#anyone who reblogs this is getting a virtual air kiss

[waywardnerd67]

Starving Affection

Summary: It had been five years since (Y/N) had any physical contact with another person. When she starts talking with a man online who reads her fanfics, a battle of her  mind and body begins. When the time comes to meet him, she finds that there are still decent human beings in the world.  Characters: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Sami (OFC), Plus Size!Reader Pairing: Jensen x Plus Size!Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut/Body Image Distortion Word Count: 9256 A/N: Again, me working through my feels. Thank you for allowing me to do so.

My chest tightened. Jaw clenched until my teeth hurt. My body rigid and frozen as panic flowed through my veins. The overly friendly, new teacher had her arms outstretched towards me. If I had been a normal person, I would gladly hold my arms out as well embracing her kindness and affection.

I was not normal.

“Hey Katy!” My partner teacher and best friend, Sami, headed her off by stepping in front of me and taking the hit of affection.

There was a special place in Heaven for Sami and if not, I would fight God themselves to make it so. I could see Sami whispering to Katy and a nod of acknowledgement told me I would not have to worry about her advancements again.

“Sorry (Y/N), I didn’t know you weren’t a hugger. How about a high five?” Her sweet gesture had my trembling hand stretching out to her as she quickly slapped it with her own.

Only Sami could see my flinch from the physical touch of someone. Everyone else summed it up to my quirky personality and weird aversion to being touched. Thankfully our English department meeting was over and I could escape to the safe haven of my car. Sami was close behind me waving goodbye to everyone.

I bumped my shoulder to hers as she was the only one I had no problem with minor touching, “Thank you for taking that hug for me.”

She laughed, “You’re lucky I’m a friendly and huggy person. Hey, I meant to ask you before school today, but how is counseling going?”

I cringed, averting my gaze from her, “It’s… going fine.”

She stopped me with a tap on my shoulder, “The truth, please.”

I sighed as my shoulders slumped in defeat, “I stopped going,” I saw the incoming assault in her narrowing sky colored eyes.

“(Y/N)! You were making such good progress with this counselor. I was even able to give you a one arm hug.” The disappointment in her voice weighed my shoulders down even more.

I leaned against my car pulling on the sleeves of my hoodie, “I know, I know. She had me go to one of her support groups and everyone had to hug someone. I… I just couldn’t. I tried three or four times going to the group and I failed every time.”

My eyes fell to the ground, disgust filling my mind, “Yes, you really are as pathetic as you’re sounding.” My inner voice snarked.

I heard Sami sigh, “It’s okay. We can work through it together. We can keep doing everything you liked from her and work at your pace.”

Looking up, I forced my lips into a small smile to appease my only real life friend, “That sounds good. Thanks Sami for putting up with me.”

I made my way home to a small ranch style home that was off the beaten path. My grandparents had left it to me knowing I would love the seclusion of it. It was my Fortress of Solitude. The only living thing, other than Sami, to be able to snuggle with me was Charlie the cat. The copper Main Coon was sitting by the door awaiting my arrival.

My evenings were always the same. Check in with my mom for an hour on the phone. Make or order dinner, which tonight was ordering pizza for the leftovers tomorrow. Turning on my favorite TV show, Supernatural, on Netflix and working on one of my millions of fanfics.

“Yes, stay in complete denial by hiding in your fantasy worlds and falling in love with fictional characters. Loser.”

I pushed my inner thoughts to the very back of my mind and focused on my current series I was writing. Pulling up Tumblr, I looked in my notifications seeing someone binge reading my masterlist. My heart always swelled with joy whenever someone took the time to read my writings. This person was also leaving feedback as well.

“ChevyMan67: I love this version of Dean! You truly have captured his personality and sarcasm.”

“ChevyMan67: I can’t get enough of this series! Please tell me there is more to come. I need to know if Dean finally falls in love and gets his apple pie life.”

I read through every comment and looked at every GIF the reader posted. I hit follow on his blog then took a few screenshots from my activity page, pulling up a blank post adding the pictures.

“Thank you to @ChevyMan67 for binging my stories! Your feedback means everything to me!”

As soon as I posted it there was a notification of a reblog from him. He posted a GIF of Dean screaming with #Fangirling flashing underneath. My cheeks ached from the unusual tension of a genuine smile spreading across my face.

Online I could be anyone I wanted. I would virtual hug and blow kisses at my friends. I was able to be more like the woman I was. Social, happy, carefree, open to others. I could be the woman I desperately wanted to be but my mind would not allow.

“Stay guarded. Remember what happened when you trusted him? Trusted his family? Never again. You promised never again.”

My indeed guard held the line at the gate of my mind. She stood in full armor and shield ready to throw off anyone that even attempted to break through to the part of me that desired to be a whole person again. I shook my head with a firm nod and reaffirmed my promise to myself to never let anyone that close to me again.

As I was closing down her computer for the evening, a ding caught my attention as a message came from Tumblr. Opening the window, I saw a DM from my newest follower.

“Hey there, I just wanted to say thank you for following me. Apparently I’m a rarity on here for being male and a fan of Supernatural. I truly love all your writings and can’t wait to read more. Hopefully, we can get to know each other better and become friends. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone. Message me any time. Goodnight.”

I re-read the message several times before closing my computer. Sure I had people message me for small talk and a few close friends I had on there. This felt different. Something deep within me sparked and I did not know how to react. There was only one person I knew I could go to and her reaction was more frightening than the thought of responding to ChevyMan67. That night was the first of many restless nights for me.

A week later, I finally sat down and responded to him.

“Hey, I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. I’m… well, I’m not used to talking to guys here. I think it’s great that you’re on here and reading, BTW. I’m working on a few pieces right now, maybe you could beta for me if you have time. I hope we can be friends as well. Have a good weekend!”

I was nearly hyperventilating when I hit enter sending the message. I tried to work on my newest one shot story and ignore my anxious heart awaiting for the ding. It was not until I was in bed watching my favorite episode of Supernatural that my phone chimed.

“Tumblr: Message from ChevyMan67”

My finger hovered for a moment before opening the app. The message opened and I let out a air I had been holding in my chest.

“No worries. Everyone is busy and has their “real life” to attend too. I work odd hours and days all the time so I get it. I would LOVE to beta for you!!!! Reading your work before it’s posted online? HELL YEAH! I feel honored you asked and I’m fanboying hard right now. Crap… that sounded… I mean. Sorry lol. You can send your fics to ChevyMan67@gmail.com. Looking forward to hearing from you again.”

Over the next six months, Ross and I talked throughout our days getting to know one another. Three month into Tumblr messenger and dumb updates, he gave me his cell number to text one another. At times, I would have to catch myself from laughing while my students took a test. Everyone around me started to notice the small changes in me. Smiling more, talking more and one student commented on me wearing bright colors.

“You look good in yellow Miss (Y/L/N).”

However it was Sami who demanded to know all about the changes going on with me. We sat at our favorite restaurant, the first round of drinks being set in front of us. After the waiter took our order, Sami began her interrogation.

“Tell. Me. Everything. You’ve been keeping me at bay and I’ve respected your space, but you have seemingly blossomed in the last few months. Spill.”

I bit my lower lip as my phone sounded with an all to familiar chime. I went to grab my phone when Sami placed her hand over it, “Me first. Tumblr second.”

“It’s not Tumblr. Let me reply to him and then I will tell you everything.” I dared to look up to see my best friend’s face frozen in shock.

Her eyes wide and mouth gaping, “Him?!”

I nodded reading Ross’s message, “Hey I know you’re out with Sami and going to tell her about little ole me. I just wanted to make sure you were still thinking about what I asked last night. Can’t wait to hear from you soon. Not now though, have fun with Sami.”

I smiled, locking my phone and putting it in my purse looking back to my ridiculously happy friend, “His name is Ross.”

There was a loud, attention grabbing squeal from her as I shushed her, “Leave out no details…” she rested her perfect chin on her folded hands.

I told her all about Ross and how we began talking. I told her everything I knew about him and what he knew about me. Finally, as our food came out and drinks were refilled, I told her about what he had dropped on me the previous night.

“He asked me to meet him at the Supernatural Convention in Dallas next month. He already has the passes paid for and a few photo ops that we could share.” My heart raced at the thought of meeting Ross and meeting my favorite celebrities all at the same time.

Sami’s smile faded slightly, “Does he know about your struggles with being touched?”

I nodded, “It was one of the first personal things I told him. He’s still talking to me so I took that as a frightening good sign.”

“What are you feeling?” her point blank question shook me for a moment.

My fingers drummed against the table, “I’m nervous, scared, anxious…” I paused for a moment before looking up at her with a smile.

“I’m also excited, hopeful and curious.”

Sami held out her hands to me, palms up and I hesitantly placed my hands in hers. It was something we had been working on for the last couple of months. This was the first time I allowed her to squeeze my hands.

“You really like him.” She whispered smiling like a fool.

I felt my own smile mirroring hers, “Yes I do and that scares me shitless.”

The rest of the evening felt like the old days before my life fell apart. When I got home, I decided to test my luck. Pulling up Ross’s number, my thumb hovered over it until I smashed it hearing it ringing.

“Well hello, this is a surprise.” His velvety smooth voice sent shivers down my body, “Take a deep breath and know it’s okay if you hang up to just text me.”

“N-No, I’ll be okay.” I stammered as he let out a low chuckle.

I could hear him moving away from other voices around him, “I interrupted something…” Guilt and shame weighing my shoulders down.

“Not at all. They can wait, you calling me is an important moment. Not everyday, I get to speak to my favorite writer on the phone.” His compliments calmed my queasy stomach, “Could I be so hopeful that this phone call is working up to a good answer?”

I took a deep breath in and let out slowly, “Yes.” The word seems foregin to her as it left my lips.

“Yes I can be hopeful or yes to my question?” His jovial banter eased the tension in my shoulders.

“Yes.” I tried to sound a little more confident, my heart beating against my chest.

There was a moment of silence before loud cheering and yelling came through her speaker. His excitement was silenced by my own unfamiliar laughter. Suddenly I was hyper aware that he was no longer making any noises. Panic and fear swelling inside me.

A soft sigh came from him, “You have a beautiful laugh. I can’t wait to hear it again.”

My cheeks burned, “Thank you.”

Ross told me he would send all the details for our trip and that I was not to worry about money of any kind. Mentally, I began planning out how to save as much money as I could in the next four weeks. Thankfully, my savings was built up enough to take a small hit and not dip into her emergency fund. Over the next several weeks, I began to prepare for my first convention, first time meeting an online friend, first time traveling by myself, first time facing the unknown in five years.

The morning of my travel day, I went over to Sami’s house with Charlie. I was surprised to see her sister sitting there. She waved to me before taking Charlie’s crate.

“What’s going on?” I looked around seeing Sami’s suitcase packed by the door.

She smiled, “Your friend Ross, reached out to me.”

The color from my face drained for a moment, “H-He did… How?”

“He found me on your Instagram page. DM me asking me to join you on your trip. Stating and I quote, ‘I know you being there with (Y/N) will make her more comfortable. I want this weekend to go as comfortably as possible for her. I know it’s a big step and I want her to be taken care of.’”

She smiled softly as my vision blurred from tears slipping down my face, “Oh… wow.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing (Y/N/N). If you were ever going to work on overcoming your touch aversion this would be the man to do it for.” Sami turned around to help her sister, leaving me to my own thoughts.

“Absolutely not! There is no way he is getting through my defenses. I have held strong for five years. Your heart and mind are safe within my holds.”

“Do you really think he’s going to want to touch you? Look at yourself. Lumpy. Chunky. Squishy. Dull (Y/C/H) hair. Boring (Y/C/E) eyes. Not even a decent pair of boobs or ass. You’re nothing special. Always remember that you’re nothing special.”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) stop it.” Sami’s voice rang clear bringing me back to the present.

I nodded slowly, “Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Freaked out. We will work through it. Sara is gonna drive us to the airport and we have an hour to chat. Okay?”

It was in the moment that I noticed my best friend had absentmindedly placed her hand on my shoulder and I did not flinch. My eyes looked to her hand and back to her, “You’re touching my shoulder.”

“Crap, I’m so sor…” she started to say but my bright smile stopped her, “What?”

I placed my hand on top of hers, “I didn’t flinch or move or even notice you did it.”

Now her smile was matching mine and we had a moment of pure excitement jumping around each other. True to her word, we spent the hour on the plane doing some meditative exercises. I thanked every high power who would listen for my best friend getting her psychology degree.

There was a man waiting with our names on a piece of paper. He took our bags and drove us to a  hotel near where the convention was being held. Sami checked us in since there were so many people inside and my anxiety started to flare up.

Breathe in counting to six. Breathe out counting to six.

I repeated my breathing exercise until Sami returned her brow furrowed, “What is it?”

“I don’t know who Ross knows, but he must be connected in some way. We have a suite on the fourteenth floor.”

My jaw dropped slightly before I stood up bracing myself for the next hurdle of getting through the elevator ride. Luckily, there were only two other girls in the car and I could safely keep my distance from them.

“I heard that Jensen is staying at this hotel.” One mentioned as the other rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right. This is Dallas, I’m sure he’s probably staying with his family or something.”

The girls exit on the eighth floor and before the doors could close Sami and I were chuckling to ourselves. The chances of Jensen Ackles staying at this hotel would be astronomical. The car dinged for the top floor and opened to a small hallway. When we opened the door to our suite neither of us spoke.

Sami walked throughout the entire room before I could even move from the entryway, “This room is amazing! Check out the view we have (Y/N).”

“Hold on. Having a moment.” I breathed as Sami came to my side and I held my hand out, “I’m fine. Just need a moment to make sure this is real and not a dream.”

I watched as she walked over to the coffee table where there was a gift basket and she held up a small notecard, “Oh it’s real.”

“(Y/N) and Sami, I hope you love your room. Enjoy your night and order anything you want. The front desk knows it’s all on my tab. I’m hoping you both will join me for dinner tomorrow night after registration. Sadly, my job won’t let me leave before then. I look forward to meeting you both. -R PS: I highly recommend the spa and they have a large private jacuzzi just for you, (Y/N).”

Sami sighed, “I really hope he has a single brother, cousin, friend that is like him for me.”

I rolled my eyes walking over to the large windows looking out. Flashes of the last time I was in Dallas popping into my mind. I shivered as the one voice I hated yelled loudly in my ears. My hands covered them and I felt Sami tap my shoulder twice. For the first time, in several years, I reached out to her and gripped her arms.

“(Y/N) remember why we’re here. Remember talking with Ross on the phone. The tone of Ross’s voice. His laughter.” Her calm tone eased me out of the wretched memory.

She guided me over to the couch and went to get me a glass of water. I sipped it slowly before squeezing her hand, “Thank you.”

“You know, I can get used to you reaching out to me. Feels like the (Y/N) I knew coming back.” Sami squeezed my hand back before I let slip from her grasp.

She was right, the woman I once was before my ex was fighting her way to get out again. Still, my guard was up standing fortified at the gate.

That evening was a girls’ night of epic proportions. They went to the spa where (Y/N) sat in her private jacuzzi while Sami received the best massage of her life. Afterwards, we ordered our dinner from room service making moderate choices since neither of us were paying. When our food came there was a special dessert also with another note.

“A little birdy told me that your favorite dessert was French Silk pie. I wanted you to have a slice and some New York Style cheesecake for Sami. Have a wonderful night.”

Sami whistled, “Man, he has it bad for you.”

“Shut up.” I muttered lifting the dome to see a delicious slice of pie.

As they ate and talked, Sami took my phone taking pictures of them enjoying a very Sam and Dean style dinner. Sami having a Chef’s salad with honey mustard dressing. I took a picture of my dinner sending it to Ross with a text saying thank you.

“Dean would be proud! That bacon cheeseburger looks good. Enjoy!”

I smiled the entire time I ate my burger. Finishing out meals, Sami hooked up her laptop putting on Supernatural. I decided to try and work on some stories when a terrifying thought crossed my mind. I looked up to the screen as Dean began to talk. I closed my eyes listening carefully to his voice. The low tone and smoothness of it. It was the way he said the word writer that had my eyes snapping open and a gasp escaping my lips.

“What? What is it?” Sami sat up concerning filling her eyes.

Like pieces to a puzzle everything snapped into place. All the small details that would go unnoticed by someone who would never expect it. Sami tapped my shoulder and I turned to her with wide eyes.

“Ross… that’s Jensen’s middle name.” I mumbled reaching for my phone.

Sami stood up pausing the episode, “Okay… what are you getting at.”

“Listen.” I played for her the voicemail he had left a few days earlier, “Now play the episode.”

Sami’s eyes connected to her, “No way.”

“Ross is Jensen Ackles.”

That night my dreams were filled with my ex yelling at me. Fat shaming me. Calling me a loser. Calling me useless for not being able to bear children. His looming form made me coward into a ball on the floor. I woke up several times during the night, the final time close to six in the morning. Sami was peacefully sleeping on her side of the bed.

I picked up my phone going into the living area and dialing the all too familiar number. On the third ring she was going to hang up, but then his groggy voice pierced my ears.

“(Y/N), is everything alright?” All I could hear was Dean, which meant that it was truly Jensen on the other side.

“You tell me, Jensen.” I heard him sit up as I began to pace near the window.

A long sigh came from him, “I knew you would figure it out before meeting me.”

I scoffed, “Is this some kind of celebrity joke or prank? Pretend to be someone’s friend and embarrass them when they meet you.”

My guard was shaking her head muttering, “Told you so…”

“No, (Y/N) it’s nothing like that. Misha had read some of your stories and suggested I should read them. At first, I thought it would be weird because I’ve never read fanfiction before, but your writing… it drew me in.” His words came out all in one breath.

I froze, “M-Misha read my stories? Oh god…” My body burned from embarrassment.

“Honestly, there’s not a person on our crew that hasn’t read at least one of your stories. You’re talented and the way you write for the boys is amazing. Our own writer’s are impressed with your talent.”

I groaned slumping down to the floor, “This was all a mistake.” The last thing I heard before ending the call was rustling around as if Jensen was moving from his bed.

My phone slipped from my hand as tears streamed down my face. I closed my eyes allowing my inner voices to consume me. Dragging me down into the darkness.

“You fool! Here I stood guarding you from this and still you allowed someone in. You deserve what is coming to you!”

“You useless piece of nothing! You’re the biggest joke this world ever created. Fat, ugly, even your body can’t do the one basic thing god made it to do. You’re worthless. Sucking up air that could be used on someone contributing to the world. No matter what anyone says you will always be the biggest failure in this world. You. Are. Nothing.”

I felt someone tapping on my shoulder and I tightened myself into a ball, “Go away Sami.”

The tapping continued and I reached out grasping an unfamiliar hand. My eyes snapped open and were met with concerning, piercing olive eyes. The eyes I stared at for hours on my TV. The eyes I wrote about in hundreds of thousands of words online.

As soon as my eyes opened he withdrew his hand and my heart sank further into darkness, “I told you. He will never want to touch your disgusting body.” The snide voice of my inner self whispered.

“(Y/N), please hear me out. Please for five minutes just listen to my side.” He sat across from me leaving a foot of distance between us.

I nodded looking up as Sami gently touched his shoulder, “I will be just outside if you need me.”

He waited for the door to close to start talking. His large hands rubbing against his cotton covered thighs.

“I started reading your masterlist on Tumblr and couldn’t get enough of your stories. I didn’t know exactly how to work Tumblr so Misha showed me how. I noticed you don’t get a lot of notes and I wanted everyone to notice you. I started sharing your work with everyone after sending you that message.”

He paused for a moment as I fidget with the hem of my shirt, “Why did you message me?”

His smile was more radiant in person, “It’s just as I said. I loved your work and I wanted to be friends. However, the more I got to know you… the more I wanted to meet you in person. I knew that would be problematic.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I scoffed looking down to my hands.

He inhaled a deep breath, “You connect with Dean Winchester the same way I do. To find someone like that is a once in a lifetime chance. I want someone who I can gush over Dean with because soon I won’t be hanging out with him as much and he’s the best imaginary friend I’ve ever had.”

Seeing Jensen open himself up to me was creating a battle of mind and body within me. He was just as nervous as I was to open up to someone else. Suddenly, I did not feel so alone in my isolation. My hand trembled as I reached over placing it atop of his.

“Dean Winchester saved my life and I don’t mean that figuratively. I was on the verge of leaping into darkness when I found him getting Sammy to find their dad. I found the strength to carry on because I knew that was what Dean would do. I found that being broken wasn’t a bad thing but something that could drive you to keep working. Dean helped me to feel again when I had become numb to the world around me.”

His eyes shined as I spoke trying to hold back his own tears, “I’m glad he could be there for you when you needed him the most.”

“Then you came into my life when I least expected it.” I whispered as I squeezed his hand.

My mind was screaming at me to get as far away from him as I possibly could. To call out to Sami to make him leave and move out of the state disappearing from the world. However, my body was urging me to jump into his arms. To open myself up to him as he had done with me. I felt like a spring coil ready to snap. My mind was holding my body back waiting for my consciousness to make a decision.

And she did.

I launched myself into his arms startling him as we crashed to the floor. His arms instinctively wrapped around me as mine encircled his neck. The door flew open as Sami came rushing in as Jensen’s laughter filled the room. I hugged him tighter to me as he tightened his grip around me.

“Oh my god… (Y/N), you’re hugging him.”

I did not need to open my eyes to know tears were slipping down my best friend’s cheeks. Her voice was thick with utter joy and amazement.

“Does this hug mean that you don’t hate me?” His question caught me off guard.

Jensen’s hands kept me in place as he sat up swinging my legs across his. My arms are still around his neck not wanting to lose the connection. Now that my body was against his, it flooded with the strange feeling of desire. Sami joined them on the floor sitting cross legged in front of them.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you. Though I’m still upset you lied to me.” I rested my head on my arm and against the side of his neck.

Feeling him sigh and seeing Sami grinning, I knew this was a big moment for all of us. We sat on the floor for another hour talking before Jensen had to go back to his room to get ready for the day. Neither of us wanted to let go of the other. He hugged me one last time before walking out of the suite. When I turned around I was immediately engulfed into another hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Sami squealed.

“Thanks, I think…” My sentence drifted and she pulled away from me.

I walked back toward the bed and flopped face first onto it. I felt her crawl up on the bed beside me knowing me well enough to give me space.

“Talk it out, (Y/N). What are you feeling?”

My cheeks burned from the first feeling to pop into my head, “I feel warm, anxious, happy...” I paused gathering the courage to say the last word, “desire.”

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?” Sami eagerly asked.

I sat up, “Desire.” Saying the very word felt weird.

She began to clap and raised her hands in the air, “Praise the lord!”

“Don’t get all weird about it. I don’t know what any of this means. My body is tingling…”

Sami interrupted, “I bet it does…”

“Shut up, mostly not in that way. I don’t know how to act around other people anymore. What is too much touching? What is too little? What does a hug mean? I have too many questions and all the answers just walked out the door.”

I looked over as my phone chimed seeing a message from Ross, “I guess I need to change that now.” I murmured as I pulled up his message.

“First, thank you for trusting me with a hug. It means the world to me. I wanted to know if you wanted to have an early lunch with me? We could eat in my room or restaurant or your room with Sami. Whatever you are most comfortable with. Let me know.”

I held my phone up for Sami to read and she jumped off the bed, “You can have our room. I will go entertain myself by the pool.”

I texted him back that he could come to my room as Sami began tossing clothes out on the bed, “What are you doing?”

“Finding you the perfect outfit. Now go shower so I can play dress up with you.” She clapped her hands excitedly as I groaned loudly.

Looking in the mirror again, I pulled at the shirt clingy to every soft, round surface of my waist. I pushed my stomach watching as it bounced back into place like jello. Turning to the side, I sucked as many rolls as I could inward, holding my breath. The air rushed from my lips as a knock came from the door. Making my way towards it, I grabbed my zip-up hoodie slipping my arms in it quickly.

“Hi.” The word came out more breathlessly than I wanted.

My inner voice whispering, “Yeah fatty, let him know that walking across the room makes you lose your breath.”

“Hey there, I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and grabbed lunch for us.” Jensen held up a paper bag from a local sandwich spot.

As he walked in, I took a moment to truly admire him. He looked like a male model in his tight dark jeans, black boots, dark olive Henley and sunglasses resting on top of his unruly, sandy brown hair. His smooth voice caught my attention.

“You could take a picture and it would last longer.” He chuckled sitting down on the couch and laying out their lunch.

I sat on the opposite side of him as far away as I could. Even though my body desperately wanted to be closer to him, I kept my distance not pushing my mental capacity. He glanced over a hint of disappointment in his eyes seeing me so far away.

Jensen slid a sandwich towards me, “I remember you telling me that you love ham and swiss with tomato.”

“Thank you.” I unwrapped the sandwich and grabbed a bag of chips.

We ate in silence as a strange tension built between us. My stomach churning to the point I could no longer eat. I would look over to him out of the corner of my eye to find his eyes drifting over me. I wrapped my hoodie around me instinctively trying to hide the imperfections.

“There’s no hoodie big enough to hide your ugliness.” The familiar voice whispered.

I shook my head when I heard music playing, looking back to Jensen. He smiled sheepishly as he set his phone on the table.

“I thought maybe some background noise would help,” He stood up clearing the food from the table then stood in front of me with his hand out, “Trust me?”

His eyes were shining from the afternoon rays of sun coming from the window and his lips were spread in a gentle smile. I exhaled slowly allowing all the tension to leave my body and placed my hand in his. He pulled me up from the couch taking my hands and placing them behind his neck. His large hands slid down my sides to my hips and I flinched.

“You do know that you’re beautiful, right?” He whispered swaying my body with the music.

I shook my head, “I’m really not. Ordinary at best.”

Jensen lifted my chin, piercing (Y/C/E) meeting , “You are far from ordinary, (Y/N).”

“You’re just being kind.” I looked away as he slowly turned us in a circle.

The music continued but Jensen stopped moving, “I have so many questions but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or have you running to the hills.”

“Questions for me? Surely, you have better things to do with your time other than sitting inside with me. Don’t you have fans to entertain?” I smirked.

He chuckled, “Lucky for you, I happen to have the day off. I normally spend the day with my family. However this year they all ditched me.”

I mockingly acted shocked, “Oh no! You poor thing.”

His eyes narrowed in on me before laughing, “My mom and dad are somewhere in Spain enjoying their anniversary gift. My sister decided a girls trip with her best friends was better than hanging with me for the day. My brother is always busy with his family. You’re stuck with me.”

“I guess there’s worse ways to spend my day. Okay, ask away but I’m not promising I’ll answer them all.”

Jensen led me back to the couch, but kept ahold of my hand as we sat back down. He laced his long fingers with mine. His thumb brushing over my knuckle. I settled back against the couch once again wrapping my hoodie around me.

“What were you thinking when I put my hands on your hips earlier?”

I bit my lower lip, “I was mortified that you were touching my squish rolls of skin. I was thinking you must be disgusted by it.”

“Wow…” He squeezed my hand, “Whoever he was he really did a number on you. If I ask his name and address would you be against me and Jared beating the crap out of him?”

A genuine burst of laughter echoed in the room, “He’s really not worth it. Plus, he is much happier with his life now and that’s all that matters. He deserves to be happy.”

I was surprised to see Jensen face scrunched up in anger, “But you don’t?” He leaned in slightly, his features softening.

“No, I don’t.” The words came out without even a second thought and seeing Jensen recoil from them as if they had slapped him in the face twisted my heart.

His tongue darted out over his lips and the electrical energy between us sparked wildly, “You’re wrong. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Any man who told you otherwise is no man at all.”

He was leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart pounding in my ears and my body urging me to meet him in the middle. His forehead pressed against mine and his nose caressed mine.

“I’m going to kiss you.” he whispered.

“I don’t think I remember how to kiss back.” The pathetic confession was followed by a wayward tear slipping down my cheek.

His soft, full lips pressed gently against mine. My mind searched for the file within the long abandoned cabinets for how to kiss someone. He pulled away for a split second only to return his lips to mine. I found my lips pushing against his out of basic instinct. Our lips melded together for a moment before I felt him smile against mine.

His hands cupping my face, “I think it will all come back to you easier than you may think.”

I took in a deep breath letting it out in a short burst, “I think you believe in me too much for only meeting me a few hours ago.”

Jensen was still holding my face as he leaned back, “Other than Jared and Mish, I have never felt closer to anyone, but you.”

“You have your work cut out for you then,” I pointed to my head, “because it’s a nightmarish mess up in here.”

He leaned in kissing me once again, “You are worth every second of being with you because you’re stunning, smart, talented, caring and most of all you’re beautiful inside and out.”

I stared up at him speechless as my inner guard laid down her shield, “I like this one.”

“No… no one has ever said that about me. I-I don’t know what to say or how to react.” I stammered, unable to comprehend what he said.

He smiled widely, “Get used to that feeling because I’m preparing for you to feel that way a lot. Now, I don’t want to test your boundaries too much so I think we should hang out here and watch a movie.”

Jensen moved to the end of the couch resting his arm along the back of it and propping his feet on the table. For the first time in forever, there were no inner voices to keep me from doing what I desperately wanted. I moved over next to him resting my back into his side and stretching my legs out to the other end of the couch. His arm draped over the front of my chest and his fingertips brushed against my side.

This time there was no flinching and I smiled at the small victory.

The rest of the weekend was like a dream. Seeing the convention backstage, meeting all the rest of the other actors on the show and most of all Jensen’s constant touch comforted me throughout it all. Sami beaming with pride as I pushed myself to be in the crowd for the concert on Saturday. When Sunday came, I found myself riddled with sadness knowing I would have to leave this magical weekend behind.

Sami had decided to go back to the hotel while I waited for Jensen to finish his autographs. I had noticed Clif, the boys’ friend and bodyguard, staying close by me. When the last fan left the autograph room, he motioned for me to follow him. Entering the room, I found Jensen with his head down on his table while Jared and Misha were fooling around at theirs.

Walking up, I slid my hands over his shoulders and began rubbing the knots out of them. A small groan escaping his lips sent a wave of desire over my body. I moved my hands down his back eagerly wanting to hear him again.

“Hey, if you’re giving free massages away I’ll take one!” Jared called out.

Jensen’s head snapped up, “Don’t even think about it Padalecki. Her hands are too precious for your sweaty self.”

I chuckled as he stood up letting my hands drift down his back. I knew he was fit but his body was firm and lean in all the right spots. As he moved away I found my fingers stretching out to touch him again. All weekend I had found myself craving his touch. My mind was obsessively thinking about his hand in mine or my arms around his waist or his hands gripping my hips. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I heard him chuckle.

“You okay? You kind of spaced out for a moment.”

I nodded smiling, “I’m great. Just thinking was all.”

“Well come on, you and I can grab something to eat then hang out in my room.” His arm slipped around my shoulders and instantly I relaxed into his embrace.

Dinner was unexpectedly crashed by Jared and Misha tagging along. We found a twenty-four hours diner near the hotel that was nearly empty and we all spent a few hours talking, laughing. I could not help the sadness creeping over me as the minutes passed by. Minutes I was losing to have Jensen to myself. As if he read my mind he excused us to head back to the hotel.

We walked in silence, hand in hand. Stepping into the elevator, he pulled me into his side and I wrapped my arms around his waist. His room was on the opposite end of the same hall as mine. Stepping inside, the door clicking shut as we stood across from one another. It was like a shotgun going off as Jensen closed the distance between us. His hands sliding down my body as his mouth crashed to mine.

As suddenly as it happened, it was over.

“I’m sorry… shit. (Y/N) I’m really sorry.” His pleads confused me for a moment.

Breathing heavily as he stepped back further from me I blurted out, “W-Why are you apologizing? D-Did I do something wrong?”

His dark forest eyes snapped up, “You do something… you didn’t do anything but be you, (Y/N). I just couldn’t stop myself. This weekend has been the best one in my life. Being around you, holding your hand, kissing you has rejuvenated me. I just want more of you, all of you. Simple looks you give, the way you hold yourself and the moment you open yourself up to reach out to me. I just found myself unable to hold back anymore. I know…”

This time it was me who closed the distance between us. My lips crashing into his. My hands running up his broad chest and into his soft hair. The soft moan escaping my lips as we parted.

“I want you to have me…” I whispered in between breaths, “I’m nervous with a bunch of what ifs running in my head.”

“Do you trust me?” The corner of his lip curling upward.

“Yes.”

Jensen took my hand leading me into the bedroom of his suite. He gently picked me up and sat me on the bed. He knelt in front of me, slipping my shoes from my feet then pulling my socks off. His thumbs pressing into the bottom of my feet as I began to giggle.

“Oh… now that is an amazing sound. I must hear that again.” He smirked, tickling my feet.

I fell back in a fit of giggles as Jensen’s laughter joined mine. I leaned up on my elbows looking down at Jensen resting his chin on my knee. He lifted his brows asking permission and I nodded. His hands drifted over my calves, up to my knees and over my thighs.

“You have incredible legs. I found myself staring at them as you would walk in front of me with Sami. Wondering how they would feel beneath my hands.” He gently squeezed them near my hips.

His knee pressed into the mattress between my legs as his firm body hovered over mine. My fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt pushing it up and hesitantly touching his stomach. Jensen sucked in a quick breath as his hands paused on his hips. I focused on the feeling of his smooth, warm skin beneath my fingertips. His flat stomach is surprisingly soft.  

I grasped the end of his shirt pulling it towards his head as he pulled back allowing it over his head. Taking it from my hands, he tossed it on the floor. I took in every inch of his skin from his muscles flexing to the freckles decorating it.

“You beautiful, you know that?” I did not think he heard me until I saw the smug smirk on his face.

He leaned down kissing me, “Stealing my lines, sweetheart.”

His hands went back to my hips as his lips left a trail of kisses down my neck, “You think that your softness is revolting, but I find it inviting.”

I froze as his hand pushed up into my shirt touching my stomach. I squirmed as he pushed my shirt up just under my bra. My hands threading through his hair as his lips pressed small kisses against my stomach.

“Jensen…” The tension in my tone caught his attention.

His eyes filled with worry, “Too much?”

I took a few deep breaths and shook my head, “I’m fine, promise.”

“See there you go, being brave and pushing yourself. You have no idea how sexy that is.” He murmured against my skin.

As Jensen’s mouth neared the waistband of my jeans, I tugged his hair motioning for him to come back up to her. He smiled randomly kissing spots along my body. His lips finally met mine as I slid my arms around him. His tongue swiped across my bottom lip as they parted for him. His gentleness and care to make me comfortable broke down the last existing wall of defense.

Their kiss deepened. My body burned with a need to feel Jensen’s skin against mine and to be close to him in every way physically possible. Foreign pressure began to simmer deep within me and I lifted my hips pressing them against his thigh.

He pulled away his eyes blown with passion searching mine for an answer to a silent question.

“Please… take away everything he did. I want to feel whole again.” I pleaded just above a whisper.

His lips were on mine again as he gently lifted me up further onto his bed. Sitting up, I pulled my shirt over my head holding it in front of me for a brief moment. His eyes watching my every move as I tossed it over the side. He reached behind me with one hand unclasping my bra in one swift movement.

I kissed his collarbone as he leaned in to do so, “Show off.”

He chuckled before leaning back and allowing me at my pace to unveiling my bare chest to him. I slid the straps down my arms holding it in place before playfully tossing it at him chuckling. Joking had always been my way of dealing with uncomfortable moments. When I looked up his eyes were drifting down my bare upper body.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He smirked as I rolled my eyes at him, “Seriously, (Y/N)... you’re absolutely stunning.”

He ran his hand down my chest, between my breasts and down to my jeans. He undid the button and slowly drew down the zipper. Hooking his fingers with a belt loops dragging my jeans down my legs. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin. Jensen tossed them off to the side then began to place gentle, open mouth kisses up my leg.

My breaths were coming out in small little puffs the further up my leg he got. His mouth hovered over her cotton cover mound inching closer to it. My teeth dug into my lip desperately wanting him to press them against me. Instead he kept his path up my body stopping at my breasts. He cupped the side of one running his thumb over my nipple.

A long sigh escaping my lips from just the slightest touch from him, “O-Oh… Jensen…” His mouth had gently suckled my other nipple, the pressure turning to an ache between my legs.

“You have no idea hearing my name from your lips does to me.” He softly said before circling my nipple with his tongue.

Feeling bold, I slid my hand down between us running it along the hard bulge being restrained by denim. Jensen sucked in a sharp breath dropping his head between my breasts, “Shit…”

“I believe I have some kind of an idea.” I smiled as he grinded himself against my palm.

He stood up at the edge of the bed, his intense stare making me tremble with anticipation. Leaning forward, his fingers hooked the sides of her cotton panties and pulled them down until they were on the floor.

“Exquisite, flawless, perfect.”

“As are you.” I sat up until I was sitting on the edge in front of him.

My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his jeans and carefully unzipped them. Jensen let out a soft hiss as I brushed against his length. His hands cupped my face pulling my lips to his urgently kissing me. I pushed his jeans and boxers down as far as I could before he pushed me back onto the mattress. His hand drifting down my body until his fingers pressed against my folds.

“Jensen, please…” I begged needing to feel any kind of relief from the pressure pulsating from between my legs, “Ohhh… god.”

Jensen began to rub lazy circles against my clit. My hips grinding against his hand as his lips pressed just below my ear, “Are you okay?”

His question sober me from the drunken stupor of desire and I placed my hand over his pushing down further, “More than okay.”

Jensen pushed one long finger deep inside me with a hiss, “Fuck pretty girl, your so tight.” He slowly pushed a second finger inside.

My head pressed against the mattress, my back arching as he pumped his thick fingers in me, “More, oh please Jensen, I need more.”

His pace picked up and I looked up to his face. His eyes wide and dark watching me come undone as his thumb rubbed harshly against my throbbing clit, “Jensen!” I cried out overwhelming pleasure wrecked through my body.

Breathing heavily, my body shaking slightly as he pulled his fingers from me, “Now that was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

A slow grin spread across my face as I pulled his mouth to mine. He positioned himself between my legs pulling away slightly, his lips grazing against mine.  

“Are you sure? We can stop if you want.” Jensen’s tone was tense as I felt his length resting against my folds.

I kissed him, “I need you. All of you.”

He braced himself up with one arm as his hand slipped between us. Jensen ran the swollen head along my slickness before nudging it against my entrance. The room filled with groans and heavy breaths as Jensen slowly sheathed himself within me. There was a singe of pain as I stretched taking him his thick length but quickly was replaced with immense pleasure as he thrusted gently into me.

“So. Tight.” He panted against my cheek.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him digging my heels into him. Each stroke pushing me further to the edge. Feeling every muscle straining along his back and arms. His head buried in the crook of my neck grunting almost painfully. I knew then he was holding back.

I pressed my lips to his ear, “Jensen, I won’t break. You’re making me feel incredible, but I want you to let go. Show me how I make you feel.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he nipped at my neck and his hips snapped against me. The echoes of our skin meeting, loving praises and the headboard against the wall filled the room. I started to meet each thrust of his, the coil within me ready to snap. His hands were gripping my shoulders holding me against his burning body. I clung to him scraping my nails against his back making him growl again.

“Shit Jensen, I’m so close. Just a little more, oh god please!” I beg as he thrusted into me feverishly small grunts coming from him, “Yes, yes, oh… Jensen!”

My whole body was shaking as an intense wave of euphoria covered me. Pulsating around him, he abandoned all control chasing his own release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He gritted his teeth as his body went rigid before slamming into me his length twitching deep within me, “Holy shit…”

Jensen rode out his release, his arms shaking to the point he could not hold himself up anymore. I groaned as he pulled out leaving me empty. He rolled onto his back breathing heavily as I curled into his side burying my head into his chest.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His concern only made me cling to him more.

I shook my head, “No, I’m just overwhelmed. Too many feelings at once.”

“Talk it out. Tell me what you’re feeling.” Jensen wrapped his arms around me holding me close.

I took a deep breath, “I’m feeling exhilaration, bliss, pleasure. Right now, I’m feeling empty and it’s almost like I can’t breath. I feel scared by how much I need to feel your touch.”

His fingers were drawing small circles against my bare back, “If that’s your way of asking for round two, you’re going to have to wait for a little bit. I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.”

There was a brief moment of silence before I started to laugh. My body shaking from the laughter pouring from my lips. I kissed his chest, “Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me. It’s my honor to make you laugh. Bring your pleasure. Praise you for your beautifulness. More importantly, always holding you close to me.”

I entwined my legs with his as he pulled the sheet over our naked bodies. Just when I thought he was about to fall asleep, I slipped my hand over his soft member then pressed my lips just under his chin.

“Round two?”

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[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter thirteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: prison arc, blood, implications of being drugged, self harm under implications of being drugged, physical violence, mentions of abuse (lmk if i missed anyting)

word count: 8.2k

summary: spencer’s post-mexico hardships continue on, and get much worse, while amelia has a concerning experience in her own apartment

i hope u all like this chapter! enjoy!! like, comment, and reblog!! reblogging helps so much❤️

SPENCER

The feeling of abandonment is one that I'm far too familiar with. I hadn't expected to be completely abandoned by the FBI and to not have their support in this battle. I know that I have the support of my team and of Amelia, but when the FBI says that they won't support me and help me stay out of jail or prison, it's disheartening. It’s crushing. It leaves me feeling cold as I sit against a cinderblock wall. 

Sitting in jail is boring. It is, by far, the most boring thing I've ever done in my life. I sit and stare at the wall all day while I regret my decisions and listen to the detainees around me scream and shout. The team individually comes by the visit but it's only for a short amount of time because they're working so hard. They're working on my case at the same time they're working on other cases that they would normally take and I know that they can't come to entertain me. I fully understand why, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I could be home.

But Amelia never comes. I told her not to come. She doesn't need to see me like this. She has seen enough. I'm a completely broken mess, rotting away in a jail cell and I don't need her crying over me or providing more content for her nightmares. I asked Emily to relay this message to her and I was told she cried and didn't speak to anyone for a few hours. She's been staying in a BAU interview room and will only go home for a few hours every few days, and I don't blame her. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't want to go home. But it breaks my heart to know how much Amelia is hurting without me and that I can't help her. I choose to pretend like she doesn’t exist so I won’t think about her. I pretend like I’m living the way I was before I met her. Alone, work-obsessed, with nobody but myself to confide in. It’s easy to forget her during the day when there’s a stream of sunlight flooding in from the tiny window to my right. But then I lay down at night and reach for her waist, or wait to feel her hand on my cheek, or crane my neck to kiss her, I crash back down to earth and remember that I can’t be with the woman I love because of my idiotic decisions.

Emily manages to get me in touch with an old friend hers who is willing to be my lawyer, a wonderful woman named Fiona. She's blunt and she knows what she's talking about and I appreciate that. And now that I have representation, we can move onto the trial and maybe I can go home. I try to absorb some of Amelia’s optimism and stay hopeful that I’ll be released on bail, but my own nasty pessimism rears its ugly head and pulverizes any sign of hope. 

Fiona wants me to plead guilty to a crime I didn't commit. I'll only get two to five years as opposed to twenty-five to life, but how could I plead guilty? My memories may be blurry for the first time ever but I know I would never kill that woman. That medicine she was providing me with helping my mom. Why would I kill her? There was another person in that motel room and if my brain would just cooperate and just confirm that it was Scratch, this could all be over.

If I plead guilty then Fiona says I can be released on bail pending trial. Rossi said he would be willing to post my bail, no matter the cost. I'm grateful for him and his generosity but as I spend my time sitting and staring at the wall and the ceiling and the concrete and the mold, the more I don't want to plead guilty. I want to fight this. I have complete faith in my team and their abilities to find Scratch. We found him once and we'll find him again.

"I'm gonna fight it."

That's what I tell Fiona. Being the supportive lawyer she is, she nods and goes on her way, but she comes back far too soon. She doesn't return with a suit for my trial or a date for my trial or handcuffs so I can be transported to my trial. She comes back with Emily.

"Spencer," Fiona sighs, "the Mexican authorities found the murder weapon in the desert. The theory is that you threw it out the window in the car chase. The previous offer you didn't want is off the table. The new offer is to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter and get five to ten years."

"Gosh," Emily breathes, hanging her head. "There's nothing you can do?"

"Your DNA is on it and the blade matches the blade that cut your hand," Fiona explains. "Spencer, if you don't take this offer, there will be no more offers. And if you lose your trial, you're going to prison. I need to know what you're going to do."

"I'm-"

"Spencer," Emily cuts me off. "Can we talk privately?"

Fiona nods and collects her things, leaving the room and Emily takes her spot. As soon as the door is closed, I shake my head at Emily. "I can't plead guilty to something I didn't do."

"You could do life in prison," she whispers, and I can see her eyes start to tear up. I ignore them.

"You guys will find Scratch. I know you will." I nod stubbornly, falsely confident.

"Yes, we will. We will never stop looking for him. But what if we can do that this month? Or this year? Or this-" she shutters, "decade? Because we sure as hell can't do it before your trial."

I look down at my hands, observing the bandages over my hand. It stings and burns constantly and I wish it would go away. "How's Amelia? Is she still staying at the BAU?"

"Mostly," Emily responds. "Her friend- Jenna, I think- has come by a bunch to take her home and back. She's stayed at Jenna's a few times but she stays mostly in the interview rooms and in Garcia's room. She's, um, well, she's mad at you, Reid."

I scoff out a laugh, rolling my eyes. "Because I won't let her come here?"

"Exactly," there's no humor in her voice. "She just wants to see you. She wants to see that you're okay and it might help you feel better to see her and talk to her a bit. You can talk out decisions like this with her. She's your girlfriend and you were planning on moving in with her and JJ told us you were supposed to go buy an engagement ring for her. She deserves to be involved in this and not at the BAU, suffering and crying and having panic attacks-"

"She's having panic attacks?" My eyes widen, my back straightening up as the red flags start popping up in my head. Is she okay? Have her attacks been so bad that they have warranted a hospital trip? How is her breathing? Has she gone nonverbal? "Wha- is she-"

"Yeah, she’s had some. She obviously had that one with JJ and Garcia and she had one on Monday and she couldn’t speak for an hour.” 

"She usually goes nonverbal," I murmur, bringing my hands to my face and trying to avoid biting my nails out of nervousness. "Okay, okay, don't ever touch her until she can speak again. Keep a really calm and low voice and don't freak out because that makes it worse. Get her head between her knees and keep her sitting and get her water and-"

"Spencer, I know how to help a panic attack. We need to be talking about your trial," Emily protests.

"And after her attacks, she usually needs physical attention and she needs comfort and sometimes-"

"You're gonna go to prison, Reid!" Emily shouts, effectively shutting me up. "It's scary to accept but we have to talk about it! You could go to prison for a very long time if you don't accept this deal! Stop talking about your girlfriend’s panic attacks and talk about the situation at hand."

My face hardens and I drop my hands again, sighing. "I can't plead guilty. I just can't."

It's the answer she should have expected, and I'm sure she knew it was coming. Before I even finished, she was out of her seat and banging on the door for a guard to take her away. And yet again I'm left to myself and my thoughts, playing the blurry images over and over again, trying to make out faces and events and names. But there's nothing and I'm left to wonder if I'm going to die in a prison cell.

///

AMELIA

///

My dress has bunched up around my thighs but I can't find it in me to pull it down, even in a courthouse. My legs are full of goosebumps from the air conditioning and my denim jacket isn't doing much to help. I stare down at my lap, my hands resting there with Spencer's medallion between my fingers. The empty space on my hand between my pointer finger and thumb looks too empty and it makes my heart beat faster. I look from the medallion to my hand and back, and I suddenly want to rush out of this goddamn courthouse.

"Amelia," I hear Penelope's voice coming closer, and when I look up, the whole team is approaching.

"Hi," I smile weakly, standing and finally adjusting the hem of my dress. "You guys made it. How was the case?"

"Did they call Reid's case yet?" Luke asks, ignoring my formality question about the case.

"No, but they're about to," I shake my head, gesturing to an open door a few feet away.

They all start walking that way, but I don't follow. I make the decision to choose the horrible wooden bench over the even worse pew-like benches in the court. I had been so upset about not seeing Spencer, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Now that I'm faced with the idea of seeing him, I don't want to. I don't want to see him in handcuffs again, or sleep-deprived, or being told off by a judge or prosecutor. I know the BAU has virtually no evidence to support Spencer and that the judge isn't going to rule in his favor. I know that, the pessimist in me knows that. I don't need to see that.

"Amelia?" Dave is standing in front of me and I know it's him from his expensive looking shoes. "You're not coming in?"

"No, I don't need to-" I choke on my words, clutching the medallion in my hand, "to see this happen. I don't want to hear it."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you're not on Spencer's approved visitor’s list?"

"Maybe," It's taken me two years to learn not to lie to a profiler. "I don't know. But I don't want to see him, Dave. Please go. I'll be here."

I don't even need to ask. The look on their faces tells me everything. The way everyone holds themselves when they walk out and the way they glance around tells me what I need to know. Nobody looks up at me and nobody is running to me for a hug. Spencer isn’t at my side. 

I chew on my cheeks and choke down my tears as I stand, meeting them in the middle of the hallway when they walk toward me. "So how bad was it?"

Stephen is the first fearless one to speak up. "The judge decided he was a flight risk,"

I furrow my eyebrows. "A flight risk? Seriously? My Spencer?"

Tara nods shamefully. "He didn't use his FBI passport, he didn't inform the bureau, the prosecutor claimed he had connections all over the world and could get a fake passport and go on the run if he was released on bail. The judge agreed."

"So what now? What happens to him?" Penelope moves towards me and grabs onto my hand, enlacing our fingers. If she didn’t do that, I might have fallen to the floor in a puddle of tears.

"He's gonna go back to the federal jail," Luke answers. "His trial is in three months and that'll determine if he goes to prison or not."

"Penelope?" I whisper and she just hums in response. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course. Whatever you need," Penelope nods, giving everyone a soft, slightly concerned smile before I lead her away.

///

"Um, seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"You or me?"

"Me. Why, do you want one? I'll draw whatever you want."

"No thanks."

I pull open the door and let Penelope walk in first, even though she seems incredibly hesitant, practically tiptoeing through the threshold. She manages to get me to crack a tiny smile, but that's the most she gets before I just revert to my sadness.

"Zav!" I call, noticing the front desk is empty. Nonetheless, I walk up and grab a post-it and a pen, starting to scribble little drawings.

Zav comes wandering from the back of the tattoo parlor at the sound of my voice, smiling. "Oh, hey there! Been a while since I've seen you. Here for some new ink? It's about time you added to your sleeves."

"Just something really quick," I tell him, picking up the post-it with the sixth design I'd drawn. "Not on my arm. On my hand, right here," I gesture to the empty space between my thumb and pointer finger.

"Sounds easy enough," Zav nods, then smiles at Penelope. "Hi, friend. Do I get the pleasure of inking you today?"

Penelope's eyes widen and she hastily shakes her head. "No, no, I'm just here with-- with-"

"No tattoos for her, just me." I save her from more stuttering and Zav puts his hands up in surrender. He winks at Penelope before sitting me in a chair and starting on the stencil.

“So,” Garcia asks over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, “what does this one mean? You've said that all your tattoos mean something. What's this one? And why is it so important that we do it now, after the trial?"

Careful not to disturb Zav's work, I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion. I hold it up and show Penelope the compass, and she nods in a confused understanding. "When Spencer was in recovery, he was always told that north is the right way to go and obviously, going the right way is the road to recovery and being clean. Well, he told me that ever since he met me, he considered me to be his north or his reason to go north. I've been wanting this tattoo for a long time. Just never got around to getting it."

"That's really sweet," Penelope whispers, smiling at me. "How much pain are you in?"

"A lot," I answer through gritted teeth. "This one is right on my bone and those are the worst, but it's small so it's fine. It'll be done soon."

As anticipated, the tattoo is done within another few minutes. A compass rose with north labeled. Simple. But it’s beautiful and it’s the perfect reminder of Spencer while he’s gone. Temporarily gone. He’s going to come home. Soon.

He's going to jail. He's going to be sitting in jail for three months and I won't be able to see him, and then after that, he still might go to prison. No matter how much he reminds himself that I'm his north, and no matter how much time I spend at the BAU, no matter how many of his shirts I wear, no matter how many times I visit Diana and Cassie, it means absolutely nothing. The justice system is horrible and I know they have a job to do but why can't they see that my Spencer is innocent? Sure, he broke some protocol but all he was doing was trying to help his mom. It's not his fault that a serial killer was targeting the team and decided to sabotage his trip. He should be at home on bail and he should be searching for Scratch so his name can be cleared.

"Amelia?" Penelope's voice breaks me out of my trance and I notice that Zav has already walked away, probably to the front desk to ring me up. She rests her hand on my shoulder and gives me that same pitiful smile that everyone keeps giving me. "We're gonna get him out. We know he didn't do this."

"I miss him," I admit shakily, eyes locked on my new ink. "I know that I spend all my time at the BAU but everything reminds me of him. When I go home with Jenna, we pass by the cafe that me and him went to almost every day. Whenever I see someone carrying a revolver on tv or in the building, it makes me think of his gun. God, P, whenever I braid my hair, it makes me think of him. I functioned before I met him but with him, I was living and actually enjoying my life for the first time. But now that he's gone again," I look up at her, my lips quivering, "how am I supposed to live?"

Penelope opens her mouth to answer but then closes it again. She drags me into a hug, tighter than any hug we’ve had before. I let her squeeze the life out of me because it’s the only thing that feels similar to the way Spencer scoops me up and hugs me after being away on a case. "I wish I had a good answer. We're all hurting and we're all trying to get through this. As long as we lean on each other and you leave the crime fighting up to us, we'll get through this."

///

I stir awake, bundled up beneath a scratchy, knitted blanket and my head resting on a flat pillow. A yawn escapes my mouth before I even open my eyes, my body begging me to go back to sleep. I blatantly ignore it though, swinging my legs over the side of the couch and yawning again.

"Good morning, sunshine," Jenna comes wandering into her living room, holding out a cup of tea for me, "sleep well?"

I shake my head, sipping the not-well-made tea. "No,” I keep myself from scrunching up my nose at the odd taste, “I didn’t.” 

Jenna gives me a tiny smile as she sits on the couch beside me. "Maybe you should try melatonin. I heard you watching tv at three in the morning." When I don't respond to her really smart and helpful suggestion, she moves on. "How's the tattoo?"

"Itchy," I glance at the covering of my tattoo, then shrug. "It's whatever. I'm used to it. What are you doing today?"

"Well, me and Frankie were gonna go do a shoot today. You should come. You haven't done any shoots in a while. I'm sure Frankie would love your help," Jenna encourages softly.

I shake my head yet again and take the last drink of my tea, then put the mug on the floor. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna go to the BAU today. But I'm gonna shower first. I'll let you know what I'm doing tonight. Thanks for letting me stay here." And without another word, I stand and walk off to the too-bright bathroom.

Going into the BAU used to always be a fun experience. I looked forward to seeing Penelope and lounging around in her lair, and I looked forward to leaving little gifts for Spencer on his desk, and I looked forward to greeting the team when they arrived home from cases. The BAU quickly became like a second home to me when I started dating Spencer and I went there at every chance I could. But now the BAU is a reminder of the situation at hand, and despite the fact that I'm spending so much time here, I wish I didn't have to. The constant reminder is painful. Seeing Spencer’s desk and all of his belongings arranged in the perfect way he needs them to be is maybe the hardest part. Every time I look through the glass doors, my heart breaks a little more.

I've come to learn that seeing the team huddled up and speaking in hushed tones is never a good thing. But it's the first thing I see when the elevator doors open. My eyes are locked on them before I even open the glass doors to the bullpen. Penelope's eyes are wide and she's clinging to Luke's side and everyone is just looking concerned. That's never a good sign. They are federal agents and have seen the worst of the worst. They should be able to have some kind of poker face, no matter the situation. 

JJ is the first to notice me, and when she looks up, she almost grimaces. "Amelia."

Okay. They didn't get a case. This is about Spencer. Something happened with Spencer. Did he get beat up in jail? Did they find more evidence? If they found more evidence, then it's surely not in Spencer's favor. What did they find? What are they hesitant to tell me? Why does everyone look like they’ll burst into tears if I say one wrong word? What the hell happened?

I keep a few feet between me and them, clutching the straps of my backpack, my breath caught in my throat. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice quieter than I expected it to be. "Is Spencer okay?"

The team shares glances and Penelope bows her head, and all the horrible thoughts in my head intensify. Emily clears her throat and my eyes dart over to her. "Spencer," she speaks strongly and confidently, "was transferred to prison this morning."

Spencer likes to put a mountain of sugar in his coffee. Spencer can only fall asleep if he’s read at least two books while lying in bed. And, of course, only after he has received what he deems as a sufficient amount of kisses from me. Spencer prefers to take the train to work instead of driving. Spencer likes to hold my hand when we walk the street. Spencer orders swirled soft serve at every ice cream parlor. Spencer wears purple whenever he gets the chance.

Spencer doesn't fight. Spencer isn't violent. Spencer isn't a criminal. Spencer hates shooting his gun and he wouldn’t even walk around with it on his hip until I told him it didn't bother me. Spencer doesn't resort to violence to solve his problems. He’s the one who puts the violent people where they deserve. Those killers and rapists deserve to be in prison. Not the man who thinks it’s bad luck to wear matching socks. Definitely not the man who mumbles my name in his sleep and whines if he reaches over and I’m not sleeping beside him.

My Spencer doesn't belong in prison.

I'm stunned into silence for a moment and it's almost like I'm waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke. Spencer's not in prison with the worst of the worst. That he's not with the people that he has spent his life hunting and putting away. He isn’t locked inside with people who could be sentenced to life in prison, or in a cell people who will kill him just to have a new pair of shoes, or people who have nothing left to lose.

"He's-" I gulp but my saliva tastes sour and it burns my throat, "he's in prison?"

"There was overcrowding in the jail," Tara explains softly. "I know it's not ideal but-"

"He's-" I cut her off, my voice sharp, "he's in prison? He's in prison with the same people that you guys put away and he's-" my hands fall from my backpack and tears start to fall down cheeks, my eyes darting around until they land on Rossi. "He's with people like my-"

"Why don't you come with me?" Dave cuts me off, stepping forward, holding his arm out for me.

As I break down into sobs, he leads me into his office, sitting me down on a couch as he closes the door. I curl up into myself and cry, and cry, and cry for my boyfriend who is suffering immensely for a crime he didn't commit. He's locked inside a cage with horrible people like my father and he can't escape.

"Amelia, we're gonna get him out," Dave pulls up a chair in front of me, letting out a sigh that doesn't do much to convince me. "We're spending every second we can on his case and searching for evidence that will-"

"He's gonna be in a fucking prison," I sneer, lifting my head, revealing my smudging makeup and tear-stained cheeks, "with people like my father!" Dave sighs again, ducking his head. He doesn't say anything and I don't know what to make of that. "He's gonna be with killers and rapists and abusers and men who kill their wife and son and leave their orphaned daughter to be abused in foster homes!"

"Amelia, I don't know if this will help you at all but, just so you know, serial killers are not held in general population. Serial killers have their own specific wings and they don't get mixed up with the other inmates."

I scoff, staring down at my lap, watching as my tears drip onto my clothes. "Inmates. I guess that's all he is now, right? An inmate?"

"No, Amelia, he's not just another inmate," Dave shakes his head and leans forward, trying to offer me comfort by proximity, but it just makes me feel cramped and overwhelmed. "We're going to get him out of there. I promise."

His promise only makes me cry more. I'd do anything to hear Spencer make another promise to me. I'd do anything just to see him again, but Spencer didn't want me in a jail and I can't imagine he'd want me in a prison. I won't be able to see him, or hear him, or feel him until he gets exonerated. That's going to take days, weeks, months. It could take years.  Could go years without seeing his smile and feeling his touch and listening to him ramble on and on about whatever random factoid surfaces in his brain.

"You should go back to work," I whisper, wiping my cheeks. "Sitting here and watching me cry doesn't help anyone. I'll go somewhere else and worry by myself."

I stand and adjust my backpack, but the whole world just seems wrong. It seems like it's spinning and it feels like I just don't belong here. It feels like I've slipped into a different dimension that I don't belong in. It feels like I should just be able to take a nap and wake up and Spencer will be right next to me, kissing my neck and telling me he has to go to work. I'm waiting for the day that I can experience that again.

///

SPENCER

///

I never thought I'd be in prison. Maybe that's a dumb statement, but it's true. I thought my closest relation to prison would be sending criminals there, occasionally going in to interview inmates, and seldom breaking up riots and breaks. I never thought I'd be forced into blues and shower shoes and thrown into my own cell. I never thought this would become my life. I never thought I'd be sitting out on the prison yard, surveying my fellow inmates and wondering who I should avoid and who I could trust enough to keep me alive long enough for me to return home.

"Sup?" A group of three men I recognize from previously stroll up to me, their hands tucked in their pockets, and that alone makes me more nervous than their confident aura. I rise to my feet when they approach me, not out of obedience, but just because I don't want them to hold too much power over me in height. "Got any bats?"

I furrow my eyebrows in the slightest. "Bats?" Maybe I should've listened to Amelia when she rattled off her slang. Amelia.

"Cigarettes," the same guy clarifies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, glancing towards his buddy next to him. I fight the urge to jump as the redhead slings his arm over my shoulder, standing uncomfortably close to me. If I wasn't in a prison, I'd rattle off how many germs he passed on to me just by doing that, but I know I'd get beat up for doing so. I keep my mouth shut.

"No, sorry, I don't smoke," it's my honest answer, but I almost instantly regret it. Will they kill me just because I don't have any cigarettes to give them? Is that how it works in here?

"Yeah," that same inmate keeps speaking, "I think I'm gonna quit." But then he narrows his eyes at me and takes a step closer. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," I answer, but I know my unsure sounding voice has completely betrayed me, "I'm o-okay, thanks."

The third man chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. "Does he look okay to you?"

The redhead leans in closer to me and it takes all my self control not to cringe. "Looks like he's gonna cry."

"Or wet his pants," the first man laughs, and the other two join in with their own chuckles. "Hey, we're just messing- out of respect, you know? It's all over the yard that you stole from Milos."

I quickly shake my head, finally gaining the confidence to shake the redhead’s arm off of me. Well, if they said they respect me, I might as well. He doesn't put up a fight when I do so. "But I didn't steal from Milos. That was my stuff."

"No," Redhead interrupts, "that was a tribute. Everyone has to pay when they join the group."

I glance between the three of them and they're all stony-faced, but I'm confused. I don't get it. What are they talking about? It's clear to them, but not to me. "What group?" I dare to ask the question.

The third man scoffs yet again. "You're kidding, right? Take a look around. They outnumber us.”

"So we gotta stick together," Redhead goes on, and it all starts to make sense. A gang. They want me to join their gang. Am I gang material? Is this a compliment? Is this some weird, sick, twisted, prison-style compliment? "In here, we're the minority."

They're serious, and it's obvious. There are no chuckles. There are no side eye glances. My profiler skills aren't going off and telling me that they're lying. They're serious. They want me to join a gang.

What would happen if I accept? Does that make me a target by the majority? Will that make the majority look at me and want to take me out? I have to survive three months, at most, in here and that's it. I have to do whatever I need to stay alive for three months, and that's it. But what if I reject them? Will that make me an even bigger target if I say no? Will they take that rejection lightly? I can't imagine they would. Which is the lesser of the two evils? Do I really want to join a gang during my three month prison stay? Would I want to join a gang at all?

"I'm not interested," I say quickly, and attempt to make a quick exit. "Thanks anyway."

Before I can even leave, they catch me. "No, no, no," the first guy shakes his head, his arm now around my shoulders, his jaw clenched, "that's not the way this is gonna go."

"Hey," the third guy interrupts, "Tony-O is over there and he's waiting for us,"

The first guy pats my chest and, thankfully, lets me go. "Okay, my man, we gotta go. But," the three start to back away with devious smiles that I've seen far too many times on psychopaths, "no worries, we'll catch you tonight."

They'll catch me tonight. That can't be good. My eyes follow them as they approach someone else, but when they start chatting like friends, I look away. But then my eyes land on someone I can't look away from because he looks familiar. I know for a fact I didn't see him in the room of cots, but I know I've seen him before.

Ever since the situation in Mexico, my brain has been a little bit slow to react and recall faces and facts, but suddenly, it comes to me. I squint my eyes as a name flashes in my head. Calvin Shaw. He was an FBI agent who killed a criminal agent who was working for a Russian mob. He turned himself in and he's been here ever since, but I studied his case in school and he's become an example at the bureau of what not to do.

He's here? At this prison? And why is he staring at me like that? Does he know who I am? Do I radiate federal agent energy? Amelia talks about people's energy's all the time. Maybe I should've listened to her. I'm realizing that maybe I should have appreciated her more than I did. If I get out of here, I need to lay down all my love for that girl as soon as possible.

The guards blow their whistles and shout for us to line up so they start the process of corralling us back inside. Some inmates are brought back to their cells while others, like me, are brought to rooms with a bunch of cots lined up.

Time takes forever to pass by in prison. There's nothing to do and there's no type of stimulation. I just sit on my bed and try to tune out the chatter surrounding me. I try my hardest not to let my mind wander off to my friends or my girlfriend or my mother because I'll go crazy if I start worrying about them. They're fine without me, I bet.

I sit on my bed with my knees to my chest and guard the box of things I'd fought to get back from another inmate, making sure they don't get stolen yet again. That decision to reclaim my things almost got me killed once and I don't feel like getting in that situation again.

It's nearly impossible to tell what time it is because there are no windows but eventually, a few guards come by to scream at us to shut up. Wilkins looks around as the room falls silent and then informs us that it’s lights out.

My heart starts to pound when the lights go dark and the guards walk away because, despite the darkness, I see three familiar men rise from their cots and stalk over to me. Like on the yard, I rise to my feet just so they don't get too much power over me. I know that I've made the right decision to do so when one man pulls out a makeshift knife he's clearly made from a bed frame or something he smuggled in. The panic and unfiltered fear settle in. My instincts tell me to run, but there is nowhere to go. I don’t have a gun to defend myself, there is no way to talk these men down like I’ve done to others in the past, there’s nothing I can do. I’m all on my own.

One guy smirks, stepping up to me. "It's party time."

The two other men quickly grab my arms and tie my wrists behind my back, then shove a sock in my mouth to keep me quiet and muffle the sounds of me screaming, just so a guard doesn't come in and interrupt. Is that good? Does that mean they're not planning on killing me? They're just going to beat me up?

They start dragging me off, into the connected bathroom and my screams echo even louder off the wall. I'm doing what I can to get out of the grasps of the men but I've never been physically strong. Maybe I should've taken the fit tests more seriously. Maybe I should've gone training when Morgan asked me to go. Maybe I should've taken my life more seriously.

"So," there's another man with a thick accent standing there already, his arms crossed over his chest, "you're too good to be with us? We offer you friendship and what do you do? Spit in our faces."

The redhead tightens his grip on my arm. "Thinks he can survive in here without our help."

"You," the man with the accent grabs the knife, "you need to show some respect," he brings the knife up to my face and traces the blade across my skin. I'm not sure what they're planning on doing to my face but I know it won't feel good.

"Do it," one guy encourages, smirking.

"Back off," there's another voice now, and the four men holding me stop in their tracks, "now." I turn my head to see who my savior is, and it's none other than Calvin Shaw. "Untie him," he says, and the guys behind me quickly do so, and take the sock out of my mouth. "Now get out of here," he tells me and gestures back into the main room. I hesitate, but Calvin gives me a pointed look. "Go on. Go."

I high tail it out of there, my heart pounding harder than it ever has before. I think it could positively burst out of my chest as I return to my cot. It dawns on me now how many people are in this room, and not a single one of them stepped up to help me. Nobody yelled for a guard or helped me fend off the gang or did anything at all.

So I sit down on my cot and I don't even lay down. I don't dare to go to sleep and I barely even blink. I'm even paranoid that, due to the position of my cot, there are people behind me that I can't see. I'm too freaked out. I'm too scared that those men will come back and kill me for real.

I've faced the scariest men and women in the world. I've witnessed things that I never should have and I've talked myself out of horrible situations. I can't escape this. I can't flash my identification or shoot a few bullets and then go home to Amelia. I can't do that. I have to spend every second of my life with my guard up, watching my back at the same time I'm watching my front and my sides just to make sure no one is coming for me. It's day one and I'm already panicked and I'm already lost. I just want to go home.

///

The next two days are like walking on eggshells. I'm constantly watching my back, front, and sides and I'm making sure to keep everyone in front of me at all times. I can't move my cot without risking a fight so I'm barely sleeping at night. I force myself to stay awake to guard myself and protect myself from any possible attacks.

I get to have a talk with Calvin at a time when the cell blocks are open, and he shows nothing but compassion for me. He believes my innocence, shares the story of his sentence, and gives me a book I've never read before. It feels good to have someone I can trust. I can tell he's powerful in this prison, judging by the way he told those gang guys to stop beating me up and they immediately complied. Sitting in his cell is the only time I allowed myself to relax in the slightest.

But that relaxation is short lived because soon the guards are telling us to get back to where we belong. We get cuffed and shoved along to our cells or wherever else, and I get back to my cot. I sit with my knees to my chest and prop my eyes wide open, despite how utterly exhausted I am. I've barely slept in the three days I've been here and I don't know how much longer I can stand this.

"Reid," my name is called by a guard along with a few other names, and we all quickly rise to our feet. "Grab your things and let’s go."

I quickly grab my little bucket of belongings that I've been guarding with my life and hold it close to my chest as I approach the guards. I'm thankful that they don't cuff us as they take us one by one into different blocks.

Wilkins, of course, is gripping my arm harder than he needs to be as he shoves me along a corridor. I keep my eyes forward and no matter how badly I want to see what prisoners I'm walking past, I don't let my eyes wander. I've already seen a guy beat someone else up on the yard just for looking at him and I'm not wanting that to be my future.

"Hold," Wilkins snaps, and I force my feet to freeze in their spot. Then I feel him shoving me inside with, again, more force than needed. "Now get in there." Once I wiggle my way through, not really fitting with the tray I'm holding, Wilkins shouts for the door to close. He gives me another look before stomping away, leaving me all alone in my new home.

I set my tray down on the little table beside me and immediately notice the book on the bed. It's the one that Calvin had told me about yesterday, and I guess he arranged for it to be in my cell.

"Hey," I suddenly hear Calvin's voice from the cell beside mine, "welcome to the neighborhood!"

///

AMELIA

///

I throw my backpack onto the floor of my apartment, locking the door behind me, groaning in pain with every step I take. I dread when I'll eventually have to walk up to my room, but I plan on avoiding it as long as possible.

I start on my walk to the kitchen for a drink, probably a huge glass of wine, but then I stop in my tracks when there's a small, cold breeze against my legs. I shake it off and drag myself into the kitchen. The window is closed and the plants on the windowsill are half dead. Of course, they are. I haven't been home enough to water them.

I grab a wine glass from a cabinet that's far too high for me, definitely placed there by Spencer, and fill it almost to the brim. I toss the entire drink back in seconds and then pour another drink. Once I have my second glass in my hand, I fill a new glass with water and start to feed my dead plants that are probably past the point of return. Once I've quenched the kitchen plants, I move to the bigger one beside the balcony door.

As I approach it, I roll my eyes. I've located the source of the breeze and it's coming from the cracked open balcony door. I’ve left the door open for two days straight. I shake my head at myself and pour the rest of the water into the plant before closing and clicking the lock on the balcony door.

I barely even realize that my hand starts to shake while I pour the water into the plant. I'm blinded by tears that I don't feel coming and something in my mind tells me that the more wine I drink, the less I'll cry. Drink more wine. Drink more wine. So I gulp down the rest of my wine glass and ignore it as my head starts to get fuzzy.

I throw both glasses into the sink and then grab the cracked open wine bottle, taking a long sip. Drink more wine. Drink more wine.

It smells sweet in the kitchen. Did I light a candle? What in the kitchen smells like bubblegum?

My body is moving around the kitchen and through the living room, but my brain is so fuzzy and everything is so blurry that it doesn’t even feel like I’m moving. I feel like I’m floating with my lids drooping closed, hands moving like they’re being told to. I nearly collapse against the couch, but it feels like I’m pulled back up and pushed back to my feet. Drink more wine. You want to drink more wine. 

I grab the bottle and chug down the rest of the contents, my trembling hand dropping it to the ground. I barely even jolt when it shatters at my feet.

The glass, it feels like I have a voice whispering instructions in my ear. Pick up the glass. I fall to my knees and grip a piece of jagged glass in my hand, watching blood come to the surface and stain the clear surface. Tighter. I oblige, watching a drop of blood fall to the floor. A drop stains my jeans. Go to the stairs. 

I toss the glass aside and crawl to the stairs, collapsing at the bottom and dropping my head onto a stair. I bring my knees to my chest, my cries fill the apartment as I slump down, my whole body shaking as I sob. I'm not sure how long it takes me to fall asleep on the staircase, but I do, and the alcohol keeps me asleep the whole night, something I haven't been able to do in a while.

///

"Amelia? Hey, are you here? I hope you are, the door's unlocked."

I whine as I'm roused from my sleep, and as I start to move, I'm expected to be comforted by my duvet. But instead, I go sliding down two steps of my staircase, groaning as I hit my hip. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes as I process the intense pounding in my head.

"Are you-" Penelope comes and stands in front of me, freezing when she sees me, "whoa, you look awful."

I let out a humorless laugh, rolling my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

She observes my surroundings- bloody hand, smudged makeup, messy hair, wrinkled clothes, tear-stained cheeks, sleeping on the stairs. It's not hard to tell what's going on, especially for someone who has been hanging around profilers for over a decade. I'm sure everyone on the team can see that I'm spiraling, and it's obvious to Penelope too.

"How'd you get in?" I ask, shakily pushing myself to my feet and grabbing onto the railing to steady myself.

"Well, I knocked and you didn't answer but the door was unlocked. I came to check up on you because I know you were really upset yesterday. I, well,” she pauses, wringing her hands together, “I'm not really sure what I say but I'm really sorry if I-"

"No," I cut her off, shaking my head, hugging the railing and trying to hide my bloody hand from her view. She looks utterly heartbroken, but I'm not sure what the cause is. If it's because of Spencer or because I lost my cool at the BAU, I'm not sure. "I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault. I overreacted. Um," my eyes wander down to the ground and I ignore the few pieces of random broken glass that have trailed towards the stairs, "I was just kinda upset. Then when Dave was talking to me, he promised that you guys would get him out of prison. Promising was kind of mine and Spencer's thing. Him saying that just made it so much worse."

"O-Oh," Penelope's eyebrows pop up, "I had no idea."

I nod and fall back onto the stairs. "When we first met and he told me he didn't shake hands, I went home and I just thought about how we could do something similar to shaking hands but not actually shaking hands. One of the options I presented to him the next time we saw each other was pinky promising. He liked it and it just stuck. Promising just became our thing." Penelope stares at me, her lips turned downward and her hands laced in front of her, head bowed. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. Thanks for checking up on me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Penelope just slightly perks up now, lifting her head and giving me an attempt at a smile. “If you need anything, let me know. And make sure to double check that your door is locked.”

“I will, thanks,” I turn on my heel and start stumbling up the stairs, clinging to the railing for support. My brain is pounding against my skull and I can’t keep a thought in my head for more than a second. My hand is throbbing.

“Hey,” Penelope pauses at the door, looking up at me, “did you light a candle?” I shake my head. “Hmm. It smells like bubblegum in here.” 

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrrywildflower​ @penemily​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​

[winchest09]

Dirty Little Secret

Title: Dirty Little Secret

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 2979 (Again...close to the limit. Sorry not sorry :P )

Summary: Dean liked to keep you under wraps, he liked to keep you his secret. So when you decide that you’ve had enough of being hidden, Dean makes sure you know exactly where you stand. 

Rating: 18 +. NSFW

Warnings: Smut. Car smut. Wall Smut. Unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) Fem oral sex. Blow jobs. Fingering. Angst. Angsty smut. Orgasms. Swearing. 

A/N: Ok so this is my entry for @purpleskiesandcherrypies​ Purple’s 4k smut challenge (check it out!)  Once again, congrats on all the followers hun! Hope you like the oneshot! :) 

The quote i chose was #21 “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it!” This will be outlined in bold.

Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :) I’ll give you a virtual hug if you did reblog or comment, means the world <3

—————————————— Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

The windows of the impala were steamed over as Dean pounded you into the backseat. The stubble on his face, rubbing against your collarbone as he kissed at your neck. You moaned, angling your hips so he could fuck you harder and deeper. At the slight movement change, Dean growled lowly, unhooking your legs from around his waist and placing them around his neck instead.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted, your flexibility allowing him to fuck you in angles he’d only ever dreamed of.

You tried to grasp at the leather beneath you, Dean’s dick hitting your sweet spot over and over again; his fingers rubbing at your clit coaxing you towards your release. You screamed his name, not caring if anyone could hear you. You had never had anyone make you feel as good as he did and boy, did he make you feel good.

Your legs were starting to jelly, your breathing was ragged as Dean’s hips started to stutter. “Cum for me, Y/N” he husked, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple. Your pussy clenched as you saw dots, you milked his cock for every last drop as he came deep inside you, both of you riding out your highs.

Dean collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as you let your legs fall apart. The sweet ache of muscles you loved so much appearing in your thighs. You lightly scrapped your nails up and down Dean’s back lovingly, before resting your palm on the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.

“Got to admit, I’m starting to enjoy these little shopping trips of ours,” Dean mumbled against your lips, a teasing tone accompanying his wiggling eyebrows. You rolled your eyes as you pushed at his shoulder, the indicator for him to get off you. 

“Starting? You mean you haven’t enjoyed the 5 previous ‘trips’ we’ve been on?” You smiled knowingly, using air quotations to point out the obvious before reaching for your recently discarded clothes.

Dean pulled his shirt over his head, quickly dressing on his backseat. “Ah, sweetheart, you know it only gets better each time with you.” He winked, a smug smile on his face.

“Smooth, Winchester.” You grinned, shaking your head gently as you shuffled into your jeans. “Although, we’d have a lot more fun in the bunker ya know.” You winked back at him, wanting him to pick up on your insinuation of all the places you could fuck him. You also wanting him to pick up on the fact that you were also fed up of hiding your relationship. Dean shrugged his flannel into place, not willing to look you in the eye. 

“This is our secret Y/N, we don’t need Sam finding out just yet,” he stated, a dominant tone to his voice. You just nodded slightly, hearing the same excuse leave his lips. You didn’t understand the big deal of Sam knowing. Before you could even question it, Dean had made his way to the driver’s seat. 

“Time to get the supplies in,” he announced as he started the engine, speeding off towards the town, not even giving you a chance to join him up front.

After stocking up on the usual, you and Dean hightailed it back to the bunker. Armed with the weekly groceries, you both made your way down the metal stairs, coming face to face with Sam who was sat at the war room table surrounded by notes.

“Hey, what took you guys so long?” Sam questioned, making you stop, your tummy flipping. He’s got to suspect something right?

Dean just shrugged, nonchalantly and placed the haul in front of his little brother.

 “Long line in the pie store,” he said casually, grabbing himself and Sam a beer from the bags.

Sam took note of the bags and smiled slightly, “you said that last time you went,” he observed and you started to fiddle with the bags you were holding, “anyone would think you two were having sex in secret,” he continued, smiling as he took a quick sip from the bottle.

You went wide eyed, he knew. The fucker knew and he was playing with you. You knew this was it, you could finally admit that you were in a relationship with Dean and there would be no more sneaking around. No more ‘shopping trips’ that take longer than needs be. You looked towards Dean who had just spat out his beer in shock at Sam’s statement. 

“What with Y/N? Are you serious?” he questioned, an amused smile on his face as he looked between you and Sam, pointing at you with his bottle. “I mean she’s alright looking but you know not my type. At all. Need bigger…you know, dress a little more…well. You know me, Sammy, I just like my cheap thrills.” Dean shrugged, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags for the pie.

Sam looked towards you with an apologetic look on his face as you stood there, heartbroken. Each one of Dean’s words cutting you deeper than you could have ever imagined. You’d given yourself to this man, wholeheartedly but to hear him degrade you like that? Call you a cheap thrill? You couldn’t take it anymore and you wouldn’t do it anymore. You forcefully dropped the bags to the floor in front of you as you stormed to your room, intent on leaving the bunker and the Winchesters indefinitely.

Sam grimaced at your actions and looked towards his brother who was currently cutting into his pie, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Sam shook his head in disbelief at his brother, earning him a confused glance from Dean.

——————————————

You wiped the tears from your face as you shoved what little you owned into the duffel bag on your bed. You couldn’t believe what Dean had said, that you meant so little to him. You’d only been packing for fifteen minutes when you heard your door open behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was and your blood boiled.

“Get out,” you seethed, your voice low, your body shaking with anger.

Dean just shut the door behind him “Y/N…” he said softly, holding one hand out in front of him as he tried to reason with you.

You just shook your head as you continued to furiously pack your things. “Just leave me alone, Dean. You said all you had to say out there. 6 months I’ve given myself to you, 6 months I’ve put up with your bullshit but after hearing what you truly think of me? Not wanting to admit what we had to Sam? This…” you motioned between the two of you “…Is done,” you spat.You saw the sudden change in Dean, his stance becoming defensive and his eyes dark. 

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” he shouted, his tone strong and domineering, “Do you want me to call you baby, huh? Say that you’re all that I need, all that I want? You knew what this was, we’re just friends,” he asserted, staring you down.

“Just friends?” You stared at him in disbelief, anger bubbling away inside of you, your hands twisting at the one converse shoe in your hands, “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it!” you shouted as you launched the shoe towards him, fury pumping your veins. Dean had to be quick, he ducked as the shoe bounced of the closed door before he focused on you once again, his tone changing.

“Y/N,” Dean warned, his voice dangerously low.

Your chest was rising and falling with each breath you heaved. You couldn’t believe him, you wanted to punch him, hurt him. You were done. You became assertive and you squared your shoulders, pointing towards the green eyed Winchester. 

“No. I’m done with your shit Dean. You don’t want me to have sex with anyone bar you, you threaten any guy that tries to put moves on me, you won’t let me hunt alone, you rarely let me leave this bunker on my own in case something happens to me.” You shook your head, scoffing under your breath as you zipped up your duffel, “you’ve seen me naked more times than I can count, you’ve put yourself in front of danger for me and you took a bullet for me like an idiot. You come to me when you have nightmares to cuddle me and you want me to believe that we’re just friends?” You ran your hands through your hair, your mind replaying his previous words over and over again. “Fuck. You,” you stated fiercely, daring to stare him down.

You broke his gaze, not wanting him to see the tears that were beginning to well in your eyes as you grabbed your duffel with one hand, your coat with the other. Dean eyed your movements and he broadened his stance. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” he threatened.

You smiled slightly, even now he wouldn’t let you go. “No?” you challenged “Watch me.”

You stormed towards him, your eyes trained on the door in front of you. As you became level with Dean, he waited for you to pass just slightly before he made his move. You didn’t even have time to blink. He grabbed you by the wrist and swung you around, snatching at your bag and throwing it to the side as he pinned you up against the wall.

“You’re not leaving. You’re mine, sweetheart,” Dean growled possessively, his eyes burning into yours as he stared you into submission.

You felt your body quiver with anticipation, reacting to his touch. You felt betrayed by yourself. Not a word was spoke as his green eyes bore into yours, flickering from one side to the other as he tried to seek your permission for what he wanted to do. When he noticed your eyes dilate, Dean’s lips slammed onto yours.

You whimpered under Dean, his hands still gripped onto your wrists pinning you to the wall, his kiss passionate against your lips. He trailed his kisses down your neck and peppered them across your chest, the tip of his tongue trailing over your skin. He released your hands and immediately went for the hem of your top, ripping it up over your head before you could protest. Not that you wanted too. You hadn’t had sex in the bunker before, so you’d be damned if you were going to stop him now.

He ripped down the cups of your bra, your nipples reacting to the cool air before Dean’s hands moulded to them. He kneaded them, tweaked at your buds as his lips attacked your skin. He trailed his tongue slowly down between the valley of your breasts, kissing every so often. His hands ghosted down your sides, his fingers dancing across your skin as he worshipped your body. His tongue eventually got to the waistband of your jeans and he placed a kiss just under your naval as his hands began to work on shredding you of your clothes.

Popping open the button and pulling at your zipper, Dean continued to undress you. His large hands yanked at your jeans as he pulled them and your panties down in one go, his nose pressed against your mound. You felt his hot breath fanning over your folds as he encouraged you to step out of your garments. Dean’s hands came either side of your thighs, his lust filled orbs looking up at you.

“Spread ‘em,” he commanded.

“De,” you whispered breathlessly, your hand holding onto his shoulders. You were stood practically naked in front of him, in your bedroom, in the bunker. You suddenly became aware that Sam could and probably would hear you and you knew Dean didn’t want his brother to know about this.

“Did I stutter? Spread. Them,” he commanded again, the authoritative tone in his voice causing your pussy to pulse.

You did as he ordered and you heard a deep rumble come from Dean’s chest. His mouth watering at the sight of you as he saw the slick that was already coating your folds. He wasted no time, he ran his tongue from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up and you couldn’t help but moan loudly. He was relentless, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nub, sucking on it as you felt his fingers stretch you.

You clawed your fingers through his hair, desperately trying to hold onto him to keep your balance. His fingers worked you, curling at your sensitive spot over and over again as his tongue swept through your folds. You felt your legs begin to shake, the sensitivity of it all pushing you onto your tiptoes but Dean was relentless. He was eating you out like he was a man starved. With the familiar coil in your tummy tightening, your breathing became ragged and you moaned his name over and over again. Dean picked up the pace with his fingers, his tongue matching the speed and you came harder than you have in a while.

You felt Dean beginning to stand so you opened your eyes, only to be met with a smug grin. A grin that was covered in your juices. He kissed you, slowly, wanting you to taste yourself on his lips as he undid his own bottoms, using one hand to guide yours to his cock. Dean pulled away from your lips and you whimpered at the loss of contact. He brought his large hand to the side of your face and caressed your cheek before placing it on your shoulder, encouraging you to get on the floor.

With quaky legs, you fell to your knees, taking his throbbing cock into your mouth. You lips sucking at the tip before you took him all the way down to the hilt, gag reflex be damned. You heard him growl above you and felt him lean on the wall for support. You moaned around his cock, letting him go with a pop before allowing your tongue to trace up the underside. You eagerly sucked away the precum that had beaded on the tip before taking him to the hilt once more. You bobbed your head, swirled your tongue and tasted almost everything he had to offer. Above you, Dean was beginning to pant heavily and you knew that meant he was close. He however, had other ideas.

Pulling you up roughly, he slammed you back into the wall, his hard cock nudging against your belly. 

“As much as I’d love to come in that pretty mouth,” he husked, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip, “I’m going to fill up that pussy of yours. I want to see it dripping.”

Your clenched at his words and you just nodded, your mind unable to form words. Dean roughly ran his hand through your hair as he pulled you flush to him. His lips crashing onto yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth with a dominance to which you could only submit. His hands resting just under your ass, grabbing at your thighs as he lifted you up, placing your back against the wall for support.

Without a word, he lined himself up at your entrance and thrust into you, filling you perfectly. You tried to throw your head back but you couldn’t, Dean was holding you tightly against the wall, his length buried deep inside you. He grunted in your ear when your pussy clenched around him, you were urging him to move. The delicious burn wasn’t enough, you needed him to fuck you and you needed him to own you.

And own you he did. He withdrew his dick slowly, his breath ragged before he entered you again, hard. He picked up his pace, your breasts bouncing with each thrust as he fucked you senseless. He lowered you down the wall slightly, allowing him to fuck you deeper and harder. Your toes curled and your legs tightened around him, the new angle allowing him to hit your cervix in a spine tingling way. You knew your back was going to be bruised but you didn’t care, you cared about the man who was balls deep inside you, his lips biting at the nape of your neck. You knew his marks would litter your skin and it made you clench once more.

“F-fuck, Y/N,” Dean groaned against your skin at the feeling. He sucked and nibbled at your skin before starting at your breasts that were bouncing hard against your body.

You felt the familiar coil in your stomach tighten once more and you felt your legs tighten with it. This only encouraged Dean to fuck you harder against the wall, giving everything he had as skin hitting skin was the echoing around your room.

“D-d-dean,” Was all you managed, an orgasm washing over you, your juices coating Dean’s cock.

With your pussy pulsing, Dean’s movements started to stutter and you clawed at his back. You were milking him for everything he had. With one hard thrust, Dean came hard and he rested his head against your shoulder, steadily coming down from his high.

He slowly and carefully, lowered your legs to the floor, withdrawing his spent dick as he did so. You stood shakily, near enough naked in front of him, his cum dripping down your legs as you panted. Dean smirked at the sight, running his tongue over his lower lip as he tucked himself back into his pants.

As he stepped forward, he placed his lips on your temple, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. He ran his finger through your cum soaked folds before bringing them up to pinch your chin, looking you square in the eye. 

“Don’t ever think of leaving me again, sweetheart.”

A/N -  Hope you enjoyed the smut! Promised a smut oneshot would be out this evening. Let me know your thoughts HERE! :)

Also - my tag lists are open. Just let me know if you want to be added! 

Thanks for reading! xox

Forevers:

@squirrel-moose-winchester @researchandbones @negans-lucille-tblr @snffbeebee @cappsikle

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

Catch your breath part 6

A/N: So, we’re on the last chapter of this series! I can’t describe how happy I am for all your feedback, likes and reblogs. This was one of my first ever stories, so it’s very dear to me – it’s kind of bittersweet to let it go, but, all good things must come to an end.

I might do a sequel stretching two chapters at some point, but for now I’m just going to finish this right here, and leave it be.

I must give a HUGE thank you and the biggest virtual kiss to the lovely @redeyedvixen for helping me on this chapter – I don’t know how I would have finished this story as perfectly without you. Thank you!

Now, enjoy the finale – remember, you can always send me requests, and your feedback is GOLDEN to me.

 Missing something?  PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

MASTERLIST (mobile version) MASTERLIST (desktop version)

 Jensen x reader

Warnings: none (unless you count plenty of cavity-creating-fluff as a warning)

  3 years later

 You were pacing, your dress’ hem ruffling along the soft carpet. You tried to give yourself a mental pep-talk, to calm yourself a bit, but nothing worked. You grunted annoyed and sat down on the chair in front of the mirror – you gazed into it, giving yourself a quick once-over.

Your makeup was done to perfection – a smoky eye in warm, earthy tones framed your bright eyes, a pink tone on your lips, making them look fuller than they actually were, and a faint blush colored your cheeks – that wasn’t makeup, that was nerves.

You grumbled loudly, burying your face in your hands, mumbling incoherent words to yourself. “Jesus, dude, what’s gotten into you? The dress isn’t sitting right, or..?” A voice came from behind you. Your head snapped up – Y/F/N stood behind you, a smile on her face and a beautiful, wooden box in her hands. “No… Just.. Y/FN, what the hell am I doing?” You sighed, tears burning in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Wow, Y/N, what’s going on?” Your friend’s face fell, and she rushed to your side, squatting so she was at level with you. You sighed.

“I just…. It’s just fast. I don’t know, Y/F/N, it just seems…” You sighed again, your best friend’s hand resting you’re your knee. “Dude, what? You were over the moon for this a few days ago – what’s happened? Did he do something?” She said, anger suddenly filling her eyes. “No, nothing like that. I just… Why would he want me? I’m just… Little me. He could get someone way better than me.” Tears were spilling down your cheeks as the words left your mouth. “Oh, Y/N…” She sighed. “This requires more help. Wait here.” You looked at her with wide eyes, as she rushed from the room, leaving you to your own thoughts. Bad idea.

You started hyperventilating mildly, thoughts rushing to the forefront of your mind. This was insane. Jensen could choose anyone – he had had plenty of offers – and he wanted you. Maybe it was pity. Maybe he felt like he was so deep in it, that it would be a hassle to back out now. You were just a normal, somewhat-tired-looking woman, he’d been working with.

You were hyperventilating hard now. Your hands shook, sweating wildly, and you looked at your dress – ivory-white, formfitting around your waist and a flowing skirt to finish it off – it was rustling, your body making it shake.

“Y/N?” His voice came from behind the closed door. “Jensen?” You answered incredulously. This was a turn of events you hadn’t expected. “You can’t be here, it’s bad luck.” You said, trying to joke – it was somewhat diminished by your shaky voice. “Y/N… Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You sighed, leaning against the door – his voice traveled perfectly clear through the thick, wooden frame. “I… I don’t know. I just… Why do you want me? You could’ve had any other girl in the world.” You said, defeat clear in your voice. “Baby, stop that. I love you. I don’t want anyone else, just you. You’re my perfect girl.” You laughed a bit at that. “Listen, I… From the moment I first saw you, I knew. I knew I wanted you in my life, and I didn’t care how it happened. And when you opened your mouth, the joke about my eyes… I just… I fell in love with you instantly. You’re perfect to me, Y/N. Your entire being is perfect. The way your eyes light up, whenever I tell you I love you, or the glint you get when you’re plotting something… Your voice is like a saving grace, babe. It calms me so much, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you and your love, but I’m damn lucky to have it. I’ll work the rest of my life to earn your love, you know that, right?” He said quietly. You could practically feel the love from him, ebbing slowly from the other side of the door, and warming your body – calming you. “Jensen…” You said. “No, don’t do that, babe. You’re perfect for me. I never would want anyone but you. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily, Y/N.” He smiled. “Promise?” You asked in a timid voice. “I promise.” The answer came without hesitation.

“Did Y/F/N give you my gift?” He asked after a moment. “What gift?” You asked questionably. He laughed. “The wooden box. I gave it to her to give to you. I couldn’t do it myself – it’s bad luck to see the bride, you know.” You could almost hear the wink he sent you through the door, and you giggled. “Hang on, she left it on the table.” You had spotted the box and rushed to get it, returning to the door with the box in your hands.

“Well? Open it, Y/N!” He laughed. You smiled and popped the box open. A small gasp escaped your lips – it was beautiful. A thin, rose-gold-chain laid delicately on the velvet stuffing, a round, beautifully etched locket at the center of the chain. “Jensen… It’s beautiful.” You sighed, gently pulling the chain from the box, the small locket dangling slightly. “I, uh, got the word “forever” etched into it in Enochian. You like it?” You stared at it; the letters “IO-AID” carved in small writing on the bottom of the locket. “I thought it was fitting in enochian.” He whispered. “I love it, Jensen.” You whispered. “Open the locket.” He said, and you could hear his smile in his words. You gently popped the locket open, and tears ran down your face. It was a picture from the first con, a simple still of the two of you, gazing into each other’s eyes – it had been taken at the moment, Jensen had confessed he liked you. “Babe….” You didn’t know what to say. “Thought it would go well with the ring.” He said simply. You grinned. It did – it matched perfectly with the simple, rose-gold band he had given you, when he proposed; a single, pear-shaped diamond laid in the center. “Thank you, Jensen. This is…” You stared at it. “I know.” He said, emotions thickening his voice. He cleared his throat after a few moments. “I’ll see you at the altar?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You smiled. “I’ll be the one in white.” “I’ll be the sobbing mess next to Jared.” He said. “I love you, Y/N.” “Love you too, Jensen.”

You grinned, as Y/F/N stepped into the room, a relieved smile on her face. “Wanna go get hitched, or what?” She asked. You nodded and followed her down the steps to the doors that led outside.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining high on the sky, and the air was full of flowers. You briefly thanked the lord, that he had avoided rain today, as you watched Y/F/N walk down the isle arm in arm with Jared. You stood, clutching your Dad’s arm, and looked at him with a small smile. “Let’s get this show on the road, kiddo.” He had said, as he started walking down towards your waiting husband to be.

Jensen hadn’t lied – he was the one sobbing next to Jared, who tried to calm him a little, but to no avail. Jensen had spotted you, his eyes trained on your face, and tears had poured out – he later said, he ‘d never see anything as beautiful as you that day.

The ceremony was quiet, personal and perfect. Everyone had sat in the white chairs turned towards the altar, which was an arch, surrounded by roses and Lilies of the Valley, gently swaying in the warm breeze. You had said your wows, choking up slightly, and Jensen had done the same – a promise to love each other for life, a promise of a future, a promise of everything good in this world. The cast, your families and friends, had cried out, whooped and sobbed in joy, as you had kissed after the final “I do’s” – a sweet, beautiful kiss, emotions and promises unsaid, laced into it.

 As you left the altar, your husband’s arm soundly around your waist, you smiled and looked up at him. His eyes glowed with love, a gentle smile on his lips, and as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head, simply said:

“Until forever, Y/N.”            

 TAG-LIST: @hobby27, @trustnobodyshootfirst

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk (I Love you all so much!)

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Divide-Chapter Seven-Save Myself

“Baby, I Need You,” she knew what she sounded like, and had been distracting herself in every possible way to keep herself from making this call. Laurel had spent hours in the gym, had volunteered to cut patterns at work, and who knows how much time she had spent at the hospital.

She’d also been patently avoiding Willy. Laurel was fed up with herself. She felt like she was stringing him along and it was killing her. Two weeks ago she was all in. His accent made her quiver and he was everything she loved in a man, sexy and androgynous and talented. Even better, he was available and into her. He’d made it clear that he wanted her, but that included dates and doting and the deed.

Their first date he had arranged to close down a gallery and he’d shown her work by his favorite photographer. Laurel completely expected to walk in to rows of pictures of beautiful people and to be bored. She saw a lot of fashion photography at work. More concerning, what if the walls were full of him? Laurel could tell they had potential, he’d put his hand on her lower back and the region had lit up like a Christmas trees. Laurel was afraid if he was proven so hopelessly superficial already that her budding feelings, the first she’d had since she’d walked into Harry’s house two years ago for anyone but him, would wilt.

Laurel was pleasantly surprised to walk into a virtual photostory about human dignity in the midst of war and poverty and plague. Then, Willy further blew her away by explaining how he’d met the photographer once when he was visiting his family in Vietnam and that he’d spent most of his trip traveling with him and the volunteer work it sparked. He was heavily involved with water projects and had dug several wells in his off time. He then took her to a tiny noodle shop and they talked over £5 bowls of ramen for hours.  He told her about Frank and their break up and how no one had caught his eye until her. It was great, and her mind only wandered to Harry a couple times, a record for sure.

The date ended well too. He’d walked her to her flat door and kissed her cheek so close to the corner of her mouth it had left her breathless. He’d then pressed his gorgeous lips to each of the back of Laurel’s hands and said, “I’ve had a lovely time. May I see you again tomorrow?”

Wow, very different from the relationship she was used to. Though that was a very loose term. And he did turn up the next day, and everyday they were available for weeks. And he didn’t kiss her, not for a long while, let alone receive her advances when she made her attraction known. Willy simply acknowledged and returned the appreciation. By the time they finally did kiss, right before going to a pub one evening, strangely close to Harry’s house, she was floating. His lips were perfect and he was so gentle and he cupped her jaw in his hands like she was made of glass.

She’d loved it. However, when she slept with him the night they ran into Harry again she was disappointed. He also touched her like she was made of glass. Willy was so slow to enter her and hesitant with his strokes. It felt good, but wasn’t enough. She’d taken the reins and found herself closing her eyes to climax, not to focus on sensation, but to visualize another set of eyes, another body. Willy’s body was beautiful, but completely unmarred, no dark etchings or moles or unexplainable chubs.

Harry occasionally touched her like she was spun glass, he’d then temper her with fire and test her strength. It was the contrast that made their communion unbelievable. Willy wasn’t so much bad, but he suffered by comparison.

So, after her first time accepting Willy into her bed and body, she found herself texting Harry. His hold had never broken, just slackened. 

The next morning, she was so regretful she promised herself she would not contact him. Laurel threw herself into Willy’s arms and exhausted herself trying to force the connection. He was so ideal otherwise.

When that wasn’t working, she headed to the gym.

Sweat dripped down over her brow as she pushed herself through the set she was on. The cold of the universal bar sat across the meaty part of her upper back. Laurel bent her legs and held her core in tight until her thigh paralleled the ground. She pushed up through her heels and grunted. She’d intended to bench press today, but when she laid down on the bench she remember last September when she had worked out with Harry and the push and pull always present between them resulted in her balancing on her tightly closed knees, hands clutching the textured center of a thick barbel while Harry groaned behind her. The gym was ruined she guessed.

The next day, she went in to work early and stayed late, telling Willy that Ed had a private client to prepare for. Not a lie, more a fib. She cut the silk chiffon in front of her and put away thoughts of a similar folded fabric tied across her eyes so that her vision was obscured, not blocked. Laurel put that out of her mind and focused on the seam cutter she was using to open a hem until she heard Ed on the phone

“Yes, of course Mr. Styles, Laurel is here, would you like me to send it with her?” Ed asked.

She looked up frantically and shook her head twice, Ed got the message and found an alternative before he hung up. He looked at her quizzically but she stared him down until he bowed his head and stopped silenty asking. When he walked by, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Later, when he saw her shady button Willy, he was the one shaking his head.

The following day, her libido was in the backseat, but her emotional need was overwhelming. The air was stale and blowing hard enough to pebble every bit of exposed skin while she listened to the doctor. Laurel’s first instinct, after she emptied her stomach into a bin outside the sliding walls of glass, was to call Harry.

“Baby, I need you,” she said frantically.

“God, Laurel I need you too. What’s going on? It sounds windy,” Harry’s voice ticked up at the end.

“It’s the blower above the door. Can I come over?” She was already walking towards the tube.

Harry hesitated a moment, and she was relieved when he responded, “yeah, I’m on my way home. Should be there, like, in 5 minutes?”

“I think I could be with you in a half hour,” Laurel guessed as she scanned her Oyster card, “I’m going underground, I’ll see you soon.”

Once on the train she rocked herself back and forth and sang tupelo honey under her breath. Her mother always sang that to calm her down.

The intermittent rain that hung over London like a blanket was coming down when she exited the station near Harry’s place. Laurel barely felt it until her clothing was soaked through and a chill, separate from the one in her bones, crept in.

When Harry opened the door to her he tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look before pulling her inside and into his warm arms.

“You are wet through! Let me put on the kettle and get you some dry clothes,” he said as he pulled her from the foyer into his living room. “Just give me a minute.” He ventured up the stairs.

Laurel wasn’t sure what compelled her to follow him. Probably that when his arms were around her it was the warmest she had felt since the doctor came into the room.

Harry looked surprised by her presence in his room when he turned from his chest of drawers and found her under the door jam.

“You gave me a fright, you didn’t have to come up here, I was gonna bring them down to you,” he held the clothes out to her.

The snick of her shirt coming off was the only sound besides Harry’s breathing until her jeans and panties hit the hardwood with a wet thud. The Who t shirt and joggers fell from his hand when he reached out to catch her in her head long rush. The rain on her lips obscured his flavor at first, but soon she could taste the spearmint and coffee she associated with his breath. Laurel pushed him back to the bed and he fell when his knees made contact. She followed him down and her hair formed a curtain.

“Touch me, I’m so cold,” she didn’t recognize her own voice over the choked sob it came out on. Harry obeyed for a few moments, smoothing his large palms over her chilled goose flesh. The world inverted and she found herself beneath him as he pulled the blanket across them. All she could focus on was him above her and the warmth she’d missed since she heard the words ‘two months’ in the cold green room while sitting on the rigid brown chair.

Harry pulled back from her and she was reminded she preferred celery green to the dull moss. Laurel leaned up to kiss him but Harry pulled back from her.

“Are you crying?” His thumb caught the tears she was unaware were still tracking down her cheeks.

“Am I?” Laurel tried to roll away to hide her face.

“Laurel, baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Willy?” He swallowed her boyfriend’s name like it tasted bad.

Her boyfriend, fuck she had to go. She didn’t want to be this person. Laurel was someone people leaned on, not this.

She scrambled up and tried to pull her clothes over her nakedness.

“Stop, Stop, Laurel your clothes are wet, take mine. What’s wrong? Please talk to me,” he begged as she grabbed the t shirt from him and carried the joggers to the door.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated, to him and herself as she pulled his pants on at the foot of the stairs.

Laurel was almost the the door when he caught he about the waist and pulled her close.

“Baby, please talk to me, what happened, what is going on? Let me help,” he turned her round and used his thumb to raise her chin.

She looked at him through her tears. Laurel broke from his embrace and pulled open the door. She looked over her shoulder,“ You can’t Harry, I have to save myself.”

AN- thanks again @team-styles for the banner and @the-well-rested-one , @aboutalighthouse, and @tipsyandtalking for listening to me blather on. Also, this story has had an awesome response, thank you for reading and responding! Reblogs are love

[wordsablaze]

#2: Four Years Before - Dan

Match of Magic What if destiny chose soulmates through literal aesthetic matches? What if education fused with impossibility and reality faded away? Dan and Phil must unite, work together and help each other live the best of all the worlds they can…

(Dan POV)

“Daniel, you can’t colour the entire page black.” Miss Denverg says sweetly, shaking her head.

“Why not?” I ask, glancing at my page. She bits her lip and shakes her head, “No, I simply mean that’s not the aim of this art lesson.” She replies carefully.

I sigh internally, wondering why teachers assume that we’ll gain in interest in art as we climb primary school because no, of course we won’t. I simply shrug so she has no choice but to move along and ‘help’ someone else. Smirking at Rachael, I carry on colouring it black anyway. She rolls her eyes, “Boys.”

“Girls.” Fred retorts, holding his colourful sketch in the air.

Rachael smiles sheepishly and throws us an apologetic look, “You guys aren’t exactly the best example; you’re on opposite ends of a spectrum.”

“Yeah, well, would you rather we wrote out the components of a computer?” I raise an eyebrow, referring to the pair at the end who repeatedly write instruction booklets as if their life depends upon it.

Flora giggles, “I might actually miss you when we get into different schools.”

“Why are you so sure we won’t be in the same one?” Scott asks, absently blending colours together.

“Because I’m going to the girls’ school, duh.” Flora explains, doodling a 'Super S’ in the corner of her picture.

Rachael groans, “Hopefully. We have the entrance exams soon.”

“Oh, don’t mention them!” Scott complains. I whack my head on the table, staying like that until Fred prods me with a ruler, “Dan?”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” I mutter, “Unlike your ruler.” I chuckle, watching Flora accidentally get a massive red streak along the measuring tool. He groans and lightly hits her with it, laughing at the now purple segment.

By the time we finish the obviously stupid 'welcome back to another year of reassurance fails and unnecessary tension’ art lesson, my entire page is black, Flora’s looks like superman barf, Fred’s is so bright it hurts to look at, Scott’s is plain and mundane and Rachael’s is actually a miniature masterpiece. Oh, and the pair on the end have replicated yet another mechanics compilation.

We all get on the bus together, not making much of a racket because we’ve only recently been trusted with bus passes. I get off fairly soon, lamely waving goodbye before unlocking the door and dumping my bag inside immediately, then heading to my room to conquer a new high score on the PlayStation. Having virtually no homework, I procrastinate as long as I can before I have to head downstairs.

I walk into the kitchen, grabbing an orange from the bowl, a small one that shouldn’t be allowed to exist alongside normal oranges. I open my mouth to ask Florence what time it is she’ll come back but she glares at me and points to the door. I shrug nonchalantly and curse under my breath.

“Shut up!” My sister yells, shoving past me angrily.

I frown, “What did I do?”

My mum smiles as she rushes in, “You did nothing, my dear, she’s just having a day.”

“Okay.” I nod, shaking my head. Florence is always like that on holiday; she’s a nightmare. I end up sulking back to my room, where Liz and Ellie smile at me.

“What’s wrong?” Eliza asked, before they can.

I shake my head, “Nothing.” I relent as Liz gives me a stern look, “Florence.”

“Aww, come here, gangster.” Eliza smiles, suddenly initiating a sibling hug.

Liz ruffles my hair simply because, at ten years old, I can’t complain. She doesn’t do it cruelly like Florence, but gently, kindly. I smile and silently thanks them for the reminder that my existence matters to someone as they grin down at me, not because they’re metaphorically looking down on me but because I haven’t had my growth spurt yet. It means I get to be the main protagonist every time they re-enact the hobbit, which happens to be a lot.

“So, you’re still not going to let me dye it red?” Liz pouts.

“No.” I shake my head, batting her arm away, “I’m staying oceanic forever!”

“Alright, okay, calm down!” Ellie smiles, sharing a look with Liz, who turns to me,

“Don’t you ever let anyone change your opinion, hear me?”

“I hear you.” I roll my eyes, folding my arms in front of my new t-shirt.

“And don’t worry about being different to the rest of us. You’ll find your matching half.” Eliza assures me, letting go of my shoulders.

I smile and poke her head jokingly, “I’ve got less to worry about than you.”

“There’s the Dan we know and love!” Liz laughs.

“Love?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

“Love, love, love!” they chant, all three of them giggling as we spin round until we’re dizzy.

Once we’ve stopped, Liz clears her throat, “Daniel, you remember to ignore Florence. She’s just touchy because you’re not what she expected. We love you, and so does your match, don’t you forget that.”

I nod as enthusiastically as I can, which probably doesn’t look like much, catching the serious undertone despite my dizziness.

Ellie grins, “See y'all later, I’ve got a train to catch!”

“Have fun with Garcia!” Liz grins.

“Don’t rush it!” Eliza adds protectively.

“Don’t forget to come back.” I grin and she kisses my forehead, promising me she could never forget my chocolate eyes and ocean hair. I smile up at her, Liz, Eliza and I heading back inside after we see her off.

“She’s lucky.” Liz smiles, “Finding her match at fourteen. I’ll never forget that they found each other by getting a detention.”

“At least that meant Mum didn’t care about her detention!” Eliza exclaims and we all wince, remembering when she got a detention for stabbing someone with a knitting needle. She didn’t quite stab them and it was technically an accident but either way, they’d made a rude comment about her knitting and she’d whacked them with the needles, somehow drawing blood. The boy still avoids all of us, turning round every time he sees us. Despite feeling slightly bad, I can’t help but find it hilarious.

Ellie got off the luckiest. Liz, at fifteen, hasn’t come across hers yet and Eliza, at seventeen, hasn’t met hers in person yet, only online.

I wonder how I’ll meet mine, if ever.

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