#blurb: morgan

[beelmons]

Luxury poker nights (18+)

cw: sex-servant kink, voyeurism, reader gets passed around basically, rossi is there but doesn't engage, hotch x morgan x spencer x reader, reader is an implied escort/prostitute, fem!reader

A/N: i won't apologize for being a slut. PT 2 has be released here!

“I’ll draw three— fuck.” Spencer muttered under his breath as he reached for the cards that Rossi was dealing to him. 

Your mouth was tightly wrapped around his cock underneath the poker table, your head bobbing up and down, body bare to your toes as you kneeled on a pad that the guys had given you for that exact purpose. Your tongue running against his shaft was driving him insane, unable to fully focus on the game he was playing. You figured, even if you knew nothing about these men, that this was the only way they could get to beat him.  

“Told you poker nights at Rossi’s were the best, kid.” Morgan said from across the wooden surface as he took a sip off his beer “He’s always got surprises like this ready for us.” 

The muscular man shot a charming smile and a wink towards the eldest, who replied with a chuckle of his own. “I like to have my boys treated nicely. Only the best.” he added.

“She sure is.” Aaron said with warmth in his voice. 

He tilted his head to observe you servicing his subordinate so diligently. Spencer was sitting on his right, Morgan his left, and Dave right in front, so he had full access to the rest of your body while you were focused on Reid. He shuffled a little to have his chair closer to where you were before he reached for your free hand, then leaned enough to be able to place a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Lend me this, will you?” he cooed while he guided it to his already exposed member. 

You let out a hum in agreement, your fingers carefully wrapping around the slippery dick; you had tended to him before moving to Spencer, so he was already fully hard, coated with saliva, and almost ready to burst. Your hand mimicked the movements of your head, stroking up and down in moderate motions. 

“So, what do we think of the new section chief?” Aaron asked. 

“Seems to have a solid career trajectory.” Rossi added. 

“As long as he doesn’t begin to micromanage us, I don’t care if he’s a monkey on a monocycle.” Derek contributed as well. 

Eyes landed on Reid when he lacked an opinion, only to find out he had his lips parted, his hands on the back of your head as he looked at you devouring his cock, and his pants had grown into a messy pattern. Shortly after, his hands pressed you down and he let his seed spill into your mouth. As you had been paid to do so, you swallowed. 

Spencer took a couple of breaths to steady his high, you having moved away from him to have your lips latched onto Hotch’s tip once again. “He seems reliable. But what’s up with the weird interactions with JJ?” his eyes narrowed as he asked. 

“Don’t you worry about that, Reid.” Aaron answered, his hand landing on your head in a similar fashion the young doctor had, making sure you kept your pace as they spoke. 

“Well, are we here to play poker? or to talk shop?” Morgan interrupted the conversation. “All in.” 

“You seem very confident, Morgan.” Spencer teased, eyeing his own cards.

“Oh, does your brain finally work, pretty boy? It sure looked like my girl here had the wires disconnected for a while.” he joked back, referring to the way you had sucked the intelligence out of him. 

“Full house. Jacks over sixes.” Spencer said, opening his cards for them to see. 

Aaron and Dave threw theirs on the table, not even daring to show them. Reid’s eyebrows raised daringly, confident enough that he had an unbeatable hand. Morgan, however, did not yield, and he threw his cards on the surface to show his hand. 

“Poker of Jacks.” he clarified, pointing at the four identical symbols on the square pieces of carton. Spencer let out a small curse and Derek made a happy little dance. “Why don’t you come over here, mama? You wanna be where the winner’s at.” he said, tilting his head to look in your direction. 

Aaron shot him a look at the fact that he was depriving him of your velvet tongue. You had long learned that ‘all in’ included everything, and that also meant you. Hotch was gentle enough to offer a hand and help you up, his cock still dangling from his pants as he stood up. Once both of you were on your feet, he pulled you closer, his hands landing to massage your ass. “Give me a quick kiss before you go.” he said half jokingly, and you obliged. His hands squeezing your skin as your lips passionately moved on his. 

You rounded the boss’s chair so you could be on Morgan’s side, awaiting your instructions, and he gently tugged you by your waist to guide you to his lap. His dick as was already out, simply laying half-hard against his pants. It usually went like that, all of them with their cocks ready to be attended when they wanted, for as long as the night lasted. 

Derek took it into his hand and perked it up, indicating for you to sit on his lap. Before you lowered yourself, though, he aligned his member with your entrance, and you let out a small wince of pleasure at his size. You held onto the table for support, and you were ready to start moving before an arm on your thigh stopped you. 

“No, no, sweetheart, you have done enough. We’re changing roles for now, let me treat you well while you play some poker.” the man huskied behind you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, but you heard the chair move, and felt your body pulled slightly back to have you leaning on the table, your forearms resting right by the edge to help you up. Morgan’s hips immediately began to thrust at their own rhythm, rather slow, although at times faster. 

You were panting a little as he fucked you from behind. The cards were dealt, and you got a decent hand. You exchanged two cards, Spencer changed one, Dave two, and Aaron three. All while they barely paid attention to the man fucking you in the middle of the room. 

“All in.” Aaron said, and everyone’s eyebrows raised, they all know what that meant. 

“Well, baby, if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beat his hand.” Derek pointed out, his hips still moving into you, the apparent apathy of everyone else just adding to your arousal. You looked at your hand, full house, threes over twos, not very high, but still probable enough that you could take the bag, and hopefully continue getting filled by the man behind you. Although, if you were honest, either outcome was okay. Servicing such handsome, and well mannered men was always a pleasure. 

“F-Full house. Threes over t-twos.” you panted out, opening your cards for everyone to see. Dave, almost immediately, folded on the table.  

“Close.” Spencer said “As you probably are, too.” he teased with a mischievous smile as he showed his cards “Full house. Sixes over twos.” 

“Nice try.” Aaron said when Spencer tried to reach for the pool “Straight flush.” he proudly showed his hand. 

“Next round, maybe, pumpkin.” Morgan said before he smacked your ass, hard enough to excite you, not enough to be overly painful. 

He pulled out of you and directed you to Hotch by your hips, immediately taking his seat back without putting away his cock. 

“Why don’t you grab some water and take a break, honey?” Aaron said as soon as you stood next to him “I have the feeling we’ll be here all night.” 

[eideticallys]

The Dangers of Tennis Skirts

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you know, reid,” you said, “guys ask girls out on a date before they bury their faces into their thighs.”

genre: fluff

word count: 817

author's notes: this is my first ever blurb! i wrote this to practice writing blurbs & writing this was so fun. also, i hope anon doesn’t mind that i wrote this with a fem!reader in mind & reader noticing spencer getting flustered. i just think it would be a lot funnier that way. thank you for this cute request, anon! i got to practice writing blurbs and it's about shy!spencer? a win for me! i hope you'll love this ♡ also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

“REID, YOU OKAY?” Morgan asked the younger male.

Despite his blatant intelligence and many talents, Spencer Reid is just a man. And just like any hot-blooded guy out there who is interested in exploring the curves and dips of a woman’s body, Spencer can’t help but have his IQ slashed down to sixty, or whatever it was Emily said before. And unfortunately for him, hiding the effect of seeing you in a short, white tennis skirt for the first time is not one of Spencer’s talents.

“Yep,” Spencer said, popping the p as he tried to stop his ogling—cue the word, stop—but failed magnanimously, eyes wide, pulse racing, and mouth gaping. 

Morgan frowned at the doctor's weird behavior. Usually, when asked how he is, Spencer would go on tangents that would be relevant to the conversation at hand. A single Yep! would not suffice for the boy genius.

Something is going on with him, Morgan thought. 

Worried but still weirded out by Spencer, Morgan followed his line of sight and guffawed at what he found. You just entered the bullpen in a fluffy beige sweater, a white tennis skirt, and with your hair tied with a white ribbon. 

"Oh, pretty boy," Morgan exclaimed between chuckles. "You are hopeless!" 

"Who's hopeless?" Garcia, who just sat on one of the chairs available, interjected. 

Morgan continued chuckling and motioned to Spencer, whose eyes were about to fall out of their sockets, and then pointed at you just entering the area. Garcia gasped in happiness. She always thought you and boy genius would make the perfect couple. 

And like Spencer, Garcia has many talents. One of which is playing Cupid.

Making the most out of Spencer’s inattentiveness—busy staring at you—Garcia made quick work of calling you over to talk about your cute outfit.

“Hey, Y/N!” Garcia blurted out. “I love LOVE your outfit. We all do.”

She made sure to gesture at Morgan and definitely at Spencer. “Right, boy genius?”

This interrupted Spencer in reverie and unfortunately for him, he’s not the most subtle when he’s back from being lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Reid?” You asked, none the wiser at the obvious display of Spencer getting distracted by your outfit, specifically, your skirt.

Spencer’s eyes widened at your concern. Frightened you’d find out the reason he was dazed was because of you, he instantly stood up from his seat, failing to notice that an electric cord was stuck beneath the chair. And with his quick scrambling, coupled with the fact that his reflexes are akin to that of a toddler just learning to walk, Spencer ended up falling face-first into the floor.

At his clumsiness, Morgan snickered loudly, earning him a slap from Garcia with a matching, “You are not helping at all!” And a glare from you to which he raised his arms in defeat. You held your palm out for Spencer to reach, who was busy trying to dust off his pants, not noticing it was you helping him up until he looked up. 

Aside from talents, Spencer was blessed with the gift of hard luck. And unfortunately for him, it seemed his hard luck always tripled in front of a pretty girl—you. Because instead of looking into your eyes when he looked up, his eyes landed on the plush softness of your thighs, which you haven’t failed to notice.

Spencer never wanted to dig a hole and jump in it so badly before today.

You were already giggling, cheeks reddening at the thought of your effect on the genius. Imagine reducing a cute guy with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to a clumsy mess on the floor. Quite flattering, especially if he happened to be the guy you have been crushing on for quite some time now. Not that he knew that, of course. But a girl has gotta take her chances, right? And what better way to tease the hell out of your crush than when he was face-first into your thighs?

“You know, Reid,” You said coolly, “Guys ask girls out on a date before they bury their faces into their thighs.”

Spencer’s eyes bulged out even more while Morgan was belly laughing at this point, Garcia right behind him, giggling in delight. 

“I-I uh,” Spencer began to ramble, trying to come up with a tangent that could get him out of this mess, failing to remember that just like him, you were gifted with many talents as well. And that is making the most out of an unfortunate—not unfortunate, your crush is face first on your thighs!—situation.

“Sorry, Spence,” You chortled, ruffling his hair. “You’re not getting out of this one. We are going out after this case.”

This got Morgan falling out of his chair in laughter, Garcia giggling along, and Spencer’s pinkened cheeks resembling an actual tomato with their redness.

[daydreamingqueen1]

Sweets thief

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings/Content: none. pure fluff, a wee bit of bullying to spence (totally harmless and friendly though), crushes, unhealthy amount of candy ingestion lol, no y/n, gn!reader too

Summary: You've been stealing sweets from your resident genius.

Word count: 1.2k

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It wasn't unusual for the BAU members to carry snacks with them.

The job was hard, stressful and, most importantly, it had unpredictable hours. So finding time to eat a proper meal wasn't always a viable option.

Nevertheless, eating is a basic human need and even if it's not completely healthy, the agents often found themselves battling their hunger with quick snacks.

As a relatively new member of the BAU, buying said vital snacks wasn't yet ingrained in your mind, resulting in you continually forgetting to buy something to munch on during cases.

Stealing was always an option though.

After several months with your coworkers, you are proud to say that you have managed to eat at the expense of all of their pockets, for experts in human behavior, they don't hide their treats so well.

However, after several months, you have come to know their go-to snacks and, subsequently, you have become picky.

Morgan eats some kind of high-protein bars with an awfully bright neon wrapper.

Emily loves those salt and vinegar chips every station has on their vending machines.

JJ, ever the healthy mom of the group, always has a few packages of oatmeal raisin cookies on hand.

Rossi carries eucalyptus and mint gummies like the old man he is.

And Hotch buys the most bland granola bars known to mankind.

With all of that said, the conclusion was obvious.

Spencer has the best snacks.

It is not only that he always has sweets but that he's the only one that manages for variety instead of a fixed thing. A bit ironic considering he is the most prone to sticking to a rigid routine. Well, you aren't complaining though, especially not this month.

You realized quickly that Halloween was a big thing for the resident genius, seeming to make the grown man regress to the mentality of an overly eager seven-year-old. It's lucky for you because that means that he chooses to try a new candy every single day of October.

It also means that you had begun stealing exclusively from him and, being surrounded by profilers, it wasn't long until you were discovered as the culprit.

A shadow had eclipsed your desk suddenly, making you look up to a squinting Dr. Reid. “Did you take my last Peanut Butter Cup?”

You shook your head, “No...”

Derek snorted on the desk nearby, “You've still got chocolate on your face, kid,”

Cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, you smiled up at Spencer sweetly.

His converse sounded hard against the floor as he stumped away.

Apparently, you weren't that discreet. He ended up catching you many more times after that.

"Hey!" Spencer swatted your hand when you grabbed yet another handful of his M&Ms.

You shrugged, feigning innocence, “Hey to you too Reid, but we've been in the same room for a while.”

He huffed, inching the box slightly out of your reach.

Many more times.

Your hand was literally inside the familiar size bag of Starburst candy when Spencer came back from the bathroom.

“Oh come on!” he groaned, taking the bag out of your grasp, “Buy your own.”

You went back to the local police station office, giggling to yourself like a child with your hands full of candy.

At this point hunger had become a secondary motive to your stealing. The number one reason being how adorable Spencer's reactions were when he caught you.

In all honesty, you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. You didn't have the courage to tell him upfront, making your silly brain manifest your feelings like a preschooler pulling on the pigtails of their crush. Oh, but teasing him was so fun, and it got you free candy so it was even better.

Then, yesterday, there was an incident.

The team was on the jet, another kidnapped girl had been safely returned to her parents, fairly quickly this time too. Spirits were high at wrapping up a case with such a positive outcome, making most of the agents mingle and play games on the usually quiet ride home.

You were perched on one of the individual seats, scrolling away in your phone and absentmindedly eating some candy (you had bought your own for once).

You jolted a bit when a hand dived into your candy bag. When you looked up, you found a smirking Spencer standing right in front of you, looking fairly smug and popping a piece into his mouth. He thought he was finally getting back at you for eating all of his sweets.

His joy lasted for about three seconds before he realized his mistake.

See, to the untrained eye, he had just eaten a couple of innocent looking bear gummies. Except, these were not regular gummies, they were your favorite kind, the most sour kind.

Spencer's face scrunched up with disgust, the sour effect of the gummy doubled at taking him by surprise, the acidic taste completely taking over his taste buds.

You couldn't help it, you bent over your belly with laughter, inadvertently drawing attention to Spencer's predicament.

The whole team snickered as they watched him rush back and forth on the narrow hall of the jet until he got hold of a tissue to spit the offending candy.

“What the hell is that?” he turned around to confront you.

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Sour candy?”

More laughs filled the space and Spencer had sat down on the furthest chair from yours, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Back to today, you feel actually kind of guilty about what happened. You have been munching on all of Spencer's treats for weeks and the one time he does it to you, the whole team ends up making fun of him. A bit of teasing was fine but you don't want the man to actually feel bad.

So when you see him stand up from his desk and walk into the kitchen, you quickly jump out of your chair and grab something from your bag, trailing right behind him through the bullpen.

He's making himself an exaggeratedly sweet cup of coffee when you corner him.

“Spencer,” you call, making him turn around. Your hands are inconspicuously behind your back, “Trick or treat?”

His eyebrows furrow suspiciously, “Neither if you're going to give me one of those monstrosities you like.”

You huff out a laugh, “No, no, I promise it's not that. Come on, trick or treat? ”

After measuring up how much he trusts your statement, he relents, “Treat.”

“Ta-dah!” you sing, revealing a single Hershey’s Kiss in your palm.

Spencer's eyes light up.

“I know it doesn't make up for everything I ate but it's an offer of peace.”

He gives you a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

As his hand extends to grab the chocolate, your brain has an impulsive thought.

You lean forward and peck his lips.

It lasts barely a second but it's enough to make your heart beat wildly against your chest.

Spencer stares at you frozen in place, a crimson color spreading all over his face.

“A kiss for a kiss,” you mumble dumbly, like saying that makes it better somehow.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You think to yourself, your feet are prepared to flee the scene when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist.

“I– I...” he stammers, his cheeks turning impossibly redder, “I wouldn't mind if you stole more of those.”

A shy smile spreads on your face. Perhaps you won't start buying your own snacks soon.

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it's a bit silly but I was feeling halloween-y and craving sour candy

leave me a prompt or idea you'd like me to write!

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

[ddejavvu]

can i request a derek fic where readers also in BAU and they’re married and everytime someone says “morgan” both her and derek turn around or show up and the teams figuring out how to differentiate the morgan’s and dereks just all smug like “yeah she’s MY wife”

i love you’re writing btw!!!🩷

"Morgan?" Penelope calls from the kitchen, "You're scheduled for a retake of your ID photo today at 12!"

The responses she gets are a, 'What?' from you, and a, 'What'd you say?' from your husband. You blink bewilderedly at him, and relish the way that his grin lights up the room between you, like a sunbeam shot into your chest.

"Oh, not you," Penelope huffs, peering over the open door of the fridge to glance between you two, "I meant the pretty one!"

"That doesn't narrow it down, babygirl," Derek raises an amused brow at her, drumming his pen on the wood surface of his desk, "You talking to me or my wife?"

"Your wife!" Penelope all but snaps, "Derek, your ego is so inflated."

"It's your fault," You tease Penelope, who withdraws from the fridge with a can of soda and a slightly guilty expression on her face, "I seem to remember you answering just about a thousand of his phone calls with, 'Ahoy there, sexy'."

"Stop," She pleads regretfully, cracking the tab on her soda can with more force than she needs to, "Don't- stop! I didn't know you two were- were hitched! -were canoodling! I never would have talked about his abs if I'd known he was taken."

"It's okay," You promise her, and you really mean it, because you know for all of their sex-crazed banter, they're friends to the highest degree, and Derek is faithful to you. "Penelope, if it weren't for you, he wouldn't know how to paint nails."

"It's true," Derek nods, grabbing your hand to showcase the baby blue color he'd applied for you just yesterday, "You're my personal trainer, P.G."

She surrenders with a sigh, and you're glad that she seems to not harbor any real guilt, because you'd hate for her to be burdened with it. She leans in to peer at your hand Derek has on display, and when she looks closely at your ring finger, her nose scrunches in a grimace.

"You got it on her cuticles, Derek," She chides, disapproval apparent in her tone that makes your chest shake in a gleeful laugh, "Have I taught you nothing?"

[johnpriceslamb]

I feel like having a hyper fem!reader would be really useful when it comes to cons and scams. Charm = Money

The image of going to any town and just absolutely leaving peoples pockets dry just by being a pretty doll they think they can play with when in truth you’re the one playing them. Arthur Morgan in the corner making sure nothing goes south yet getting a bit jealous of the men getting robbed.

caution !! mini babble , hyper-fem reader as usual -.- arthur being a bit jealous is a bit of an understatement ;3 , > 100 wordiez

⊹₊ ⋆ you were pretty .

too pretty, in fact— it makes Arthur’s blood boil .

How could Dutch ever think that this was a good idea to scheme money ? Sure, it was working — and sure, this was the most money they’ve gotten in a day, but … the way you looked at those bastards was similar to the way you look at him is making a vein pop in his head.

Long, dewy lashes tipped with puppy-like eyes — hot damn you were too pretty, it’s making his irritation very evident. He narrows his eyes at the way you presented yourself to those pigs, a soft click to the tongue which quietly drowns out immediately because of the constant chattering amongst the bar. He has to force himself to look away, otherwise he’ll end up dragging a man by the ear for even looking your way. Damnit he’s looking your way again and-

Ah. There she was. pixie-like hands ever so sneakily coming from behind and dragging that delicious looking wallet out of the man’s pockets and into hers. Though you looked innocent with all those laces ‘n bows, you were a bit too sneaky for his liking sometimes. Reason being is the amount of shirts borrowed (stolen) off of him and into your hand.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea but still.

“— I really must be going.. ‘m afraid the bow in my hair is about to fall ! Give me a minute to adjust this silly thing now, will you ?” Feigning panic of a girl wanting to keep their appearance pristine and delicate, your attempts are futile as the man whom you’ve pickpocketed unconsciously grabs your hand from behind at a painful grip, “But sugar, your hair looks fine—”

You shoot Arthur the look.

You dont dare mention to the man in front of you the way Arthur is striding towards him at a quick pace with his hand curled into a tight fist.

[lust444men]

sub!spencer, overstim, crossword puzzle, slight dumbification. teasing??? slight degrading??? idk. un-protected p n v, (don't do this!!) . that's it?˚

·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:·.·:*¨ ¨*:.

"okay.. okay. how about this one, spence? 'Common malapropism used to mean 'nonetheless'." You ask reid, your crossword puzzle on his chest, the paper laid flatly as your pen taps it. you roll your hips against reid, making him whine.

"i-..I dont know!" he says, voice filled with desperation.

"hm..no that's not it. 12 letters." you reply, your pen scribbling on the paper.

Reid let's out a soft cry, his hands gripping at your hip. "please- I cant- wanna cum. please?" He babbles, looking at you with the biggest puppy eyes he can spare. you laugh gently.

"No, not yet baby. cmon, last one. 'Common malapropism used to mean 'nonetheless'." You repeat, as you begin to slowly bounce up and down on spencers already overstimulated cock. he grips harder at your hips- if that's possible.

"I c-cant! it's too- much.." he whimpers.

"Here I thought you were some kind of genius, Spencer..." You tut. "think." you say, making his mind cloud over, trying his hardest to think, so he can finally cum.

"i-irregardless?" He mumbles, and you check over the crossword, gasping gently as you write it down.

"Yes! irregardless. Good boy Spence." you say, disregarding the crossword and speeding up your movements, drawing a loud whine from spencer.

"I knew you could do it, baby."

[astrophileous]

Derek giggling when Bug starts to waddle due to pregnancy 🤭 she doesn’t find it funny or endearing at all but he literally cannot stop watching her. He tells the team about it too and they just.. kinda smile and nod because they’re just happy that he is.

Somewhat a continuation of this other Love Bugs blurb. Thanks for the request love! (and apologies for the delay because I've been very focused on The Countdown lately)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer stretched his back at the mysterious and unfamiliar sound. Next to him, JJ's eyes squinted in concentration.

"You hear that, too?" JJ mumured as she studied her surroundings, trying to pinpoint where exactly the sound was originating from.

Spencer nodded in confusion. "Who the hell—"

The question died in his throat when his eyes finally landed on the figure sitting across the room.

"No way." Spencer's elbow jabbed JJ's side, snatching her attention. "It's Morgan."

"Morgan? Derek Morgan?" JJ craned her neck to see around the partitions that blocked her direct line of sight. "What is he—don't tell me. Is he... is he giggling?"

As if confirming the ridiculous notion, Derek proceeded to cover his mouth and broke into, not laughter and not even a chuckle, but a series of giggles that made his broad shoulders shook. JJ and Spencer exchanged an incredulous look before they meandered sneakily towards him.

"Someone's happy," JJ quipped as she leaned back against the conference table, right next to where Derek was sitting.

The man in question looked up at the sudden interruption.

"What are you even watching in there?" Spencer asked curiously, trying to take a peek at the screen of Derek's phone that the latter man had been grinning at for the past few minutes.

Instead of tilting his phone away, Derek unexpectedly faced the screen towards his two coworkers instead, giving them an unobstructed view of what appeared to be a video of you.

"Penelope sent it to me." Derek grinned before pressing replay. "She waddles."

The video started playing then, showing a footage of you walking like a penguin as you struggled to carry the various snacks inside your arms. You looked up to the camera at the sound of Penelope's laughter, your face twisting into a pout when you noticed that it was pointed towards you.

"Peennn," you whined childishly. "Are you filming for him again?"

"He said he wants to see one where you waddle, Beets."

The scowl you were wearing was clearly visible through the screen. "Tell him to stop. It's not cute."

"I don't know." Penelope hummed. "It's pretty damn adorable from where I'm sitting."

The video ceased to black after that, and Derek retracted the device without ever wiping the smile off his face.

"You've been watching this for the past ten minutes?" Spencer questioned.

"Yeah."

The younger man looked as if he had something else to say, but he never got the chance to, as Derek was quick to immerse himself back in the video and watching it so earnestly as if it was the greatest movie in the history of mankind. Spencer and JJ shared a look before making themselves scarce. It was definitely weird seeing Derek act this way, but they didn't mind it one bit if it implied Derek's unadulterated happiness and your guaranteed safety.

For the rest of their stay in Louisville, Kentucky, the BAU became witness to Derek's blooming glee as it incessantly doubled in size with every video Penelope sent his way. More often than not, he'd let the team watch the videos as well. After all, they had also been missing your presence in their midst since you began your maternity leave, and every single one of them couldn't wait to finally welcome your baby boy into the world when the time finally came.

Derek was buzzing with excitement the moment they boarded the jet, impatiently counting down the minutes until he would see you again as the jet started its ascend. An hour before they were supposed to land, his phone began to ring in his pocket, flashing with the affectionate contact name that he had assigned for the team's tech analyst.

"Yeah, babygirl? What?" The sudden raising of his voice caught the attention of everyone on the jet. They watched from their respective seat as Derek sat up straight, running a frantic hand over his face. "Okay. Yeah? And how is she? That's good. Alright, thanks for calling. Keep me posted."

The call ended after that, and Derek, uncharacteristically, proceeded to sit in silence for the following minute as if he had been frozen in time.

"Everything okay?" Rossi asked, voicing the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"That was Penelope. It's (Y/N)." The atmosphere shifted. "She's going into labor."

[fxllfaiiry]

─ hits different 'cause it's you

★ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

★ summary: spencer reid is used to being called pretty boy by everyone ─ everyone but you.

★ warnings: fluff, spencer and the reader acting like lovesick teens, co-workers to lovers, the team teasing spencer.

★ notes: I had this saved in my drafts for a long time and finally thought why not post it?? please don't mind any errors, english is not my first language.

Spencer Reid likes a lot of things. He likes books, he likes jello, but most importantly, he likes you. He could talk about you for hours, in fact, if he was given the chance to, he would. Spencer was mesmerized by everything you did, he was hopelessly, utterly, in love with you.

“Pretty boy, what are you dreaming about?” Derek’s voice jolted him out of his bubble, he looked around embarrassed remembering he was in fact surrounded by his co-workers. Everyone in the jet turned to look at him, everyone including you. Sitting next to you was making him nervous.

“Um, nothing. I was just thinking about, stuff?” He somehow magically managed to stutter out a full sentence under your gaze, god he felt pathetic.

“Reid, are you asking us or telling us?” Hotch asked looking amused.

Spencer could feel your gaze set on him, he really hoped you couldn't see how red his cheeks are. “I - I’m telling you, yeah.” How was the smartest person in the room suddenly, the dumbest?

“Come on, give pretty boy a break,” Rossi smiled. Rossi had a sixth sense when it comes to these things, he knew about Spencer’s feelings from day one, it was obvious to almost everyone, but of course not to you.

You were equally in love with him, but you would never tell Spencer that, you couldn't bare the rejection. If only you knew how smitten he was with you. You stared at his face, marvelling at how pretty he looked, oh how you would kill for those lips to be on yours.

“Was pretty boy dreaming about a pretty girl?” Emily teased. What? No. Picturing Spence with other girls made you want to throw up. If you were paying more attention rather than drowning in jealousy, you’d have noticed Spencer’s eyes darting towards you.

“Come on pretty boy, tell us who the girl is.” Curiosity was killing you, who was the lucky lady that caught Spencer Reid’s eye?

Spencer froze, you called him pretty boy? He isn't used to that at all, you usually call him Spence or boy genius, but never pretty boy. ‘Please call me that again,’ he thought to himself.

“You think I’m pretty?” The question slipped past his lips before he could stop himself. That was everyone’s queue to stop listening, they all rushed back into their conversations wanting to give you guys some privacy.

“What? Of course, I think you’re pretty, Spence.” Where did this come from all of a sudden? You thought he was the prettiest boy, you would tell him that every day if you had to.

“I mean - It’s just you never call me that…” He tried to hide his nervous state by letting out a chuckle. He almost felt sad, why didn't you call him pretty boy? He wants to be your pretty boy desperately.

You on the other hand had no idea why you didn't call him that. Note: call Spencer Reid pretty boy more often.

“Well, I’m sorry, I’ll call you pretty boy more often if you want?” Where did that sudden wave of confidence come from?

“Oh, I would like that,” Spencer mumbled. He tried to keep the smile off his face but it was useless. This feeling was better than reading with his cardigan on, on a cosy rainy day.

“You’re the prettiest boy I know, Spence. My pretty boy.” The last part was so quiet Spencer would’ve missed it if he wasn't paying attention, but fortunately, he’s always paying attention to you.

“I think you’re the prettiest too.” The two of you were acting like love-sick teenagers, but what the hell, screw that.

“Would you like to go on a date with me once we get back, Spence?” You were beaming, after years of waiting, you finally got what you wanted, and the new surge of confidence certainly helped.

“I’d love that.”

bonus !

“Garcia owes me 20 bucks” Derek whispered watching the scene unfold.

[devnmon]

too sweet. || a.m.

a/n: heyy ok i know you guys have probably seen enough of the fics with hozier songs but i also love him and when i heard this track the minute it was released, i was like oh yeah this is arthur morgan core. if ur bothered by me writing this then i say that is simply your problem ngl. in the case that you are reading this, it's just a silly little blurb that sums up arthur morgan in the eyes of the song too sweet by hozier !

wc: 632 | warnings: mentions of smut (that's all)

Arthur Morgan was never an early bird. In fact he despised it. Most times he did was only during a hunt, when he woke smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze. You– you were different; completely rising before the sun rose like clockwork. While you always told him never to stay up till the sunrise, he did, arrogantly, anyways.

He was amazed at how you were so easily able to exist in a world that fought against you– not only in the gang, but as a woman. Drunk on life you seemed to be, Arthur would say, while he took his whiskey neat. In his bed at 3am many nights, he took pride in getting to lay next to you when the slower moments came to pass.

You kissed him in the early mornings when you rose, lips still tasting of the previous night's wine. The sweet morning greeting of your lips had him praying for you to lay with him longer. Arthur was lovesick and kept you wherever he went; whether that meant drawings of your from across camp, or your name written with a heart next to his on a different page. On the off chance he gets back to camp early in the mornings before you wake, he leaves you the most exquisite trinkets for you to remember him by.

It's not often he must stay out of camp for longer than a couple days, but when he does, he returns with a heartfelt apology that takes place in your shared bedroll, begging you to accept his apology with every praise. Your touch has been ingrained into his mind, body. and soul, and yet– it burns his skin every time. Each press of your lips and swipe of your tongue over his skin.

He's so goddamned lucky you've let him at your body long enough to know how well his melds with yours like putty. You're the cream he voids from his coffee– because you're too sweet for him. You're too sweet with your sweet lips like heaven's gate, and Arthur is marveled at how you let him of all men kiss you.

The natural beauty you walked around with every day made Arthur seethe with envy at the fact that other men would gaze upon what was his. Most times when you clock his jealous stares and frustrated grunts, it's instinct when you immediately reassure him that you're not going anywhere.

His frustration is released among his true aim towards the spots on your body that make you mewl and call out his name like a mantra. It boosts his ego through the roof like a rocket when you respond and intertwine your soul even more with his.

When he's free from the constant back and forth from camp and jobs, there's a rare moment where Arthur dedicates two or three days to only you. He whisks you away to an expensive hotel, and uses his every power to bring you a new kind of ecstasy when he shares the bed with you. Arthur never wants you to think he doesn't have time to spend on you; he proves that any moment he can.

At that point, he'd gladly die between your thighs just to hear the wanton noises of carnal desire you feel for him and only him. He's seen so much pain in the world, that he's astonished someone like you can be beautiful and perfect so naturally.

You're the sun he wakes to every morning, the contrast of the heat during the cool rainy nights. As sweet as wine and the grapes it has been made from; he'd wait forever to taste your kiss again as long as you were there to ease the aches and pains.

Until then... he'll take his whiskey neat.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

How about Morgan discovering something inappropriate in Spencer's stuff and the team laughing because it's the reader's? 👀

send me more ideas for blurbs if you want!

“Can someone lend me a buck?” Morgan asked, walking into the desks in the bullpen, where Emily, Spencer, JJ and you were sitting. “The machine doesn't accept mine.”

“Try another day, I only bring three dollars in coins for the subway back,” you laughed, as you signed the report you had just written.

“I always fold my bills in half to fit in my wallet, sorry.”

“I'll lend you one,” muttered Spencer, who was too busy on the computer participating in a heated discussion on a blog about Carl Sagan “Look in my jacket, it's there.”

Morgan followed his friend's pointing finger and when he found the garment on the back of a chair, he searched the right pocket, but found nothing. He then searched in the left one and although he felt the leather box that housed the man's money, a piece of cloth next to it also caught his attention. Captured by curiosity, he took it and when he took it out he couldn't help but utter a surprised whistle.

“Look what we have here,” he laughed.

Spencer had no idea what it could be and turned to look at him, but when he realized what it was he rushed to snatch it from his hands and jealously keep it in his pants pocket. Unfortunately, everyone present had noticed that it was a piece of black lingerie, which obviously did not belong in the doctor's wardrobe.

“Weren't you looking for the money?” Spencer cleared his throat, under the watchful eyes of his friends.

“Well, my hands touched that before!” Morgan apologized, but without a hint of guilt in his words.

Prentiss and JJ had always believed that there was some unresolved tension between you and the man, so they looked in your direction thinking that the fact that he carried women's underwear in his pocket would negatively affect you. However, they were both surprised when they noticed that you were completely blushing and pretending to pay attention to some documents that, in fact, you had already reviewed. Both of them shared a knowing look of understanding and JJ suppressed a smile.

Spencer walked to his wallet to get the money his friend needed and handed it to him without saying anything, but clearly embarrassed by what had just happened.

The mistake that ended up giving away both of you was when, almost as if it were planned, his eyes met yours and a nervous and almost imperceptible smile crossed your face.

“I didn't think you were the type to collect those kinds of trophies, Reid,” Emily murmured, clearly trying to touch a nerve, but not intending to be rude. All she wanted was to joke a little about what had definitely been going on between you for who knows how long.

JJ, on the other hand, kept an eye on you, noticing in all your body language the embarrassment of having been caught.

“Shut up,” he snorted, but as soon as she started laughing Spencer did too and then you joined them.

“I just asked myself: who will be the lucky one?” Morgan muttered playfully “Y/N?” you froze and looked up at him, debating whether to admit guilt or lie.

"Yeah?"

“Do you want me to bring you something from the machine?” he murmured, pretending to be friendly, but from the smile on his face it was obvious that he had deduced the truth.

"No. Thank you, Derek.”

"It's no big deal. We have to be cordial with our co-workers, don't we, Reid?”

A new wave of giggles filled the atmosphere and even you, the most affected, ended up joining in the mockery.

Spencer could only think that from now on if he wanted to keep a memory of you, he would have to be more careful with where he left it.

[serawritesthings]

AS FAR AS DREAMS GO

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x fem! reader Summary | While Arthur found sanction in his dreams, you would fret about them every night. While he longed for the sweet caress of your hands, you were unknowing, fooled by his stoic facade as your dreams only brought you nightmares. Tags |  Angsty, Arthur Morgan pining for the reader, hinting at smut, intimacy, two idiots clearly in love, some sadness ensues Word Count | 10.3k A/N | Hello, lovelies! It's my second-ever fanfic; I hope you like it! Also, I got carried away, so it’s quite long (sorry)… It's loosely based on the mission with Uncle when you rob a wagon, but I have my spin on it. It’ll work more with the story this way. If you want, it can fit in with my recent fanfic about Arthur, but maybe set earlier in their “relationship.” ;D THANKS FOR READING!♡ Part two

Arthur felt you in his sleep last night. 

He remembered the caress of your fingers on his icy skin, leaving scorching traces of blazing fire in its wake as your hearts collided and molded into his deepest longing. Like a strange mirror, it portrayed you as you always were: tender and loving, fiery but forgiving. But it wasn’t you; instead, it was a thought of you. Like when walking down the street and catching a glance of a person that seemed familiar, but with another look, was someone else entirely. Only in his dream-filled sleep could he allow himself the sweet torture of your presence, for in those moments, he didn’t have to think of the consequences his thoughts would bring. His dreams of you overtook his mind, whether he was willing or not. For in his mind, you had carved a path so profound that it would be etched into his senses until his last breath, clouding his sanity, never again being able to differentiate dreams from reality.

Oh, how you held him in your embrace. It made him long for the sun to disappear under the horizon once more when the warm springs of light found him in the chilly dawn. He could still feel traces of your touch in the short period between sleep and consciousness. For a brief moment, it made him question whether it was a dream or if his deepest desire had come true. You were his.

But he would wake up and find that the warmth he held in his hands had dissipated, like hot ash falling between his fingers, making Arthur attempt to dig up what remained of you from the ground. He was left aching with no relief, cold and shuddering in the chilly morning, standing over the remains of your ghost. It was like his heart had been burned with it, only coming alive once more when you returned to him at midnight.

But for you, dreams had trouble finding you at night, if they even found you at all. You could never escape reality to find sanction in the warm blanket of imagination. When dreams did reach you, memories replaced fantasy and washed over like cold, freezing water. You would fret and worry, tossing around wishing you could melt into the sheets and float to where you could become someone else. There was a time when the dreams would bring you solace, whether it was a conjecture of old memories or what your younger self would conjure up. But that was a long time ago, and you find that the older you get, those dreams drift further away. So, you had nowhere to escape, nothing to ease the hardship that daytime brought. So, sleeping is just a blink of an eye nowadays to make the night pass faster.

After a sleepless night, you sat by a tree overlooking the vast landscape. It’s quiet between the trees this morning. It brought a sense of calm to the otherwise quite hectic place. Although chilly, the wind carried a frisk waft, clearing your head. You enjoyed these mornings and often found yourself awake before the others. It’s a habit you picked up through the years, though a younger you would complain about having to rise that early in the morning. It felt like the world was entirely your own. It is even calmer in times like this, where the residents consist mainly of women when the men are out. It brought a sense of comfort to you, for they were the ones that had been kind and welcoming to you. Unfortunately, your time alone didn’t last long, for you have learned that people rose relatively early here. But the time you did get for yourself gave you a chance to ponder the time that had passed up until now.

Sean, a peculiar man, had recently been brought back from being held captive by bounty hunters soon to be transported up the Upper Montana River to a federal prison. You had immensely worried for him, finding his presence over the last few months to lighten your sometimes rather gloomy mood with his ridiculous shenanigans. Some had been unsure if going back for him posed as a good idea, but the thought of leaving him behind saddened you and many others. Somehow, you had managed to convince Arthur to lend a hand, with considerable help from Javier You knew Arthur cared for Sean, even though he’d probably rather die before admitting it.

When you first got wrapped up with these people, you admit that Arthur scared the living daylight out of you. There was a certain air around him that exuded strength and authority, never stopping short of resorting to violence. You were no stranger to what kind of man he was, what they were; neither were you of their business, but you were apprehensive of them more often than not. The womenfolk had told you countless times that Arthur could be immensely ruthless when needed and had done things that would leave your blood running cold. And you didn’t doubt them. Behind those calculating eyes and quiet demeanor lay a long life of violence and hardship. You were sure of it.

That’s why you felt stuck when it came to him. Despite all this, he was a kind man. However, he didn’t speak much when it concerned you. More so, he worked hard, and you rarely spotted him in camp. Freezing your guts out in those mountains was the longest time you had seen his face consistently. You couldn’t do more than respect him, and although apprehensive around him, you had found yourself doing it less because of his dangerous aura and more because he made chills run down your back and a warmth spread in your stomach like wildfire when he set his eyes on you. It wasn’t a fire that spread fast, destroying everything in its path and bringing misery. Instead, a fire dispersed like slow poison, mingling with your blood as it flowed through your body, claiming you bit by bit until you surrendered to its ever-so-prolonged heat.

“I heard you begged for the boys to come get me!” Time had flown by quickly, and soon, you heard the clanking of pots and the sound of steel against the wood. Sean had suddenly spoke up as he neared you, his Irish accent lacing his words heavily. Although you had missed him and didn’t want to leave him to an insufferable fate, you hadn’t forgotten his teasing. He knew very well he was exaggerating, but he wouldn’t let go of the chance to bury you in his flamboyant personality.

“That’s quite the exaggeration, Sean.” A small smile spread on your lips. “Don’t make me regret standing in favor of your return.” A snort left the red-headed man at your words. Pursing your lips, you put your gaze on him as he stood beside your seated form with his arms crossed, gazing out onto the open landscape of Horseshoe Overlook.

“Ah, how I missed ya big words and harmless threats.” You could hear a few snickers at his statement from the people gathering around the campfire. A blush covered your cheeks. You had a reputation for sounding smart sometimes, and people did not stop at anything to tease you, especially the man in front of you.

 “Did ya miss me?” A cheeky grin grew on his punchable face as he raised his eyebrows, expectantly leaning closer to you.

A scoff left your lips, but you didn’t have time to answer him as the sound of hooves drew near. A certain dread always filled you at the sound. Even though you knew it most likely was someone returning to camp, you could never be too sure what state they would be in. You often worked alongside Ms. Grimshaw to help when someone got hurt, having extensive knowledge of tending to wounds and other bodily harm. It worried you, for the possibility of not being able to help someone would someday appear. Like that poor man, Davey. Luckily, you had managed to take care of Marston well enough. But he did look awful these days with that scar adorning his face; there was no denying that.

You and Sean looked up as the horses raced through the path among the trees that led to your whereabouts. You could see Dutch among them, with Arthur and Hosea. Scowls were apparent on their faces as their loud voices broke the solitude in the air, seeming to argue viciously about something.

“What’s that about?” You questioned the man beside you. “God knows, but I’d stay outta it if I were you.” He gave you a knowing look and slouched away to bother someone else. Your curiosity was piqued, but you let it be for now, raising to help Mary-Beth wash some foul shirts she was struggling with—damned Reverend.

The day continued, mindless chatter filling the space between you and the girls as you worked under Ms. Grimshaw’s sharp, watchful eyes. She had been in a terrible mood today, so her reign was relentless.  

“Do you think she would be mad if we threw the clothes from the cliff edge?” A grumpy Tilly spoke up, her hands relentless as she scrubbed the fabric that never seemed to get cleaner. Sadly, it only became filthier the more she worked on it. Karen laughed as she raised her eyebrows, a mocking expression on her face. “Oh no, that won’t do for great Ms. Grimshaw. She would probably throw you right along with it.” Their laughter cut through the air, contagious as you smiled at their exchange, glancing up to see if Ms. Grimshaw had her eyes on you. But instead, your eyes found a pair of blue ones staring at you when you looked up—the brief moment left you unsure where to put your gaze after the contact broke. 

You cleared your throat as you spoke quietly. “Grimshaw means well.” They groaned at you, rolling their eyes. “Sure, Miss Righteous.” They laughed again as you joined them. Before you could hinder yourself, your eyes gazed up at Arthur again, finding him staring at you again; a particular fervency lay deep within them. However, he directed his eyes away from you hastily, like you caught him doing something he shouldn’t have. Seemingly tense, the man grabs a match from his pocket, lighting its phosphorus tip from his booth’s worn leather soles. When he took a drag, he peeked at you again, his head bowed, hiding under his worn hat. 

Dutch and Hosea were in a heated discussion, with Arthur listening in languidly. It probably related to what had transpired before they returned to camp. Although more collected now, there was still a tension in the air. By your observations, they were the “three main men” around here. They had been holding together most of their lives, naturally giving them authority over the gang. When they talked, you listened. Simple as that.

You touched your face discreetly, wondering if you had gotten soot from tending the fire on your cheeks again. What else could be the reason for Arthur’s stare? How embarrassing that would be. He made you somewhat uncertain already; you couldn’t possibly handle his mocking adding to that.

“I wonder what they’re talking about?” The question you asked left the girls perking their heads up and gazing at you before following your gaze, looking at the men arguing. “Yeah, it seems pretty serious,” Mary-Beth said, curious about their exchange. They had been going at it for quite a while now as evening drew closer. You observed them with intrigue. That’s when Hosea’s eyes planted on you, beckoning you over with his finger. He looked cunning as he settled leisurely in his chair, content. You gazed questingly at the girls as they shrugged their shoulders, looking as confused as you.

Dusting off your skirt, you rose from the small barrel you used as a makeshift chair and approached the men. You gave them an unsure smile, still confused, wondering what they could want to bring you into their apparent disagreement. 

“Well, we have a perfect actress with us, gentlemen. I’m sure she could charm our seemingly formidable friends.” Hosea patted your arms as your feet shifted under you when he spoke up. What could they possibly be talking about? Dutch was gazing at you indescribably as Arthur stared at the table. His arms crossed, not meeting your gaze.

“Well, her damsel in distress act has saved us before.” A low chuckle left Dutch as he drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“May I ask what you’re talking about?” As the question left you, you could see Arthur raise his head to watch you. His expression was blank, but his eyes seemed sullen, the smoke from his cigarette filling the air as he took a drag. 

“Uncle’s received a tip of a supply wagon passing through carrying a payroll, lookin’ to be unguarded. They want you to help us.” His voice was quiet as he observed you, his accent thick. You had helped them on some jobs before, although only smaller ones since you weren’t as acquainted with the work as the others. You mainly had accompanied Hosea on his schemes, finding that both of you had quite the same proficiency in depicting a role. Although you had taken up some theatrics when you were a small child, you had never imagined you would use them to deceive people. You found Hosea to be a spiritful figure despite his age. When thinking about it, he reminded you immensely of your father. He was too stubborn to let himself grow old, and his spark for living and refusal to take on the habits of an older man made him seem immortal to you. But he wasn’t, which became evident to you the older you had gotten.

“Of course, if I can be of help.” You offered them a small smile, surprised they decided on you, not someone else. It didn’t seem scary for you; you would, of course, be accompanied. And they knew what they were doing, which had become apparent to you since they always managed to get out of trouble. Compared to some of the things they did, stealing from a wagon seemed mild. And with Arthur accompanying, you knew you would feel completely safe.

“S’not a good idea.” The words that left Arthur made you furrow your brows. What could be the reason for his doubt? Some parts of you understood that you might not be as proficient as the other women, but as you mentioned, playing the damsel in distress was right up your alley. And you already felt as if you were a burden around here.

He avoided your offended look as he continued, pointing his finger at Hosea. “I ain’t lettin’ h-anyone get hurt just cause Uncle got told a tip from some sad, half-witted lowlife! Now, I ain’t against looking up the lead, but we handle it without the theatrics an’ all, Hosea.” 

You were about to speak up, but Dutch did before you could. “It would give you the advantage to have someone stop the wagon; that way, you have the man unguarded and on the ground.” He gave you a look-over. You leaned slightly away from his calculating gaze, his squinting eyes examining you.

 “Yeah, that’ll do; let Uncle prove his worth this time. Bring Bill and Charles with ya.” With that said, he stood up from his chair and nodded at you with a beaming grin, and sauntered off. Wonder what Molly saw in him. Often, you found him to lean towards arrogancy, the way he let everyone else do his dirty work. But they all seemed to listen to him, which meant what he did gave some positive outcome. 

“Trust me, Arthur, she’ll do good. And she might make up for your dumbness.” As Hosea’s chuckling figure slowly disappeared, you gazed curiously at Arthur, who was scoffing, staring after the man. 

“I know how to handle myself, Arthur. And I know you know that too.”

“Sure.” He dragged out the word, voice mirroring his now grumpy mood.

“So?” You raised your eyebrows. He gave you a questioning look. “What’s the matter?” You asked. 

He let out a long breath. “It ain’t safe. A random tip could be risky. It probably means someone else heard ’bout it, too, if the man was willing to give up the information. Likewise, it could be a setup. We don’t know, do we?” You leaned on the table before him, placing your hand to stead his bouncing knee. You knew what he meant. But every mission was risky, especially these days when you had law coming at you from what appeared to be every direction. Despite this, you had to do it to survive, and you wanted to show them you were capable.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out.” Your voice was mild, an undertone of understanding lacing your words. Even if it were Uncle’s idea, it would fall on Arthur either way if things went wrong, as it always did. And you knew he cared, even though he never showed it. Or think he didn’t show it.

He was about to speak, but a loud voice broke through your conversation. “Gotten over me that fast, has she? Already moving on to the gang’s grouch? I’m hurt. Here I walked around thinkin’ you missed me!” You gave Arthur a last look, squeezing his knee to gaze at Sean as he dramatically held his hands to his heart. Laughing at his antics, you stood up. “I’m not sure anyone missed you when you were gone, right Arthur?” You strolled off with the Irish man following you, not noticing the wistful, prolonged stare the blue-eyed man had set on you since you touched his knee with your delicate hand, the feeling of your skin leaving a fire trail he couldn’t douse.

-

“That’s it, Ada.” The grey coat of the Andulasian was silky under your palm as you graced her sun-warmed coat, giving her a carrot you stole from Pearson’s wagon as you distracted him with your mindless chatter the following evening. Her ears perked up at your soft voice, munching. She nickered contentedly as her mane blew under the frisk breeze that wafted around you.

“You know, you should’ve settled for a faster horse instead of an Andalusian. She’ll slow you down.” A gruff voice broke out in the otherwise calm spot as the sound of spurs clanking was accompanied by heavy footsteps. You looked up at the man, noting how he leaned lazily against the empty hitching post and put his hands on his belt. It surprised you, it did. He didn’t usually instigate a conversation with you.

“She’s fast enough, my Ada. And she’s family now, so.” You voiced your thoughts softly, hearing his statement from many others when Arthur, Dutch, and Micha returned to the desolated mining town with two horses and a crying Sadie up in Colter. The horse piqued your interest when you set your eyes on her, and Arthur kindly let you keep her for the time being, planning on selling her when they got the chance. Your disagreement was apparent, and not putting up much of a fight; he let you keep her. Hosea, too, opposed it when he saw the mare, but your stubbornness made him laugh. I’ll let you figure it out on your own then, he had told you.

“Well, at least we’ll know you’re safe if you get attacked by a snake.” A low chuckle left Arthur, still finding you’re choice of a companion foolish. 

“Oh, are you making jokes now?” You looked at him as he straightened and strode towards you. “Cause if you are, it’s not very funny.” You backed away slightly, not used to him being so close. He put his gloved hand on Ada’s soft coat and patted her softly. A waft of smoke reached your nose as he stood next to you, coupled with the smell of a man who did hard labor. But amidst that, there was something else, something warmer and manlier. “Well, she’s real pretty, that’s for sure.” His gaze went down to you before he directed his gaze, fastening the tie strap you didn’t secure well enough.

You rarely saw Arthur with his hat off, his hair usually peaking out from under the well-worn leather. But he didn’t wear it this morning, and you wondered why. It blew softly in the wind, a slight beard adorning his face. It fit him well, adding to his roguish appearance. He was pretty handsome.

You didn’t realize you were observing him as he focused on your not-so-good job putting on the saddle. He didn’t seem as on edge as usual, the constant frown gone and replaced with a serene expression. Arthur didn’t look as frightening this way when he was relaxed, although his advantage in height and bulky form made up for it. 

“Be careful today, yeah?” He gave you a curt nod when you replied that you would, walking over to his horse. You saw Charles walking in your direction, greeting you with a smile when he got close. 

“We should head off as soon as possible; I’m worried we might miss the wagon.” His voice was calm, as it tended to be often. Sometimes, it felt like Charles was a shadow as he kept quiet, primarily to himself. He rarely got into trouble and handled things with a clear mind. You could but only like him, finding his solitude comforting and much like your own. 

When Bill and Uncle appeared, you hoisted yourself into the saddle, giving Ada a soft pat before setting her in motion. Uncle had told you it was just up the road from camp, near the crossroads where an old, ruined church remained. “You ride first and hitch up the horse in the trees behind the church. We will stop near the crossroads to look for the wagon passing through as you get them to stop and get down on the ground.” Arthur said calmly, pointedly looking at you. 

As you rode off, Arthur stared after you as you disappeared between the trees. The worry had settled in his stomach when Hosea brought up the idea for you to tag along. He wasn’t opposed to you doing your share in the gang, but bringing you on such a spontaneous mission made him uneasy.

“She’ll be fine, Arthur, and we’ll have our eyes on her the whole time.” Charles’s hushed voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he secured his gun on the saddle. Even though Charles seemed calm, a slight worry still tainted his words. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…” 

“I understand.” They sat in their saddles, heading out after Uncle’s lead. 

“You know, after this, you will realize how much I do for this gang. Looking up this lead has not been an easy feat, gentlemen.” He looked proud in his seat, bringing his hands up like he already had secured the money. “Sure, Uncle, drinking and talking to some bum who just might be lying to you is exactly what this gang needs right now.” Uncle just scoffed at Arthur. 

“You know, you should be nicer to me, Arthur, and you will be after you realize this will bring us a well-deserved fortune.”

“Yeah? And what are you going to spend it on? More booze?”

-

The church where you said goodbye to Ada was no short of run-down. Missing planks, bottles with an unnamed liquid inside, and cigarettes everywhere made you wonder what kind of people sought shelter here. You didn’t have trouble finding it because it wasn’t too far from camp like you were told. Trying not to think about leaving Ada in such an environment, you wandered towards the road you were told they would pass through. 

‘

You hid behind a tree, shielding you from anyone coming down the path. You hoped Uncle was correct; otherwise, things could go south fast. No stranger would let a hurt woman linger on the road; likewise, they wouldn’t let her stumble to the seat with a hurt leg, meaning you would get the driver on the ground. Simple but effective. You only hoped Uncle had been correct, that this would be easy. 

Taking Karen’s advice to loosen a few buttons on your shirt, you revealed some of your cleavage. Make him more willing, quoting her words. The skin now exposed glows in the sunlight from the light layer of sweat coating your skin from the heat. You smile to yourself. This’ll do just fine. You run your hands on the ground to dirty up your skirt like you had been crawling in the dirt. You didn’t want to think about how hard it would be to get it out of the fabric since you likely had to clean it.

Peaking up from the tree, you could spot Arthur, Uncle, Bill, and Charles from a distance, gazing upon your spot as masks adorned their faces. Who were they trying to fool? They looked ominous where they sat on their horses. God, if the driver got the slightest look at them, he would run the other way, and the operation would be over. You felt your hands grow clammy at the suspense as your shoulders tensed, sitting on the ground as you leaned against the tree. 

You took your face in your hands, massaging your temple. “Okay, wagon approaches; I frantically run out from the woods, screaming at the driver to help. He stops and steps down on the ground to ask me what’s going on, hopefully worried. I tell him I’m getting chased by a maniac, and the others will handle the rest.” You breathed out as your heart beat wildly, voicing your plan aloud. “Easy peasy, right?”

That’s when you heard it, the crunch of the wheels rolling in the ground in the distance growing louder. Taking a deep breath, you ruffled your hair slightly and leaped out from the tree, running towards the road like satan himself was after you.

“Mister, please!” Your voice shrieked out, startling the man. With an exasperated expression, you stumbled down after tripping on your skirt, getting dirtier from the mud covering the path. Holding your hand on your leg, you gazed up at the men above you who looked at you alarmed. His face was adorned with small eyes and wrinkles that depicted his old age as he had to squint to see you. It made you question why such an old man drove a fortune alone but pushed the thoughts away. “You have to help me!”

“Miss, what’s happened to ya?” Immediately, he slowed the horses, stepping down from the wagon to inspect the predicament before him. He looked friendly, just like his tone was kind, and worry filled his eyes as he jogged towards you. Kind, but foolish.

“Some men trailed me, oh some god-awful men trailed me, and when I cut through the woods with my horse, she freaked out and bucked me off!” Panic settled in your voice as you looked pleadingly at the man holding your shoulder. “Please, mister, my leg hurts awfully bad; I think it’s broken.” Tears filled your voice, choking up the words leaving your mouth. His hands found your shoulders as he kneeled. “Come here, Miss. We’ll get you home, yeah?” You nodded at him with pleading eyes.

The air around you was calm, and the wind blew softly, contrasting your shrill voice in the early morning as he helped you stand up. With your weight on his shoulders, he didn’t even have the time to turn around before the cold metal of a pistol met the back of his head.

The pistol cocked. Frozen beside you, the hands supporting you grew still as the blood on his face drained, eyes staring into yours like he could see Arthur behind him in the reflection of your eyes.

“Let’s not do that. Why don’t you step away from the woman and throw your gun on the ground?” Arthur’s cold but calm demeanor frightened even you, looking different from the man you were used to. “Real slow now.” His eyes found yours, staring from under his hat as he spoke. A chill went down your spine, now understanding why he had a reputation for coming off as frightening. Behind him, Charles was rummaging through the wagon as Uncle and Bill stood behind him on their horses, acting as lookouts as their rifles were pointed at the man beside you. 

“Listen, I work for Kerosene and Tar, Leviticus Cornwall, alright?” His voice was shaking, but he still tried to scare the men. Bold. You could hear Bill curse in the distance, the name familiar to them. Judging from their reaction, it wasn’t good news, and the anxiety rose in you like wildfire again as you tried to get away from the man holding you, his presence now suffocating.

“Hey, step away from her old man.” Arthurs’s voice grew firmer as the words rumbled in his chest, pushing the gun tighter against his temple when the man grabbed your shoulders harder. When you turned your head towards the elderly man, he looked as frightened as you, shocked by how the situation had transpired.

“Hey, Arthur, I got the money!” Charle’s satisfied voice made you both look up, but as you did, the sight of horses charging towards you in the distance made your eyes widen. Your breath stuck in your throat at the picture, your pulse rising as you struggled to control your quivering palms.

“Aw, shit. Uncle!” Arthurs voiced his annoyance at the downturn of the situation as he hit the elderly man with his gun, his body falling limp beside you as he held his head in his hands. Shocked, you looked at his squirming body as he writhed on the ground. Before you could shake away the shock that nailed your feet shut, you felt a pair of arms shake your petrified form.

“Get your head straight girl!” Amidst the loud sound of hooves filling your ears from every direction, Arthur shouted at you as he grabbed the horn on the saddle and hopped onto his horse. Sitting tall, he placed his arms under yours so he could lift you. Now seated before him, the sudden motion made your head spin as the world around you stayed a constant blur.

“Bill! We’ll split up, make it harder for them to track us. You go with Charles and Uncle to the left, and we’ll go straight! Stay out of camp for awhile!” His shouting brought you back to reality, the sound of bullets heading towards you growing louder the clearer your head got. Bill shouted in agreement as he cursed loudly and took off hastily, rifle in his hands as the three escaped the scene. Making a clicking noise, Arthur urged the horse to move, the force pushing your body forward from the sudden speed. The severity of the situation dawned on you when you glanced back at the riders following you. Your heart beat heavily against your chest; the number of men chasing after you could only be likened to a whole army. 

“There’s so many!” The wind wisped your hair around you as you flew through the country. You glanced back at Arthur. “Yeah, I know! But I think the others got the worst of it!” His statement did nothing to calm your racing nerves as bullets rushed past you. Boadicea’s muscles moved fervently under you as Arthur spurred her on. Fast didn’t seem like fast enough. The pace painted the world blurry as you 

rode on for a long time, the skies beginning to turn dark.

After a long while following the road, Arthur steered off it and up a hill into a tightly grown forest. “I think we’re losing them!” Your voice flew in the air as the wind in your ears whistled when you looked back. Almost stumbling on a rock, you both flew forward as Arthur’s heavy weight fell on you momentarily. A choked sound left your throat as the air left you, and you heard him curse out a sorry behind you. Recovering quickly, Boadicea picked up the pace once again as you gazed behind you, trying to see if they had gained on you.

Why in the world were there so many? Maybe Arthur was right, and it was a setup. After a while, the sound of hooves slowly grew distant, the only noise being your heavy breaths intermingling as you felt the adrenalin still run through your veins. 

“Shit, Arthur. What the hell was that?”

“That is why you don’t trust Uncle’s shit plans!” His voice was sharp like glass as he realized he was right like he usually was. “Foolish-minded fools, the lot of ’em!” He voiced his thoughts angrily. He was tense behind you, every move filled with a raging fury as he swiftly urged the horse forward.

“What do we do now?” You voiced your concerns worryingly. You had no idea where you were; the place was unfamiliar. It had grown chilly as the sun disappeared from the blue sky, the cold wind now apparent as the danger dissipated, and your body grew aware. 

“We find somewhere to hide until the next morning; they’ll probably be out looking for us, seeing as they think we have their money.” You hoped the others were well, even though you weren’t entirely too happy with how things had transpired. If Arthur wasn’t lying, they got the worst of it. You wanted to voice your concerns but decided to keep it to yourself for the time being; not entirely too sure that’s what he wanted to hear right now.

“I know a place where we can hide. It’ll be cold, but we’ll be safe. For now.” Unbeknownst to you, he glanced down at your shivering form. 

After a while, you could feel your breath calm down enough for you to relax slightly. Although you were still sitting up tensely, aware of the position you were in. Arthur was a big man, towering behind you, almost embracing you as his arms held the reigns at your sides. The warmth radiating from him was immense, and the softness of his scout jacket softened the impact of your back to his chest as the horse galloped. It did make you somewhat uncomfortable being that close to the man, but as time passed and the colder the air got, you found yourself sheepishly leaning backward to stop the chills running through your body. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it or, worse, push you away from him. 

The top of your head only reached his jaw when you glanced up at him, leaning your head back slightly. He was focused on the road ahead; eyes squinted angrily as he still grumbled bitterly under his breath. The corners of your mouth raised slightly before you curled your lips under your teeth, turning to look forward. He really was a grump sometimes.

Leaning forward, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck to try to calm your nerves. “You know, I’ve never been good at riding horses, so thank god you’re with me. No coordination whatsoever.” You laughed, trying to distract yourself from being chased through the now-dark country. Even though you couldn’t see them anymore, they were probably still on your lead. “We should be lucky we didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere. When we stumbled over that rock, I thought we were don-”

“That’s the place over there.” His gruff voice interrupted your nervous blabbering.

Your head perked up at his mention. It wasn’t much to cheer for, run-down seeming like a compliment compared to this place. Although still standing, it looked like it would fall apart if someone as much as touched it. But it had a door, and the windows were barred, protecting it from the winds rummaging through the landscape. I guess that counts for something.

“You sure they won’t find us here?” A gust of smoke from the cold surrounded you when you spoke. Logically, if they had followed your direction, they would probably have gone rummaging through every abandoned house they encountered on the way. The only answer you got was a grunt, and you almost rolled your eyes at him. What splendid company you would have for the rest of the night. Although, he had been right about the whole ordeal, so it wasn’t hard for you to see where he came from. If your previous thought had been correct, all of this would fall on Arthur. With him being in higher authority in the gang, he also held more responsibility and had to make sure the plans went along smoothly.

As you approached the cabin hastily, he stopped the horse in a quick motion, the dirt flying in the air as it surrounded you both. Hopping down from the saddle, he patted Boadicea gently on the neck. “Come ‘ere.” His hands went around your waist as he hoisted you down from the tall animal, fingers squeezing subtly around your waist as he steadied you on the ground, avoiding your gaze. 

“Why don’t you hitch her up by the door? I’ll have a quick look in the cabin.” As he pointed to Boadicea, you gave him a curt nod as you did what he asked. “Will she be alright out here all night?” You blurted out as you fastened the rope against one of the planks in the fence surrounding the cabin’s front porch. A distant reassurance from Arthur could be heard as he ensured you would be alone and undisturbed. Giving the animal one last pat, you stepped up the wooden stairs, wrapping your arms around you. Since the sun had disappeared from the sky, it was dark inside, and your eyes found it troubling to adapt since the moon didn’t light up the room. 

The house was eerie. Furniture still adorned the chipped, wooden planks with thick dust covering the various surfaces. The air was cold, with the smell of wood mingling with the ever-so-slightly scent of moldy food left on the plates. It looked like the people that had been living here had just walked away during their dinner.

“I wonder who lived here.” you thought out loud. Your voice was barely a whisper like the people were still sleeping upstairs. Although muted by the carpet, the floorboards creaked when you stepped inside, the fabric now muddy from your shoes. Arthur was shaking the planks nailed to the windows from the inside, making sure they would stay in their place

“Come on. I’ll keep a lookout for a while, see if I can hear them passing by. Get some rest.” He pointed you toward a botched chair in the corner. It didn’t look like the most comfortable chair, but it would have to do for the night. Not that you had a choice anyway.

“Are you sure? I can accompany you if you want.” Your words grew warm at his selfness, looking at him with a prolonged gaze as he reached to take off his jacket. He held it towards you and, as he secured his hat, bowed his head as he headed out the door.

“Nah, get some rest, alright?” You were left in the darkness as the door closed, trembling from the shivers racking through you with the heavy jacket hanging from your grasp.

-

What the hell was he thinking? He daydreamed about you like he had every right to imagine you that way when you rode with him. Hell, you would probably spit in his face if you knew that most of his thoughts involved you. What a sad man you are, Arthur Morgan, thinking you could ever get your hands on her. Pure and warm, that’s what you were. You were too good. Your care extended further than his ever had, treating him like he deserved your kindness. Deserved you. He kept his distance from you, only speaking to you when necessary to try to make you understand that he wasn’t a good man—but being as close to you as he had during the ride shut off his brain entirely.

The guilt ran through him as he sat on the porch, leaning against the door. Being in the same space as you proved to be too much for him now, the smell of your hair still clouding his mind. Shit, it was impossible to keep you out of his mind. Raising from the coldness of the ground, he swept his hands over his face, leaning his arms to rest against the fence as he observed into the distance. The place was surrounded by trees, somewhat deep in the woods, quite far from the path. He hoped it was far enough, not wanting to put you in more danger than he already had. 

Irritation was still running through him at the outcome of the situation. He knew this would happen. At least they got away with the money. But if Cornwall’s men managed to get ahold of Bill, Uncle, and Charles, it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t feel up for a rescue mission right now; they had far more complicated things to think about.

-

As you sat in the chair for a while, wrapped in the oversized jacket Arthur lent you, your eyes became familiar with your surroundings. Finally, you could breathe out, although the stress from the predicament you just got yourself into raced through your body, making it hard for you to rest. It was dark and cold, and you missed the comforts of falling asleep in your bedroll at the lookout, surrounded by the women’s quiet whispering. Although, you felt safe enough knowing Arthur was outside in case anyone would stumble upon you two. 

There was a large table in the middle of the room where Arthur had placed his satchel and some benches adorning the walls by the stove. A fireplace was by one of the walls with various portraits perched on it, along with some candles and other trinkets. Yawning, you stepped up from the seat, wrapping the jacket tighter around you as you stepped towards the wall, examining the portraits. You wondered who they were as you ran your nimble fingers over the dusty surface, a stoic face now starting to show. You laughed slightly under your breath; the man looked downright horrified as the woman beside him smiled warmly. Was that his wife? You turned the frame, squinting so you could read the writing. 

“Ms.Hevett with son, Mr.Hevett.” Hmm, they both appeared to be very old. Mamas-boy maybe? You giggled again, putting your hand over your mouth to dull the sound. Returning the portrait, you glanced around. Oh, maybe Arthur had a match to light the candle! Well, of course, he had a match; he smoked every chance he got.

You tiptoed towards the door as it creaked when you pushed it open quietly. You called out for Arthur gently, seeing him leaning on the fence. His head turned to yours, alarmed, looking behind you as his hand rested on the gun in his holster. “You alright?” The words flew out from his mouth as he tensed, walking towards you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wondered if you have a match.” He looked at you for a moment, then furrowed his brows as he grabbed the edge of the door. “A match? Why? You don’t smoke.” 

You glanced sheepishly at him now, realizing you might be bothering him. “Well, there’s a candle in there, and I just, I, would be more comfortable if it wasn’t so dark. That’s all.” He scoffed slightly at your words. “You supposed to be sleepin’; what does it matter if it’s dark?” He asked you in disbelief. You only pursed your lips, staring at him as the moonlight reflected on his face. A sigh left him as he beckoned you inside, giving one last glance around the outside of the cabin. 

“This candle right here. If only we had some firewood, we could also warm the place. See, there’s a fireplace! I imagine the house was cozy when it wasn’t run-down.” You babbled as he followed behind you, reaching for a match in his bag. As he did at camp yesterday, he lights the match at the sole of his boot. Immediately, it casts the room in a warm blanket. It didn’t feel so eerily anymore, and the flame flickered around you softly.

He raised his brows as he spoke. “First, you want me to light this damned candle, and now you want me to go chop us up some wood?” He sounded more amused than his earlier cranky mood, but still, you looked at him unamused. “It was just an observation, alright?”

He chuckled lightly as he looked at you, observing you for a few seconds before speaking up. “You okay to sleep now?” His rough voice spoke the words as he motioned to leave again.

“Um, sure. Arthur, did you know a mother and her son had been living here? It said so on the portrait. I wonder what happened to them?” The words left you hurriedly, looking to say something to make him stay with you for a while longer. It was hard to explain, but you felt safer with him. In here. With you. 

You pointed towards the portrait. He glanced at you shortly before stepping back into the room. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been here a few times.” His answer was short.

“Oh.”

The air was stuffy, and the tension grew thick as you looked at each other. Neither of you knew what to say since Arthur always seemed to get tongue-tied around you, and you were unsure of how to converse with him. You draped the jacket even closer, staring at the floorboards.

“Ya still cold?” He startled you slightly, your head perking up at his words. “Umm, yeah, a little, but the jacket’s helping… so.” He nodded at you, grabbing the belt with his hands, tightening his lips together, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked like he was expecting you to say something, waiting for the words to leave your mouth.

“Oh, sorry, you’re probably cold as well. Here you can have it back.” You stepped towards him, the jacket slipping off your shoulder. 

“No, no. You take it, I’m used to it, alright?” His words were kind and selfless, and you felt terrible for not bringing your own jacket. Of course, he was cold; it was freezing in here. Knowing he cared enough for you to put your comfort before his own made your heart beat slightly faster. 

Once again, he went to exit the door and leave you in the empty house, but the moment he opened it, the words left you before you could stop them.

“Will you stay in here?” It was silent as the raindrops started to fall outside, pattering on the roof as the tension grew suffocatingly thick. Glancing at you with his head bowed, he cleared his throat. 

“It’s just I’ll feel safer with you in here. That’s all.” Feeling the need to explain your sudden outburst, you felt a blush rise at the humiliating situation. He probably thought you were childish, finding your words annoying and demanding.

Giving you a curt nod, he closed the door behind him, pushed one of the side tables against the door, and locked it.

“It won’t rain in, so don’t worry. Now,” He leaned back on the chair by the table in the middle of the room, putting one leg over his other to lean the ankle against it, taking his gun out of the holster and cleaning the dirty metal. “Get some sleep. We’ll set out in the morning.”

You listened to him this time and sat on the chair, bringing your legs up towards your chest as you closed your eyes. You knew it would. be hard for sleep to find you, but you still gave it a chance. 

-

You were wrong; you were able to sleep. But it didn’t last you very long, for the cold had seeped through both skin and bones, leaving you with tremors running through your already shaking body. You could still hear the thunder in the distance and the heavy rain splattering against the wooden roof. You opened your eyes, finding another pair staring right at you. You felt your stomach turn, the display of emotions running deep in his eyes as he observed you. His legs were spread wide where he sat, keeping sight of both you and the door in case someone barged through. The flickering of the faint light hit his eyes, painting his otherwise blue eyes a darker tone. It felt like a dream.

“Alright, that’s enough.” A heavy sigh left the man as he stood up. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked over to you. Grabbing under your arms, he lifted you as he sat on the chair. Gently, he placed you on his lap, with your head resting on his neck and legs draped over his thighs. 

“Jesus, woman, you’re freezing.” As he talked lowly, you could feel his voice rumble in his chest, the feeling soothing against you.

Oh, darn it, he was warm. How could he be so warm? No thoughts except warming your freezing frame made you wrap your arms around his waist, the thick jacket covering both of you. You felt his hands run over your arms, trying to warm you up as you moved against him, relishing in the heat from his body as you nuzzled your cheeks in the crook of his neck.

And finally, you fell asleep. 

-

“Arthur.” Jolting awake, Arthur’s eyes widened in the candle-lit room. His whole body tensed up as he gazed down at you, alarmed. 

Seemingly unhurt, a worried expression was on your beautiful face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you. Shushing him, you placed your hand on his bicep carefully. 

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Is everything alright?” Your eyes were tired but warm as he blinked down at you, now noticing his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you towards him. “Yeah, ’m alright.” His words were low, choked at the sight of you staring this tenderly at him. This was a dream, he told himself.

As his arms relaxed around you slightly, you wrapped yours tighter around his neck. He was so suffocating, his scent surrounding you from every direction as you basked in its grasp. His eyes were intense, the now sullen look he always carried vulnerable, as the folds around his eyes evened out. It still felt like you were in a dream, and you longed for it never to end. Good dreams never found you, but now you had it in your hands as the comforting blanket cloaked around you like Arthur was wrapped around your scorching body.

No words were spoken as you gasped slightly, nimble hands stroking up his arms as the broadness stretched against his shirt. His cheek was warm when you placed your trembling fingers on his scruff, tracing small figures as you observed the scar on his jaw and the slight bend of his nose from getting it dislocated often. As you grazed his skin, your eyes never left him, even when he closed them to revel in your touch. Being this close to him was comforting; the contact was foreign to you but something you had longed for. Feeling wanted by him was what you wanted your dreams to turn into for the longest time. And it finally did.

The world around you grew quiet; only your breathing was audible as his chest moved under you, heavy intakes of breath raking through him. Letting your gaze fall to his lips, yours parted slightly. Through hazy eyes, you closed the small distance between you. A warm surge spread through you as his chapped lips met yours, his slight beard tickling your skin. A low moan escaped at the contact, and your heart burst at the seams, the fire flaring and oozing with each movement. You always wondered what pressing your lips against his would be like, his stoic character making it feel like your wishes were miles away. But now you knew, and it felt better than you imagined. His hands were still around your waist, holding you tightly as you felt all the excitement overflowing in your veins at his apparent contentment of your actions.  

You snuggled into him, holding his cheeks and caressing them with your thumb. Slowly, you leaned your head back, feeling dizzy from the emotions clouding your brain. He followed you as you pulled away, almost as if you hauled him towards you like tied with a lasso. His breath warmed your skin as his lips were placed in the conjecture of your neck as he leaned against you. As you giggled slightly from the tickling sensation, he breathlessly chuckled as he left wet trails up to the space under your ear, caressing the small of your back with his large hands. His gloved hand against the fabric of your blouse felt enticing, your back arching due to his touch, your upper body now pressed flush against him. You held his head close as your hands were buried in his thick hair. His lips found yours again, shifting against you fervently as he moved with more vigor. 

Of course, it was a dream, Arthur thought to himself. It bled into every nightly thought he has had of you now for the longest time. Your scent reached his nostrils. It was so sweet, so you. Small arms were wrapped around him, and your legs were now glued at either side of his thighs as your soft lips touched the skin under his ears in a silent kiss. Shivers wracked through his body as he ran his coarse hand alongside your waist, the soft woolen fabric hugging the curve of your waist tightly. Small gasps emitted from you as your hands ran up his stomach to his chest, planting small, tender packs against the slightly sunburnt skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Sinful, that’s how you looked. 

He lifted you slightly, capturing your soft lips in his. The sweet caress of your skin against his felt divine, the wet noise of your tongues finding each other mingling with the sound of the rain outside. As the jacket slid down your shoulder, the man was left staring at the soft curve of your round breasts, revealed from the unbuttoned cotton of your blouse, the slight hardness of your nipples showing through the fabric.

“Arthur”

“Mmh.” He was too far gone now, but he kept assuring himself he was dreaming. You would have never put your hands on him if he wasn’t. He had noticed how you huddled closer to him from the cold when you rode on the horse, your figure nestling against his, curves snug against him. Did you do it on purpose? Were you aware of what you were doing to him? He was still trying to recover from what transpired in his head when you escaped the riders. No, not from the bullets seeking to pierce his flesh, but your bottom. Your soft, tantalizing rear. It had been flush against him as you leaned forward earlier, the round hips taunting him temptingly, almost as if they begged for his hands to caress the soft curves that stretched the fabric that covered it. Damned skirt. What he would have done to push it up your legs and reveal the tender flesh hidden beneath them. Your slit bare against the saddle’s leather as you squirmed, jiggling your cheeks like you were begging Arthur to give in to your desire. Shit. He shouldn’t have been thinking about you like that, not when you were right before him.

Leaning forward slightly, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck. You spoke, but the words that left your mouth turned into nonsense in his clouded head. 

He had given you some nonsensical answer as he stared down at you through hazy eyes as your hips moved in sync with the horse’s motion, words flexed mindlessly out of his mouth as his restraint seemed non-existent. Your terms of cheerful disbelief grew distant as heat traveled through his body at his unholy thoughts, mouth too dry to give you a coherent answer. His hands moving on the reigns, trying to keep them from indulging your softness against him so he could feel the tremendous friction he was sure would send him straight to heaven. Christ, you riding on a horse should be illegal.

But now you were here, with him, and he had your soft body in his grasp. The tension from his earlier thoughts became apparent, his hands moving on their own as they familiarized themselves with your curves that felt so real. Too real.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your button as he hastily lifts you. Automatically, your legs seek ahold of his waist, arms around his neck. He moved quickly over the floor as the lightning lit up the room from the cracks in the door, laying you down on the table and leaning down to cover your body with his. He was so close to you now, feeling every part of him press against you—every aspect. 

Snap!

Frozen in place, wide eyes adorn your face from the sudden sound. Arthur was still above you as he sharpened his ears, finding it difficult to hear since the rain hit the ground loudly outside. The snap had been just outdoor, like someone stepping on a branch. Panicked, you tried to find a reasonable explanation: an animal, a branch falling, or maybe Boadicea had moved.

Slowly, Arthur raised his body from yours, leaving you flustered and scared on the table. With a frightened stare, you looked at him as he raised his finger to his mouth, slowly stepping away so the wooden planks wouldn’t creek. Leaning against the door’s side, his hand rested on his pistol. Stay still. His eyes told you to do as he said, and so you did. It’s not like you were able to anyway, your muscles petrified. They had found you. The worst outcome filled your mind; what would they do to you if they got the upper hand? Turn you in, or worse, put a bullet between your eyes?

The loud noise of the door slamming open made you shoot your eyes toward it, finding Arthur standing in the doorway with his pistol pointed out into the dark.

“Aw, shit.” His throaty voice was laced with disbelief, making you lift your head from the table. Your laugh filled the space as the back of your head hit the table with a loud clang, eyes squeezed shut from the sight in front of you. It had seemed like Boadicea had found a friend, the stallion standing still from the sudden intrusion and ran away in haste. “C’mon, get outta here!” The surprised man cursed after the horse, beckoning it out as your hands found your face. The adrenaline still racing through you made your hands shake as the hilarity of the situation made you speechless. Placing your hand on your racing heart, you sat up as the old cutlery clinked underneath you, hearing Arthur’s loud, angry steps hit the porch steps. 

Standing before you, he sighed at your amusement, but you could see a slight smile worm its way underneath his frown. Although it quickly disappeared as he gazed at you before him. Right.

What in the world were you thinking? Now clear-minded, the intimacy you had shared entered your mind. Shame rose in you as your cheeks blazed, taking ahold of your blouse to cover your exposed state.

“Um…” You didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence before he cut you off. Hastily, he grabbed his rifle on the table and the pouch in harsh movements, making sure not to touch you before he went towards the door with big steps.

“It’s soon morning. Stay here until then; we’ll leave in a while.”

After the door slammed shut, the quietness was deafening. Now alone, you could see the slightest bit of light entering the cracks in the walls, but it didn’t ease the heaviness in your chest. It hadn’t been a dream, you thought to yourself. Every minute had been actual: his coarse hands, desperate lips, and body heat. If you closed your eyes and focused enough, you could still feel the traces of fingers over your clothing as his smell reached your nose once again, like he had united with the ghosts of this house and now haunted you. Taunting you. Why had he reacted so yet touched you so fiercely? You felt a pang in your chest at the thought, not understanding. 

Opening your eyes, you buttoned your blouse in shame and put your hands on your cheeks as you lifted yourself off the table. It was still chilly in the room but not as bad as the night before. Mindlessly, you wandered over the space, sat in the chair where Arthurs’s jacket lay, and brought your knees up to your chest, hugging it tight with your arms. The blissful moment you had together faded, the warm touches dimmed into cold, malicious blows to your heart as the hope of finally having a pleasant dream vanished, the moment turning into an all too familiar nightmare.

[daydreamingqueen1]

Puppy eyes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader (can be seen as platonic too)

Warnings: none. fluff, spencer being a bit of a germaphobe, no y/n, pretty sure is gn reader too

Summary: Spencer Reid vs puppy, need I say more

Word count: 1.3k

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It's the best day ever.

Your day had started pretty normal to be honest, you would even say it was kind of shitty since you had missed the subway you usually took for your daily commute to the BAU.

But, as wiser people say: Everything happens for a reason.

Because as you are making your way to work, your ears catch the soft sound of a creature whimpering. Trying to find the source, you give a couple tentative steps with your head turning from left to right like you are a hunting hound.

Ironically, behind the decorative bushes that surround the FBI building entrance, you find the origin of the sound.

It's not a hound but it's close enough. It's a puppy.

A beautiful, chocolate spotted puppy.

"Oh my god, sweetie, come here!" you gush automatically, your hand extending gently to reach for the animal currently crying between the bushes and the wall.

The adorable puppy looks up at you a bit hesitant at first, big brown eyes meeting yours. It gives a sniff to the air, checking the scent of your palm from afar, you almost squeal from how cute it looks.

Then it wags its tail.

You make kissy noises to coax him closer, your voice getting two tones higher, "Come here puppy!"

It works because soon enough it walks out of its hiding spot and nuzzles into your palm eagerly, tail wagging from side to side.

You practically lunge to grab the poor thing, "Look at you! You are so cute!"

The puppy doesn't seem to mind your cuteness aggression though, its fluffy body melting on your arms when you scratch behind its long ears, "You're coming home with me."

Best day ever.

But you can't just ignore your responsibilities and walk back home to stay with it, and it wouldn't be sensible to leave such a young puppy alone in your apartment either.

So you do the next most reasonable thing.

Your smile almost takes up your whole face when you walk out of the elevator with the puppy in your arms.

Penelope spots you first, immediately dropping the files on her hands on a random desk to come rushing to you, "Oh my god! Oh my god! It's that a puppy my eyes are seeing?!"

You giggle, pretty much vibrating with joy at this point, "Yes, isn't it the cutest thing ever?"

"Aww, my heart can't deal with this!" she cries, hands fanning herself dramatically.

"Where did you get it?" Prentiss chirps in, hers and almost every other head in the bullpen looking up from their desk to look at you. Well, at the puppy.

You keep walking into the office with Garcia looming all over you, "It was crying outside. This little thing was all alone in the bushes."

A hoard of agents are suddenly surrounding you, eager to get a closer look.

"You'll have to look if it belongs to someone," Morgan says, which makes you instantly pout.

"It doesn't have a collar, idiot," Emily argues quickly, "Such a profiler you are."

"I wanna keep it," you smile brightly, "I think it's a boy."

You turn the puppy onto it's back.

"Yep, definitely a boy," Morgan chuckles, he attempts to pet its head but the creature recoils in your arms, clearly overwhelmed at the amount of people.

Noticing the puppy is a bit scared, you pull back from the crowd, only then you notice a certain agent who remains seated on his desk.

“Don't you want to see it, Spencer?” you ask eagerly.

He shakes his head, his body leaning away slightly, “I can see it from right here, don't worry.”

“Oh, come on Reid, don't tell me you are afraid of dogs,” Derek never loses a chance to tease him.

Spencer gives him a flat look, “I'm not scared of dogs, I’m just aware of the amount of diseases they can transmit to humans.”

You tsk your tongue. “But he's so cute, and it doesn't look like it has rabies or anything,” you look down at the dog while approaching his desk, talking directly at it with a baby voice, “Tell me, do you have rabies, little puppy?”

It just stares blankly at you. Proof enough. “See?”

Spencer, ever the statistics expert, begins his rant, “Well, actually, rabies is not the most common disease dogs can carry, nor the only one. Illnesses that pass between animals and humans are known as zoonotic diseases and a 2007 study based in Finland shows that noroviruses are one of the leading causes of diarrheal diseases among people of all age groups and that these can survive in dogs and be passed along to– Please don't get that thing any closer.”

You chuckle at the panic look Spencer gives you when you reach his side. Truthfully, you aren't going to make him touch the puppy if he's uncomfortable with it, but a little bit of teasing is at the order of the day, “Oh, really? Come on, holding it for a second won't kill you.”

You pull the puppy up next to your face and give him your best puppy eyes, mimicking talking as the puppy, “Please? Am I not cute enough to pet?”

Spencer gives you a long look, “Yes, very cute.”

Forcing down your blush, you extend the puppy to him, “Then pet it.”

He presses his lips in a line, his hands coming up defensively as he rolls backwards on his office chair, “I think I'll pass.”

You chuckle and are about to back off when the puppy squirms in your arms, leaping out from your hands.

The scene unfolds in front of your eyes almost in slow motion. You watch how the pup flies in the air, its short body extended as a superhero.

Spencer catches it, thank god.

“Oh, no,” he squeaks when he realizes what he's done, holding the puppy as if it were about to explode, panickedly starting to name every possible disease, “Pasteurella, Salmonella, Brucella, Yersinia enterocolitica, Leptospira–”

His alarmed ramble gets interrupted by the enthusiastic puppy licking up his cheek.

You freeze for a moment, expecting him to die from a heart attack.

Spencer giggles.

“It's giving me kisses,” his face scrunches up adorably at the onslaught of affection, “It tickles, buddy.”

You can't help the relieved laugh that escapes your lips, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to have to wash my face with antibacterial soap though,” he chuckles as he puts the puppy down on his lap, away from further kisses.

Oh, and you've just fucked up so bad because your heart gets squeezed inside your chest at the endering sight of Spencer and the puppy staring at each other.

“You are right, he's cute,” Spencer turns to smile at you, the animal's tail wagging incessantly.

You fucked up good.

“Aww, look at you two,” Penelope says excitedly, “It even looks like you, Reid!”

Your gaze shifts back and forth from your coworker to the creature on his lap. Penelope has a point, you can kind of see the resemblance. The puppy has long ears with soft, brown curls covering them that look similar to Spencer's long hair. The cute, hazel puppy dog eyes go without saying.

Morgan snorts, “Babygirl, you are right, it kind of looks like the kid.”

You pick up the puppy and smile, “Seems like I got myself my own mini Doctor Reid,”

Spencer is about to say something back when Hotch’s office opens, both him and Rossi entering the bullpen.

“Agent, please tell me that's not a dog you have there.” Hotch gives you a stern look.

“It is not, sir,” you answer, smiling apologetically and holding the puppy closer against your chest.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Everyone to the meeting room, we've got a case.”

The puppy lets out a tiny bark, and you make your way to the meeting room before Hotch can tell you anything else.

Spencer sits next to you on the round table and whispers against your ear as everyone is filling in, “I'll help you take care of little Doc here if you decide to keep him.”

Not even the gruesome details of the case are enough to sour your mood.

Best day ever.

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yep, this was inspired by all of the MGG pictures with puppies. I am weak.

leave me a prompt if you want!

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

[ddejavvu]

Can i request a hot interrogator but w spencer😭😭and he recognizes her symptoms of attraction and theyre both just so awkward and derek or someone else has to come in and save him

i deviated from your plotline just a teensy tiny bit and it's not as focused on how they both can read her but it is mentioned! i hope that's alright <3 also i did tag this with morgan's name because towards the end he's teasing her just as much and i'd fall to my knees for him in an instant so i think that's fair

--

You give yourself away immediately with your reaction to seeing Spencer walk in. You don't know it, but the doctor has been watching your demeanor for five minutes on the other side of the glass, and only when your eyes met his own did you become tense.

Before you'd been almost bored, but not in the overconfident way that criminals often are. You were more restlessly bored, drumming your fingers on the table and peering intently at the graffiti etched into the metal surface.

When he steps inside you straighten to greet him, but words fail you as your throat runs dry. The most handsome man you've ever seen, something straight out of a romance novel steps into the room, and something thuds to the pit of your stomach.

You're not guilty but you feel it, you feel like a criminal under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Hello, Y/N," He offers, smiling measuredly at you, "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm here to question you on what you might have witnessed earlier."

You'd been in a gas station during an armed robbery. The robber hadn't shot you, but that was only for time's sake, as putting a bullet through your chest would have taken away valuable seconds that he chose instead to use rushing out the back door and away from the sirens out front.

You'd been at the business end of a gun, but still you're more panicked now, hands lowering themselves into your lap when they show signs of trembling.

"Can you remember what the shooter looked like?" He asks.

Brown hair.

"He had brown hair," You speak for the first time since the agent's entry.

No he didn't.

He had blonde hair. The man in front of you has brown hair, tucked behind his ears endearingly.

"Or- uh, blonde. He was blonde."

"Blonde hair," He nods encouragingly, his lips a warm pinkish shade as he sits down across from you, "That's good. Do you remember how tall he was?"

Spencer is tall. He's tall even when seated, like he is now, his stature surely intimidating when compared to your own, and you blink the thought away, trying to recall where on the shelf beside him the man's shoulder had come up to.

"He was a little taller than the shelves," You recall, keeping your eyes on a rather crude word etched into the metal tabletop to keep yourself from ogling Dr. Reid, "Maybe 6'1."

"Alright, good." Spencer praises, and you feel your limbs actually melting, surely mush by now. He hesitates, placing his hands atop the cool desktop, "Y/N, I'd like to do a cognitive interview with you."

You wait for further explanation, but when it comes, you guiltily wish you had been killed earlier. Because if you were dead Doctor Spencer Reid wouldn't take your hands in his own, and tell you to close your eyes in a smooth, low voice.

"I want you to put yourself back there," He prompts, squeezing your hands gently, "But I'm right here. I know you must have been scared in the moment, but I need you to help us with this, and try to remember what his face looked like. Can you do that?"

You can't muster words, but you nod, and evidently Spencer's eyes are open to catch it. He squeezes your hands again, "Alright. You're standing in the gas station. You're getting breakfast before work. You hear shouting, then a gunshot. Where do you look?"

You look at the backs of your eyelids, desperately willing away the mental image of Spencer Reid's face.

"What do you do?"

You pray that he's not a mind-reader, that he can't hear the words 'adorable' and 'terrifying' and 'perfect' all at once.

"Y/N," He prompts, after a moment of your silence, "What do you do?"

"I can't-" Your eyes snap open, and you wrench your hands out of his grasp, "I'm- I'm sorry, I can't do this."

Spencer's hands come out to hover in front of him, a placating gesture but one that doesn't work.

"Okay, that's alright. But please- sit down," He watches warily as you stand, heading for the door like you're exiting a cafe and not a secure government facility, "Y/N, I need to ask you a few more questions-"

"Woah there," The door opens before you can reach it, but the man that shoulders his way through shows no sign of letting you out. He's tall, darker-skinned than Spencer, and broad chested, something you really don't need to think about after the hand-holding fiasco.

"We can't let you leave just yet," The man smiles sympathetically, and his hand comes to rest oh-so-naturally on your bicep as he turns you back towards the table, "I know you're freaking out; anyone would after looking into the barrel of a gun. But you're safe now, okay? And we need your help to keep other people safe. So let's sit down," The man guides you back into your chair, and you think you might have dropped straight to your knees if he'd asked you to. He keeps his large hands firmly, warmly on your shoulders, and as Spencer takes your hands in his again he squeezes them.

"Alright Pretty Boy," The man behind you speaks, and you swear you can hear a glimmer of amusement in his voice despite not being able to see his face, "On with the interview. Don't worry Y/N, we'll do this together."

[reveseke]

thinking about the reader being nicknamed as a crow, the crow of the team in fact. Solely known for his job title but also known for being a gift-giver. He just randomly gives whatever little things he finds to his teammates as little gifts that he deems suitable for it; Reid, Morgan, Garcia, Hotch, Prentiss, JJ, and so on.

Garcia and Reid would most honestly have them in a jar or something, sorted. Reid would most likely just leave a few little things in the pocket of his jackets or otherwise in some sort of container orginized. Prentiss would probably have something in her pockets or in one of the shelves. Morgan, JJ & Hotch keep them, but have very little idea what they would do with them (lies, give them to the kids if they feel like it. :D Morgan doesn't even have to give to his kid, he could give them to his sisters if he wanted to tbh.). Rossi probably would just forget them somewhere, same with Gideon mostly and just randomly find them and be amused by it.

Hotch doesn't mind Reader doing it as long as it doesn't distract him from the job. Also check the pockets before boarding the plane because someone most likely has something metallic in their pockets that R has found and given them (including [especially] him if R tended to be absentminded & forget things easily) that would set off the metal detectors.

[lust444men]

Do u see spencer reid as

1. Talkative towards u and shuts up during sex

2. Quiet towards u and babbles during sex

3. Talkative towards u always, including sex

4. Quiet towards u always, including sex

I saw u were wanting requests, and this isn’t necessarily one, but it’s been on my mind all day.

hi, thank you so much for this! I can talk about stuff like this for ages. I don't just do requests babe! I do thoughts and inquiries all day long. now, to Spencer.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

I personally think a mixture of 1 and 3. at first, it'll be one. all throughout the show he trying to tell the team fun lil facts, cool lil statistics, and they all shut him down!!!

"reid."

"im sorry." "for what?" "for asking."

like!! leave him alone!! so when it comes to you, the person who will always listen and care for his silly little babbles, he never shuts up!

always talking to you on the plane if u work w him, during coffee runs, late nights, everywhere! but, in the earlier times of your relationship, I feel like he'd be quiet during sex.

first you thought he was nervous, but you actually just quieted pretty boys' head!! no facts, no statistics, just a lot of soft huffs and quiet whimpers.

but, as time progresses in your relationship, he'd definitely get more vocal, with your encouragement!! praise, louder grunts, moans, groans, whines, pleas, you name it, he's expressing it. babbling about how good you feel, begging for you to keep going!

n if it's unserious sex with him (which it often is les be real), he'll attempt a lil bit of small talk, as if ur mouth isn't full of his dick rn. he just doesn't know what to do!! he doesn't wanna grab ur hair, that's too mean :((.

God, how I love yapper spence.

© LUST444MEN 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[the-au-thor]

Bestfriend Blurb #5 | Spencer Reid

This one's for the beautiful creature who kindly asked me for another blurb and gave me ideas for it. I know is not exactly what you asked for but this is the first part of your request. Hope you can enjoy it!

This is part of a series of blurbs that you can find down below:

#1

#2

#3

#4

#5

#6

Summary: Spencer and Reader are bestfriends who are in love with each other but they don't know it yet. Let's see how they find out.

Words: 1.5 k

Warnings: Go to this link!

"Are you okay?" you asked casually from your seat to Spencer, who was enjoying a glass of iced tonic water with lemon slices and mint. "Want to leave? We can go."

He smiled playfully and shook his head. "Of course not. Enjoy your margaritas, and we can leave when everyone else does."

That night marked the end of your exhibition. A photography magazine even interviewed you, which you found utterly crazy. The whole team attended the gallery, including a couple of other FBI agents and your old friends from college. After the gallery, Penelope and Emily insisted on celebrating at one of their favorite karaoke bars. When you arrived at the bar, Spencer extended his arm in front of you, palm open, asking for the keys to your car and officially declaring himself your designated driver. "You don't like driving," you argued, but he flashed one of his childlike smiles and shook his head, "It's your night, and I know you want to enjoy your margaritas. I'll drive us home."

Home.

Spencer's apartment had been infested with mold a couple of months ago, requiring urgent renovations. You couldn't resist pointing out it was due to lack of ventilation and his habit of keeping the curtains constantly closed. His landlord promptly announced that Spencer needed to leave the apartment for him to repair the whole mess before the mold spread to other units. That was the day Spencer became homeless and the day he started calling your home his own. It wasn't strange for him to bring his things to your apartment and take up the guest room. You got used to his quirks, like his clinical cleaning sprees when anxiety hit. Being roommates with Spencer was great, but what you never got used to was the warm and terrifying feeling whenever Spencer called your place "home."

"It's been a very long day," you murmured. "I'll have this last margarita, and then we can go," you promised, relaxing back into your seat, watching Derek and Savannah share a drink while following the music of a song Penelope and Emily were singing—or rather, destroying.

Lizzie, by your side, sipped her gin and tonic with a somewhat strange look. She seemed miles away inside her mind.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

She snapped out of her reverie, momentarily startled.

"Nothing."

"If something's bothering you—"

"No" she quickly answered.

"Yes," you insisted confidently.

She furrowed her brow. "No."

"Yes," you retorted, imitating her gaze until she finally rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you're a pain in my ass. I'm just tired; it's been a long night," she admitted, then smiled, nudging your shoulder. "But I'm proud of you; you stepped out of your comfort zone and succeeded."

Your cheeks blushed slightly, but you couldn't deny it. You were happy to have done it, and finally, the photos you had taken over the years saw the light. You took the last sip of your margarita and hopped off your chair with a light skip. Amir and Emma, your old college friends, convinced you to join them for one last song before leaving—a karaoke favorite: "I Want You Back" by the Jackson 5, full with choreography.

"That was amazing. It's always so much fun when you guys do that," Spencer exclaimed with a smile as he put on his jacket.

You had introduced Amir and Emma to the team years ago, and they occasionally met up in a bar to catch up and sing. Karaoke had become a tradition, and it wasn't the first time Emma, Amir and you pulled off such a performance you had prepared during your college years.

"It is fun. Maybe we'll convince you to join us someday," Amir replied with a smile, not expecting an immediate response from Spencer. He planted a kiss on each of your cheeks and cradled your face affectionately. "I'm so proud and jealous of you. The exhibition was fantastic. If you weren't doing such a wonderful job at the FBI, I'd try to persuade you to leave it for photography," he said, bidding you farewell and hugging Spencer.

You said your goodbyes, knowing that Emily, Penelope, and Lizzie would stay a bit longer that night. You and Spencer left the bar, facing the cool night as you crossed the street toward your car parked on the edge of an alley.

"Oh no," Spencer whispered, searching for something in his bag before getting into the car.You looked at him, furrowing your brow as he stepped into the passenger seat. "What happened?"

"I left the notebook you gave me at the gallery... do you think we can go get it now?"

You patted the inside pocket of your jacket where the keys to the gallery were, keys you would return tomorrow when picking up the photo frames you left hanging. You nodded, getting into the car.

"With all that eidetic memory, and you forget your notebook at a gallery," you teased, laughing, and then nodded again, making the keys jingle outside your pocket. "Let's go."

"It'll only take a moment," he promised quickly.

You knew how important that notebook was to him. You had given it to him as a kind gesture a few years ago. You didn't know him well then, having recently joined the BAU, and you had made an effort to get along with everyone by giving them a small gift to break the ice. It had worked wonderfully with Spencer. You still didn't know why that little notebook had made him so happy or why it was imperative for him to carry it everywhere, but the thought that he liked it so much pleased you.

"I hate that these things have so many locks," you complained, unlocking the last latch and pushing the door open for Spencer and you to enter the gallery. You turned to the entrance to switch on the lights. "Do you remember where you left it, or do we have to comb through the whole pla—?" Your sentence cut off because suddenly, you were breathless.

The walls were no longer adorned with your photographs (the ones you had left there just two hours ago). You silently took a step forward to scrutinize the first large canvas. You looked at Spencer, who was studying you attentively with a mischievous smile trying to hide.

"What is this?" you asked with an excited smile, not really knowing what to make of the photo that had immortalized the day when everyone decided to go for a long walk and picnic. On the way back, Penelope had twisted her ankle, and you and J.J. had decided to carry her in turns. In the photo, you were holding Pen in your arms, both smiling tiredly at the camera. "Spencer?" you looked at him again, waiting for an answer.

He smiled at you again, this time slightly moved, and took your shoulders to guide you to the next photograph. "You always portray us so we won't forget the good times we spend together," he explained, stopping you in front of a picture where you were painting Henry's face while wearing raccoon ears and having your face covered in makeup. You were sitting in front of him looking concentrated, while the little guy smiled with his eyes closed. "I don't want you to forget that you, too, are worthy of being photographed, and these moments are important."

Moved, you looked at him with teary eyes and turned back to hug him.

"That's why Lizzie was acting strange. She knew," you said when you ended the hug.

Spencer smiled."Yeah"

"Did you come up with this? Only you?" And he nodded "why?"

He furrowed his brow, looking at the photograph and then at you. "I don't know," he honestly admitted. "I just wanted to make you happy."

Your heart skipped so strongly that you couldn't stay near him without doing something foolish.

You looked around, distancing yourself from Spencer to explore the gallery at a safe distance, seeing all those photos he had compiled. Then you answered back.

"Just look at me, Spence," you pointed to the photos. "I'm already happy."

And you were. You were happy with him. For him. You were happy with your work and your friends. Right now, if allowed to exaggerate, you were the happiest person on earth.

You walked a couple more times, remembering those moments with Spencer, laughing at the anecdotes encapsulated in each photo. Occasionally, in silence, you wondered why you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You were calm, though, as if you had been anesthetized by that emotion you felt when seeing Spencer's surprise. In the silence of the place that accompanied you and Spencer, it would never feel forced or uncomfortable.

Peace.

Happiness and peace.

On the way home, you carried with you the trunk full of photographs that Spencer had taken the trouble to print and hang in the gallery. You didn't know where to put them in the apartment you shared, but you couldn't leave them lying in the gallery, not with everything they meant to you. They weren't special because you were in them; they were special because they were Spencer's gift, because he had taken them.

You brushed your teeth after taking a bath and changed into a loose and comfortable pajama. You walked down the hall to Spencer's room and tapped on his door gently. When he opened it, he was, like you, with wet hair and ready for bed.

"I just wanted to thank you for today," you murmured, then gave him a broad and honest smile. "It's been the best day I've had in a long time."

Spencer's eyes did that thing they usually did; they smiled, rising with appreciation and something more, a kind of intimacy that cut through the air in your lungs and made you feel dizzy.

"It's nothing," he replied. "I'm glad you liked it," he said, embarrassed.

"Goodnight, Spencer. Tomorrow, I'll make gratitude waffles."

Spencer accepted without hesitation; he couldn't refuse your traditional mountain of waffles with melted chocolate in the middle and small bacon muffins decorating the plate.

"Goodnight," he bid you farewell. "See you in the morning"

You hurried your steps to your room and locked yourself in as if you were escaping something dangerous. Your heart started pounding again.

He was so special, Spence. You just couldn't live without him. He was just....

Panic ran through your veins with adrenaline. You threw yourself onto your bed, typing quickly in your chat with Lizzie.

"I like Spencer."

Three simple words, and three dots that moved hyperactively on Lizzie's side of the chat.

"Okay, good. Now try again." She finally wrote back.

You bit your lips until they hurt.

"I love Spencer."

Another three simple words, but now they were the right ones because just writing them made you feel like a heavy burden had left your body. Your lungs filled with air again, and tears welled up in your eyes without you realizing they had been waiting a long time to be released.

"I mean I'm also in love with him" you clarified.

"Ding, ding, ding!!" She wrote back as you locked the screen and let out a tiny scream.

You stretched out on your bed with this new realization knocking you out, and you looked at the ceiling completely relieved. Many things now made sense, and at the same time, everything looked terrifying. You were in love with your bestfriend. The man who was in his room sharing home with you.

Spencer, on the other hand, stood behind his bedroom door, where he hung the only photograph he decided not to show you in the gallery because it was too accusatory. Derek had taken it when they went for coffee in Utah during a challenging case investigation. Derek waited for them in the table while you and Spencer decided what to order at the counter. You were studying the menu written on a huge blackboard with concentration while Spencer smiled at you, playing with your hair, unbeknownst to you.

That photograph made him think about all the times he had done that without realizing it. He became even more aware that he didn't touch people, but certainly he didn't have that problem with you. He felt vulnerable but also free. And as he looked at the photo with a smile, he wondered why the hell, when you asked why he had bothered to prepare that surprise, he didn't answer that it was because he had recently discovered that he loved you.

He was in love with you.