn, guilty look on your face. His nearly black eyes found yours and softened. “Little mate…” he trailed off to find the right words. Confliction warred in his orbs until he released a deep sigh. “I understand. I remember how you suffered before learning the hunt. I should’ve taken your needs into consideration before ewe came to this agreement.” He reached out and brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“Since you’re already geared up, would you like to join in on the hunt? You’ll be very well protected,” Woftik offered and saw the light brightened in your eyes.

“Really?!” you gasped and put your hands together.

His upper mandibles quirked up into a soft smirk. “Yes. I am sure. I should’ve thought about the decision. Let this be a way to make it up to you. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry. Thank you for listening to me in the end. I will let you know when I can’t or won’t hunt anymore until the birth and some time after that.” Woftik leaned towards your face. You instantly knew what he wanted and gave him a peck on the cheek to seal the deal.

The two of you began the journey to section six together.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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