#there's just something about this guy in his fbi vest

[whoisspence]

"I'm a feminist, obviously
But I wouldn't really mind him savin' me
And I know that I'm fine without a man
But I think I would like his protection
I'm just bein' honest, can't change what I like
I'll never forget it, he told me one night
If anybody hurts you, hah
I'm goin' to prison for life"

[icarryitin]

Help Me?

spencer reid/gn!reader

i love being in this guy’s brain there is just something so Character about him🧡 and happy birthday to you anon!!🥳

series masterlist

word count: 4.5k // warnings: injury description (dislocated shoulder), mentions of injections and pills for pain relief, poor and inaccurate medical knowledge, non-sexual undressing, would you believe me if i told you the sexual tension in the second half of this was accidental? for those reasons this is 18+

summary: You get injured on a case, and Spencer gets to play nurse. It’s a special kind of torture for both of you.

“Try it, see what happens.”

You appear out of the shadows ahead of them, the gun in your hands aimed carefully at the Unsub’s back, like a goddamn guardian angel.

The guy isn’t going to give up without a fight, even with three federal agents to contend with, that much is obvious. His grip on his weapon is far shakier than any of yours, fingers twitching ever closer to the trigger. You’ve made the split second decision to launch yourself at him before he has the chance to fire off a shot.

Which means Spencer has a front row seat to the sickening thud of your side against the ground when you tackle the Unsub. He’s grateful that he and Hotch aren’t staring down the barrel of a gun anymore, but less grateful that it’s come at the price of the grimace clear on your face. You’ll be bruised for sure, going down as hard as you do.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks you as he hauls the Unsub up by his cuffed wrists. You take a moment to check yourself over, mentally inventory every joint and nerve, before you nod. Spencer holds a hand out towards you, which is taken without hesitation and you start pulling yourself up off the ground.

The crack of your shoulder as it pops out of the socket is so loud that the vibration of it tingles through your interlaced fingers and all the way up to his own.

A sharp yelp, followed by a weak whimper that makes his stomach flip, and he drops your hand like it’s scalding hot. You pull it into your chest with your good arm, palm cradling your elbow to give yourself a little support. Maybe you’d hit the ground a little harder than you meant to. It’s definitely dislocated. He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s manoeuvring around you, where you sit pouting in a dusty heap. It’s what he tells himself anyway, as he slips large hands underneath your FBI vest – fingers pressed snugly against your ribs, separated by only a thin shirt, and he carefully helps you to your feet. The action has his face dangerously close to yours, so close that he’s terrified you’ll be able to hear how shallow his breaths are. But you seem to be far too focused on your own breathing to really register his proximity. Hotch is ahead already, Unsub in tow, but you’re the only thing Spencer is worried about right now. Someone else can collect the abandoned firearm from the ground, he has more important things to do. Like getting you into the care of a professional instead of his clumsy hands.

“Can you walk?”

A rhetorical question if he’s ever asked one. It’s your arm he’s pulled out of the socket, not a leg. You nod anyway, gently, but you don’t pull away from him. Instead your voice is soft, unsure.

“Help me?”

Of course he does, as if he’d be able to do anything else.

Does he really need to keep a hold on you, help you across the warehouse floor and out to an ambulance? Probably not. Does he do it anyway? Absolutely. You don’t seem to mind the closeness, judging by the way you lean into the solidity of him as the two of you shuffle towards the open door. He relishes in it, just a little. Because for all the camaraderie and familiarity that has built your friendship over the past few years, touches like this are so rare. Rare and usually instigated by you, when a case has hit him a little too close to home. It’s precious. To have you in his arms the way he’s wanted, wished for, literally dreamed about. There’s an irony in his earlier misplaced attempt to help you up, somewhere. Why can he only have you this close when one of you is hurting?

Raised eyebrows from the rest of the team be damned, he’ll carry you to the ambulance if he has to. He doesn’t but he’d try if you asked.

Spencer has seen all manner of terrible things. He’s seen them happen to strangers, friends, he’s been the one under the spotlight more than once. But he finds himself wholly unprepared to watch you wince as you hop up onto the back of the ambulance, legs dangling over the edge, arm still cradled protectively close to your chest. You flinch almost violently when the paramedic approaches you with outstretched hands which, in turn, only makes you hiss in pain. Your apology is small, quiet, sheepish. Everything he knows you not to be, which only makes him feel that much worse about being the reason you’re in this position in the first place. He’s not, the little logical voice in his brain tells him it was the fall you took, but he’s the one who offered to help you up. Can’t take that back.

“Do you have to?” You’re arguing with the paramedic when his brain checks back in to the conversation.

A sling has been placed by the open medical bag beside you, but it’s the object next to it that has your eyes wider than dinner plates. A needle, carefully sealed in its little package, ready and waiting to give you the pain relief that all three of you know you’re in desperate need of. There’s no way your shoulder can be reset here without it.

“You look at dead bodies all day, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of this?” The paramedic means well, he knows she does, but the grating sound of the sterile packaging being ripped open only serves to shrink you away from it even further.

“Phobias are rarely rational. In fact, the dictionary definition refers to one as being an extreme or irrational fear of, or aversion to, something. Phobias relating to medical procedures are pretty common actually.”

The barely hidden eye roll he gets from the paramedic would suggest he’s not helping the situation, but it’s the look that you give him. The one he gets across coroner slabs and conference tables and crime scenes, that tells him he is.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to, considering this is kind of my fault,” Spencer holds his hand up between you, wiggling his fingers in front of a sad little smile, “But squeeze away.”

“I don’t know, I might break it.” You’re going for a light-hearted joke, but your gritted teeth pay you no favours.

“Then we’ll call it even.”

You take his hand, and he wonders if he’ll need to ask the paramedic to break out the defibrillator next – judging by the way his heart stutters in his chest.

And, to your credit, you only almost break it. The first squeeze is tight, muscles in your forearm trembling as the needle plunges deep into your shoulder. It won’t be enough to completely numb you, the paramedic confirms, but it’ll go a fair way towards dulling the pain. You should really go to a hospital, a bodge job in the back of an ambulance isn’t exactly Bureau protocol, but he knows that isn’t happening. God forbid you ever get shot, he’s sure that getting you treated properly for something like that would be more traumatic for you than any injury.

The second squeeze isn’t something he’s prepared for. You hang onto his hand as though your life depends on it once the paramedic has decided the painkillers have kicked in enough, though her fingers on your shoulder still have you tensing. She tells you to relax, uselessly. Instead, you turn your head away, bury it into Spencer’s shoulder, and dig your nails into the back of his hand. His knuckles crack under the pressure, synchronised popping absolutely miniscule compared to the thunderous pop your shoulder gives when the paramedic manipulates it back into place. Tears seep through his shirt as they dampen his shoulder, the tension in your jaw gives away the sob you’re biting back. You swallow it before you pull your face from the security of his warmth – brave face, as always – and dutifully allow the paramedic to tug the Kevlar vest over your head to make way for the sling she’s prepared.

You’re too on edge to really pay attention to the instructions she’s giving you, too preoccupied on slowing your heart rate to hear about the over the counter pain meds you should take, how long you need to keep the sling on. So, Spencer listens. He remembers, as he always does. He nods and tells her he’ll make sure you do everything by the book, because he knows you won’t be on your way to the doctor’s office in a hurry if your recovery doesn’t go to plan.

JJ popping up in your field of vision seems to lighten your mood, the stiffness falls away and you choke out a laugh alongside a sarcastic comment about heroics being above your paygrade. It’s fake, the laughter. Your spine is still rigid, smile a little too tight to be true. But nobody else seems to notice. They’re just glad you’re alright. Something about your rapid mood change scratches an itch in his brain, the smallest part of it that’s just a little smug. Because you don’t let on about your fear to the others. Just him.

Spencer piles into the back of the second SUV after you, behind Rossi and Emily, and takes it upon himself to make sure you’re strapped in. Admittedly, you could manage it yourself, but he doesn’t want you to. There are eyes on the back of his head when he leans over to carefully pull the seatbelt across you, when he makes sure to steer clear of your sling, but they’re easy to ignore when you’re watching him the way you are. Your quiet affirming hum follows the click of the seat belt plug when you meet his questioning gaze, calming the pounding in his chest and he doesn’t pull back right away. Involuntarily, his eyes drop to your lips for the barest of moments.

He could kiss you.

Right here, right now. In the back of the SUV, with your arm in a sling, and your colleagues watching on. He could do it. But he doesn’t.

He knows what he wants your first kiss to be like – a little pocket of his brain is dedicated to it, plays scenario after scenario in the moments before he settles down to sleep every night. Silly little bedtime stories.

Except they’re not silly, because somewhere along the way he stumbled out of his harmless little crush and into something much more serious. He knows what it is, he won’t put a name to it. Instead, he daydreams. It’s not always the same, the location varies - sometimes you’re at work, in the bullpen or the conference room, or obscured from the rest of the team by the metallic bulk of an SUV. Sometimes you’re in his apartment, in the kitchen, by the window in the living room, in the doorway of his bedroom. Sometimes it’s just a street corner, at night, at midday, dawn, dusk. But you, you’re always the same. You always look at him with a smile that could light the entire city, and he just tells you.

Spills his guts out all over the floor, every part of him left raw and vulnerable, as he tells you he loves you - has always loved you. Maybe even before he met you. He tells you how his heart stopped in his chest that first morning you walked into the BAU office, how he nearly spilled his coffee down his shirt, how his glasses steamed up with the heat from his cheeks. How Derek, JJ, Garcia, the entire team has been teasing him for literal years. How sometimes he thinks he catches you looking at him, but that’d be just too good to be true wouldn’t it?

And then your smile grows, and you take a step further into his space until there’s scarcely any room between you. That’s when you tell him you do look at him, you look at him all the time. Because you love him, just as hopelessly and desperately and effortlessly as he loves you. That’s when he kisses you. When he grasps your face in his hands and takes a deep breath of you before crashing into you with a bruising force. You take it, of course you do, just as eagerly as he pours himself into it. The kiss of a lifetime. That’s how he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of that, not now.

So, he pulls back, plugs his own seatbelt in, and lets himself wallow in the post-case stillness that settles in the car. Punctuated by Penelope’s voice through the speaker on your phone though it may be. She’s relieved, a little mad that you’d put yourself in harm’s way, but ultimately glad you’re safe. He smiles to himself at that, he can’t help but agree.

Quantico’s parking garage is dark this time of night, of course it would be, but the chill of the concrete seeps into his bones. You shiver beside him as he helps you slide out of the SUV. Goodbyes are short, sweet, exhausted. Each member of the team wandering towards their own vehicles, leaving you and Spencer standing alone under the fluorescent lights.

“Let’s get you home, superhero.” He grins at you as his hand settles gently on the small of your back, guiding you towards the street exit.

It’s not far to the train station, the streets are still busy even at this time of night. Tourists and businessmen and politicians all alike. But you don’t get jostled in the slightest, he makes sure of it - carefully weaving through the throngs to get you safely to your platform. It’s only as he steps onto the train with you that you realise his own home is in the complete opposite direction. It’s borderline unfair how fuzzy he feels at your concern for his own journey.

“I said I was getting you home, not getting you to the station.” He can’t help the fond smile that settles on his features as you look up at him from your seat. He’s chosen to stand, partially in front of you, as a sort of makeshift barrier between your injured arm and any potential commuters who might stumble into you. He holds his hand out to you expectantly and it takes you another moment to fish your keys out of your bag. They’re placed softly in his palm, your fingers barely brushing his. The touch is so gentle compared to the way you almost squeezed that same hand to death only a couple of hours earlier. He just about manages to suppress the shudder that threatens to buckle his knees, and he counts his lucky stars that your building is only a block away from the train’s destination.

The thought only occurs to Spencer when he’s halfway over the threshold of your apartment, too preoccupied with getting you back safely to realise he’s actually never been in your home before. Organised chaos is the term he’d use. The open plan kitchen and living area is tidy but cluttered, books of every genre piled on shelves with no real strategy, a haphazard stack of second hand vinyls that are mostly Tom Waits sit atop an old record player, a small collection of cacti in mismatched terracotta pots are lined up on your little kitchen windowsill. The cupboards are a deep green, which should really be at odds with the peach tinged wash on the walls, but the combination is just soft enough to work. It’s very you.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to stay.”

Your name leaves his lips in the same tone it usually does before he can stop it, the same heavy sigh that wraps around the letters more often than not. God, you know exactly how to push his buttons, even when you don’t mean to. You’re missing the point entirely – he wants to take care of you. It’s so rare that you let him.

“Nice try,” He says as he sets your work bag down on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table, “Get changed, I’ll fix up some dinner.”

“You will?” The teasing grin on your face is either because you don’t think he can cook, or because you can’t. He’s leaning towards the former.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.”

You stand there for another long few seconds, just watching him. It’s not dissimilar to the look you gave him at the ambulance, in the SUV, on the train home. Like there’s something you’re desperate to say to him; only, you’re not sure how to say it. So you turn on your heel and close the bedroom door behind you.

Spencer physically has to shake off the weight of your gaze before he can move again, even after you’re gone. His own bag finds its place beside yours, jacket folded and draped neatly over the back of the metal chair. It’s the kind of dining set he’d expect to see outside a Parisian cafe, as opposed to being tucked in the corner of a DC apartment. Chipped white metalwork and all, probably originally a garden set, but it fits the eclectic thrift store vibe you’ve curated throughout the space. He finds himself drifting towards your overstuffed bookshelf, to the beat up record player and the pile of albums - the protective sleeve of each one shabbier than the last. He’d been right at first glance, the collection is mostly second-hand Tom Waits albums - with a little Queen, The Magnetic Fields, and Fleetwood Mac in the mix. The album on top is the most dog-eared, and he doesn’t have to employ a single one of his profiling skills to know this one is the most loved, most played, and he’s sure you’ll appreciate the comfort of some background noise. So he’s concentrating on sliding the record out of the sleeve, carefully placing it onto the turntable, and setting the needle down.

The bluesy first bars of Tom Waits’ Heartattack and Vine fill the room at the same time you open the bedroom door, looking more than a little sorry for yourself. And, to his credit, Spencer does a pretty good job of not laughing at the picture of you in the open doorway.

You’ve got yourself tangled up, all wrinkled shirtsleeves and oozing embarrassment - one sleeve dangles empty by your side where the other is still firmly encased by the sling, your sole free arm pokes out of the bottom of your sweater. Your eyebrows are drawn as you look everywhere but at him.

“Can you…?” You trail off. A breath pushes its way out of your lungs, half-sigh and half-helpless laugh.

“Come on.” He erases the distance between you in two strides, hands turning you at the waist before he can even really think about what he’s doing. You shuffle into the room ahead of him, soft rug shielding your socked feet from the cold of the wooden floor. He’s pleased to find the same decorative tastes extend through to your bedroom.

Another bookshelf, also stuffed to the brim with enough material to start your own bookstore. A little wooden desk by the window paired with a chair that doesn’t match, the wall to the right of it is plastered in multicoloured post it notes - a few of them catch his eye, reminders and ideas and shopping lists. Your bedspread is the same dark green as your kitchen cabinets, although it’s mostly obscured by a mess of patchwork blankets and jewel toned decorative pillows. Your sunshine plush has pride of place balanced against the left-hand bedpost on top of the headboard. Even without an eidetic memory, he’d remember the look on your face when he won it for you. Undercover at a travelling carnival in Oregon, the job at hand was to lure out an Unsub whose tastes fit you to a T, but he’d been uncharacteristically powerless to resist at least trying to get something for you. Your cover was a couple, anyway. He’d only been in character. Not only do you still have it, but it has pride of place, and something about it has his pride rearing its head.

You’re fussing with your pyjamas, a threadbare hoodie and garishly patterned sweatpants, when he turns his attention back to you. The reality of the situation seems to hit you both in the same moment.

Spencer is going to have to undress you.

It’s not how he imagined it would be - and that is definitely not something he needs to think about right now. He could keep his eyes closed? Although not being able to see where he should put his hands is arguably more dangerous than it would be to pay attention. He has to clear his throat before he can find his voice.

“I’m going to have to take this off,” He gestures to the sling, hoping he sounds less noticeably wrecked to you than he does to himself, “But we’ll go slow, okay?”

It’s cruel, is what it is, to watch you nod your agreement, to witness your unshakeable trust that he won’t hurt you so closely. Ultimately, it’s not overly different to the way he checks over your protective vest. There’s a strategy, a system to it just the same as the task that lies ahead, and he’ll follow it step by scientific step.

The sling is first, straps carefully undone and the support sliding off your arm - you both support it, your elbow in his palm where yours settles under your wrist. The one free hand you have between you, Spencer’s, works your shirt up over your uninjured shoulder and tugs it over your head. His eyes never drift beyond what you’ve asked of him, though it isn’t for lack of temptation. He slides the remaining sleeve off of your injured arm with a touch so light that neither of you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the skim of his fingers over your bare skin. Your hoodie replaces your work shirt just as carefully, in reverse. Injured arm first, head, uninjured arm. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he concentrates on looping the sling over the thick cotton, securing your arm tight to your chest again. Job done, and without too much embarrassment. He’d call that a success.

“Would you mind-” You struggle for a moment, “The clasp is fiddly.”

Spencer doesn’t know what you mean at first, and then it clicks - and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You need him to undo your trousers. He can do that, he can do it. He might feel like he’s about to spontaneously combust over the request, but he can do it.

There’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for you, to tell the truth.

It takes him longer than it should to slip the hook out of its clasp, usually nimble fingers fumbling under the weight of both of your gazes. But he doesn’t stop there. Because his usually brilliant mind is buzzing with static and his hands are moving of their own accord and the teeth of the zip on your trousers as he pulls it down is loud.

Spencer pulls back like he’s been shocked, while your eyes remain firmly glued to his hands. Hands that now wring themselves with anxiety as he quietly asks if you can manage the rest. You don’t respond verbally - it takes another long second, but you start shimmying the trousers off of your hips with your free hand. The slightest glimpse of bare thigh has him spinning on his heel and marching towards the kitchen in search of food.

He’s not thinking about the soft material of your sweatpants being pulled carefully over your legs in the other room, as he roots around in your kitchen cupboards. He’s not. A can of chopped tomatoes, a handful of half-empty spice jars, just about enough dry spaghetti for two. It’ll do. A pot of water is set on the stove to boil, the noise is enough of a distraction when the bedroom door opens again behind him. You shuffle about for a few minutes, digging around your shelves and Tom Waits’ gravelly tone cuts off abruptly to be replaced by the softer voice of Stevie Nicks instead. The volume ticks down a couple of notches before you join Spencer in the kitchen as he warms the tomatoes and spices alongside the boiling noodles, moving around him with the same ease you do in the office. You pull out two bowls that don’t match - one is shallower and wider and glazed a sunshine yellow, there’s a chip in the lip of it. The other one is smaller, deeper, glazed navy blue instead and with a cheeky face etched into the pottery. Its nose protrudes slightly, rounded out on one side. He can’t help his smile when he dishes out two equal portions and the red sauce drips down onto the bowl’s nose. He swipes at the mess with his thumb before handing you the bowl.

“Thank you.” You search out his gaze this time, urging him to look you in the eye. For cooking, or what he’s sure is your favourite bowl, or staying. He’s not sure. He wants to tell you that you don’t have to thank him, he’d drop anything and everything at any moment if you needed him to. But something in your eyes has stolen his voice, a flicker of something he’s far too terrified to acknowledge. So he only smiles, takes the yellow dish in his hands, and follows you to the comfort of your vintage floral couch.

It’s not a table dinner kind of evening, you seem to have decided. Although the precarious balance of the bowl on your knees suggests otherwise, as you try to eat one handed. Spencer leans forward to pull the cushion from behind his back, his own dinner temporarily abandoned on the floor in front of him, and he picks up your bowl to slide the cushion across your lap in lieu of a tray. Your laugh is quiet, you don’t look at him, but whatever tension had built in the bedroom dissipates with the sound.

Even so, he shoots off a text to Penelope while you’re preoccupied with your spaghetti, asks if she can lend you a helping hand for the next few days if you need one. You shouldn’t need the sling for more than a week anyway. She responds with a smiley face and a kiss almost immediately. It’s not the first time in his life he’s thanked whatever mystical force is responsible for Penelope Garcia.

Spencer will corral you to the doctor’s office for a checkup in a few days, he’ll make sure you do your stretches, he’ll set alarms for your painkillers. And, ultimately, he’ll come back if you ask him to. He’ll help you in and out of your pyjamas if that’s what you want, of course he will.

Regardless of the way it sets his insides aflame. He’ll do it for you.

yes i know reader inserts are blank slates yes this apartment is basically just my own flat no i don’t care thank u🧡🧡

[ginkgo-phyta]

I'm back again 😅

Hopefully, I'm not the only person with this opinion, but how do you think Spencer would react if his significant other told him that they thought he looked hot with his bulletproof vest on? 👀

omg is this injured spencer request anon?? I NEED TO KNOW im so sorry if it's not tho, whoever you are thank you so much for coming back!! i love you with all my heart you should use a special emoji as like ur own lil signature! :D

okay so i wanted to try blurb(?) format but mmm okay not really cuz just a wall of text was stressing me out but this is def more informal than my other work (look no capital letters!) and because i love you so much i present two scenarios for you :P... i cant fight this feeling anymore guys he rlly is so hot in his vest im becoming my most feral self grrrrr RAH RAH ALRIGHT hope you enjoy, my love!

OKAY SO SPENCER REACTING TO YOU TELING HIM HE'S HOT IN HIS FBI VEST gn! reader, fluff, second scenario a little steamy in tone but nothing explicit just h*rny vibes, no other warnings

if you weren't a profiler: you'd never thought about it before- spencer in his bulletproof vest. sure, you knew that his job required him to go into sticky situations where the prospect of gunfire was imminent and he would have to wear proper equipment, but you never put two nd two together. you never even thought of a kevlar vest as something that could be hot...until you saw a picture of him wearing it.

"what the hell is that." you blurt out, voice serious with hints of concern.

"huh?" spencer's as clueless as ever, a little worried about your reaction. he was just showing you random photos his team members had taken over the years, all printed out for easy viewing courtesy of the ever-so-accommodating penolope garcia. someone had taken a pic of a beautiful lake where the bau had saved yet another victim, the sun dipping below the horizon line of pine trees, painting the sky purple and pink. "um...the sunset?" spencer was confused, "i guess maybe it was kinda a weird time to take a photo, but no one was hurt and we caught the unsub and the sky really did look-"

you cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, eyes never leaving the photo in front of you, "no, no...what's that." you point to what you were talking about, a figure standing off to the side.

spencer takes a minute, becoming even more bewildered "...me?" in that moment your world changed.

"oh my god... "you whispered in a daze, firmly pulling the picture out of spencer's fingers and into your own, "what...what are you wearing?"

"honey what's wrong? it's just my bulletproof vest. i know it might look a little funny, but it, y'know, keeps me alive..." he scratches the back of his neck. a couple seconds of silence pass, but to spencer it feels excruciatingly long.

"spencer," you look at up at him deadpan "you look so fucking hot." to say your boyfriend was shocked would be an understatement.

he was absolutely blown away by your response, so much so that the way his face contorted looked borderline disgusted. "wha-what?? huh? what?" he clamored, eyes flitting over your face to find any sign you were joking.

"seriously, baby, you look so good. oh, my God!!" you almost shriek, gripping the picture tighter, the widest, dumbest grin pulling up your cheeks as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

spencer smiles at your reaction, still a little perplexed "you really think so?" the notion begins to sink into his bones, making him giddy.

you very enthusiastically nod your head, "are there any more pictures of you like this?" you rip the rest of the photos out of spencer's hands, scouring through them at light speed. out of nowhere, spencer laughs out loud, his nose scrunching in delight.

"i...don't know what to say. i'm flattered you think that," a wonderful blush shimmers over his cheeks, "but no i don't think there are. sadly." he playfully adds.

you stop all movements, slowly turning towards him, suspiciously calm. "well then," you grab your phone and suddenly stand up "looks like i'll just have to ask penelope for some!"

"wait! wait, no!" spencer calls after you as you start speed-walking away, your shirt barely escaping his fingertips. he yells out your name, his serious tone interrupted by a giggle of his own as he begins chasing you, "get back here!" he knows: garcia can never ever find out about this...

if you were a profiler: you had seen spencer don his FBI branded bulletproof vest hundreds of times over the years. although you had pined over him for years and were now finally in a relationship with him, seeing him like that didn't make you feel any type of way really. sure, you thought he looked strong and handsome, but most of the time you were too caught up in the case or situation at hand to focus on how he looked. until now. something had shifted in him in the last few months, not just with his ever-changing haircut, but within the way he held himself; more confident, more sure of himself, even more cocky, if you will. whatever it was, it drew your eyes to him in his tight little vest like a lightbulb draws in moths- instantly and continuously. it all came to a head when you caught the unsub responsible for drowning and resuscitating his victims until they couldn't be brought back to life. spencer dove into the lake with emily to apprehend the killer while you had helped the kid he had hostage reunite with his mother. you smiled at the scene in front of you, the teenager running into his mother's shaking arms, her holding him close in a tight embrace. another good ending, you thought to yourself before turning back to watch your fellow profilers make the arrest. suddenly, you mouth goes dry. there spencer reid stood; soaking wet, clothes sticking to his skin, chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his hand pushing his wet hair out of his face. and that stupid, goddamn kevlar vest. oh, fuck. the others walked away from the dock to situate everyone and themselves in respected vehicles that sat back on the road a few hundred feet away from where you currently were. as spencer moved to follow behind emily, hands trying to flick the water off of him, your gaze stopped him in his tracks. he stood there, a bit confused as to why you were walking towards him, seemingly entranced, instead of beelining behind everyone else.

he spoke out your name, but you remained silent, stopping just a couple feet away from him. you took him in one more time: the way his shirt became translucent, granting you with peeks of his skin; his sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms; the way his soaked pants choked his thick thighs. you became woozy with desire. spencer watched as your eyes dragged over his figure, drinking in every inch of his dripping body. "oh, baby..." you voice drawled out as soon as your gaze landed on his bulletproof vest, "you're absolutely soaking wet." spencer's eyebrows shot up his forehead at the suggestive twinkle in your timbre. you approached him further, chest just inches away from his. if he wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, he would have been a bit more cautious of lingering teammates. your hands came up to ghost over his vest, "did i ever tell you how good i think you look in this?" you looked up at him through your lashes.

spencer chuckled, "in the bulletproof vest?" you nodded in response, but spencer still couldn't really believe it. "uh, no, actually, you haven't." his eyes glinted at the way you bit your lip, his hands moving on their own accord to rest on your hips. you could feel droplets of water seep into the material and lick your skin, but you didn't give a rat's ass.

"well, you do." you whisper, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips, "really, really good." your mouth moves enticingly with his.

"oh? is that so?" he whispers against your lips, diving back in, his fingers digging in your hips. he graciously kisses you for a moment before it dawns on him that you're both still at work- in an active crime scene, at that. "mmh, mmh!" he vocalizes between kisses as he tries to move his head back a smidge. his eyes peak open just enough to see if anyone else was around. your lips are addicting, rendering him unable to fully tell you to stop, unable to fully pull away himself. he's relieved when he spots no one. still, he know this is far from appropriate. spencer's hands move up your body to wrap around your wrists behind him, pulling them away from him and the same time he pulled away from you, "okay, okay!" he breathes out with a chuckle, "i believe you now" he tries to catch his bearings, but your pouting face causes him to laugh again

"spencerrrr," you groan at the loss of your beloved's kisses and he turns you around and pushes you towards the spot where the others vanished, walking behind you with his hands on your shoulders, your body held at an arm's distance.

"let's go, angel." his words brought out a hmph! from you. "we can do more of that later at home" he whispers, leaning in ever-so-slightly.

you turn your head back to get a glimpse of him, your eyes and smile equally wide with excitement, "can you bring the vest with you?!"

A/N: OKAYYYY lemme stop myself before things get filthy LOL do yall know which episode im referring to in the second scenario? that end scene will always get me my eye are GLUED to spencer the entire time GODDAMN. okay anyway i hope you liked this anon!!! pls tell me yalls thoughts <3

[thewulf]

Sir || Aaron Hotchner

Request: Do you think you could do a Hotch x ADHD reader where they are energetic and talkative all day since Aaron came back from a tough case. With the constant questions and comments Aaron gets irritated due to stress and says something like “can you be quiet for 5 seconds please” or “enough with the stupid questions, it’s annoying” and the reader ends up talking less with him and only responds with short answers and they try to suppress their ADHD ticks around him.

A/N: Well, I couldn't sleep on the plane home yesterday and I found a surge of inspo! Had so much fun writing this one. I just adore Hotch! Thanks for the request! @ghostridrr

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k +

You’d never expected to be dating an FBI agent nonetheless fall hopelessly head over heels for the guy in a matter of months. Coming from humble beginnings in a small southern town. Not many people made it out, but you did. You were determined. Determined to get the hell out and never look back. So, you did. You made it happen. Working your ass off through college becoming a civil engineer and finding a job at a firm in Washington DC you quickly found your groove. You worked your way up from an engineer to a manager to a project manager within ten years. Loving your job meant giving your all which didn’t leave much time for your personal life nor a love life. It’s not like you hadn’t tried you were just busy.

 It all hit you on your birthday that you wanted more. You wanted a partner. You wanted to have a life with somebody. For years you put in effort to try. Dating good guys and shitty ones alike. You were about to give it up for good after the years of trying. But the universe had a different plan for you.

It all started so casually on a sunny Monday morning at Quantico. Your firm had been contracted out to completely renovate the old Quantico offices and bring them into the 21st century. You’d absolutely fallen in love with your job, the project manager, over the course of the six months. Between working with the clients, budgeting, staging, and executing the demo and construction you’d found loved. It was the perfect job that kept your busy brain occupied and constantly moving. Always showing up to work with a big cheesy smile on your face and ending the day with an inevitable streak of dirt across your shirt or jeans.

Everything went so smoothly until your crew moved up to the sixth floor. The BAU. Whatever the hell that is. Apparently, nobody had warned the boss man and he wasn’t too thrilled to say the least. You were used to working around the residents of the floor, but this wasn’t starting out to great considering your crew would be working on the floor for the next few months.

“What the hell is all this? Why is there tarp in my conference room?” A strong voice broke you from the planning board you were reviewing with your construction Forman, Eric.

Snapping your head around you made eye contact with possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Of fucking course he had to be hot as hell. This was certainly going to make things way more interesting for you.

Putting on your best smile you slowly walked over to him, hardhat and high visibility vest and all, “I’m so sorry sir. I thought somebody from your leadership would’ve informed you. My crew is starting some demo and renovations on this floor today. We’ll do our best to keep the noise down, but we might have to kick you out of a few spots every now and then.” Trying your best to charm the man with a big smile you only felt intimated when he simply just looked at you. As if he was studying you. Not frowning, not smiling, stoic as hell. You involuntarily took a step back. Intimidating the hell out of you.

He must’ve picked up on your discomfort as his straight-faced gaze softened ever so slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose as you cocked your head to the side observing him. He must’ve been choosing his words very carefully.

“I don’t have time for this today. I’m sorry.” He sighed in clear frustration. A real frustration you’d seen time and time again on the job.

You frowned. Annoyed at his leadership for failing to tell him you were about to ruin his next few months as your crew worked through the floor. You had to think quick. This was your job after all, “I’ll tell you what sir. We’ll start over on those conference rooms this week. Hopefully that gives you time to sort it out?” You pointed to the rooms on the other side of the office, not the large one his team clearly needed.

He gave you a curt nod. His gaze almost fully softening as you tried to compromise with him still with a genuine smile on your face. Even he had to admit that smile was breaking him down far faster than he would’ve thought possible. He had yet to even look at a woman since Haley’s death, that was years ago now. It freaked him out a little. He’d been so fine on his own. Figuring out a good routine with Jack and Jess. Getting too complacent. He knew it wasn’t fair to Jack. Especially since he was getting to an age where a mom was crucial. Jack needed somebody to lean on and it certainly wasn’t fair to Jess to pick that up.

“It won’t mess your plans up?” The handsome stranger asked you. Your smile grew as you knew he was going to be willing to work with you. More often than not you’d have to get into with whomever was arguing back with you, often the government trying to shut you down. But you knew better. You always had all the permits you needed and knew the rule book like the back of your hand. That’s why you excelled. You never let anybody get the better of you. ADHD was a curse and a blessing at the same damn time.

Shaking your head you continued, “Not at all! That’s construction. You plan, and then it changes 45 times before you actually start. It’s no big deal at all. Really.” You tried to reassure him. He looked embarrassed that he was so upset only a few moments prior. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. You knew you had at least two months of face to face with the guy. Starting off on the wrong foot was the worst thing you and the crew could do.

“I’m sorry. If you wouldn’t mind. We have a crucial case involving some kids…” He stopped himself before he divulged too much. He didn’t want you to get kicked out on his own accord. He knew you only had a clearance to enter the building. Nothing more, nothing less. He wouldn’t risk that at your stake.

“No explanations necessary sir. We’ll find a better day to demo.” You never dropped your smile as you maintained eye contact with him. You found that making sure to look whomever in the eyes always met you with better than looking around, looking scared.

“Aaron. Sir is too formal. Aaron Hotchner. My team, whenever they get here, will call me Hotch. Call me whatever.” He stuck his hand out for you to take. Gently you set your hand in his. You’d always been taught to go for the death grip when shaking hands. It established dominance or some bullshit like that. Especially since you were a woman in such a male dominated field. Working in a man’s world was exhausting. But something struck you as different with the man. So gentle it was.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m Y/N.” He shook your hand just as gently as you set your hand in his. You weren’t sure if he felt the pull that you felt but you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“It’s nice to meet you to Y/N.” The handshake when on for a little too long. You were positive Eric was going to give you hell for this when you walked back over, “And again, I’m sorry for the outburst. These cases get stressful.”

You laughed a giggle that shouldn’t have come out of your mouth at work. His stoic expression tweaked into a soft smile after hearing your laugh, “Believe me when I say that was tame. The yelling matches I’ve gotten in with men twice my age are too plentiful to count.”

He laughed this time finally dropping your hand, gently of course, “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

You shrugged, “Part of the job. Plus, it’s fun to yell back sometimes.” His small smile grew into a much larger one, eyes crinkling and all. You’d done it. You’d charmed him.

“Hotch!” A female voice came yelling out of the conference room, “Round table, let’s go.” The pretty blonde-haired lady smirked at him before turning back to the room. The two of you failed to see his team file in during the conversation.

He broke his gaze turning around to see his agent vanishing from the doorway, “Got to go. Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

You nodded your head, “Likewise Aaron.”

The rest was literally history. He ended up bringing you some sort of coffee or baked good every morning he was in the office, which you learned very quickly wasn’t all that often. He and his team seemed to be away more than they were actually there. You took advantage of that and fixed their office spaces and conferences rooms right as they left for their trips. You’d check in with Penny to make sure you weren’t in the way when they got back.

Small chit chats in the morning turned to lunch “dates” as Eric so kindly called them. You’d refused to call them as such, not ever truly able to gauge whether he was actually interested in you or not. You tried to make it as blatantly obvious as possible, but he was Aaron. Calm, cool and collected. The two of you had even been the butt of office jokes as you got closer. You didn’t seem to care though. It felt too good with him to give whatever you had up.

Lucky for you those lunch dates turned to dinner dates and before you knew it you were meeting Jack and spending time at his place. Weeks turned to months, and you were spending almost every night at the Hotchner’s. You and Jack were getting along as thick as thieves. Aaron even trusting you to watch him while he was gone. You made Jack promise not to tell his daddy that you gave him ice cream almost every night. It was a secret between the two of you.

Jack was off on a summer camp, and you’d just wrapped up the Quantico project leaving you far too bored sitting at Aaron’s place. So, you did what you always did when you had nothing to do. You cranked up the music and started cleaning. It was a Tuesday morning, and you really weren’t expecting Aaron to get back from his case. It was a long one out in Colorado. He never gave you the specifics, but he sounded horribly upset each night when he was on the phone with you. Distracted and distraught.

You hadn’t heard the door open and close as you were upstairs cleaning. But when your music abruptly stopped you hightailed it downstairs to get it going again. To your surprise your boyfriend was standing at the kitchen island rubbing his temples. You should’ve known there that he wasn’t going to be in the best of moods.

“Hon.” You grinned ear to ear seeing him standing there, “Your home! How was the trip? Happy to be home? I missed you tons. Especially with Jack being gone, I haven’t had anybody to talk to.” You wrapped your arms around his front, hugging him from behind. You were usually really good at picking up on social cues, but you must’ve been too damn excited to see him to pick up on his mood.

“Y/N.” He gave you a half smile before squeezing your hands tightly but gently. Like he was afraid of losing you.

“Aaron.” You let go of him brushing the now overgrown hair out of his face, “Are you alright? Was the trip okay? I just missed you so much. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad. I’ve really gotten used to having Jack around. I wish you didn’t have to go so often.” You admitted.

He sighed a deep one, “It was a tough case.” Was all he gave you. You should’ve known there that he wasn’t going to give you much else. But your stupid ass brain decided to ignore the cues. It wasn’t really your fault that it bounced around so quickly. You’d even taken your meds today. It was something about Aaron that seemed to break anything those meds were holding back.

“Want to talk about it? I know you never do but it could be good for you. You know? It’s not great to hold that kind of stuff in. It’ll eat away at you.” You just wanted him to be the Aaron you knew. Not the ball of stress standing before you.

He shook his head, “Not this time.”

“You sure? You look upset hon. I don’t like to see you like that.” You continued not noticing him closing his eyes. Surely more than irritated with you at the moment. But were you going to catch that? Nope.

“Positive.”

You nodded, “Alright. If you say so. Are you hungry? I can whip you up some lunch…”

He interrupted you before you could go on whatever long winded rant you had built up, “Y/N, can you be quiet for five seconds please? I’m trying to think.” You were turned away from him and didn’t see the immediate regret that washed over his face. He didn’t really mean it he just needed you to stop for a moment. He wasn’t expecting you to be home and wasn’t ready for the bombardment of questions. After cases that involved so many deaths it took him a moment to come back around. He needed a second to himself. The job was hard and you knew that.

And with that you felt your heart deflate right then and there. The smile that hadn’t dropped since he came home immediately vanished without a trace. Your happy eyes immediately dropping and filling with hot, wet tears that desperately wanted to spill over. You’d been with him for almost half a year and that had yet to come out of his mouth. It took you by surprise, to say the least.

“I’m so sorry.” You squeaked out before walking out of the kitchen hastily. You weren’t good with conflict. Always running away from it.

He knew he fucked up. You weren’t overly sensitive, but he knew what he said was over the line. Especially since you were simply trying to help him. But he also needed that moment. So, he shamefully let you sit upstairs with your thoughts. You had an issue of letting things ruminate in your head for far too long.

Letting the tears fall you continued to clean the bathroom in silence. Why were you like this? As soon as you got comfortable with someone you seemed to ruin it with your dumb ass brain. You should’ve known he was exhausted. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks. Cases never ended well when he was gone for over a week let alone two. You should’ve backed off the second he started giving you short answers. Stupid stupid brain ruining everything.

Once you finished you thought it best to spend some time back at your own apartment. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him into breaking up with you. Tip towing downstairs you found him asleep on the couch. Biting your lip, you scribbled a note letting him know you went home making a dumb excuse that your friend needed you. As much as you wanted to spend the night with him, he clearly needed it alone.

It wasn’t long after you got home that your phone buzzed. Looking down you saw Aaron was calling. Deciding it best to give him space you decided not to pick up. When it rang for a second time you answered, “Hey.” Why were those stupid tears threatening to spill again?

“Sweetheart where are you?”

You frowned, “Home. Emma needed some help with a dress.” You partially lied. Your friend Emma really did need help hemming her dress, something you were oddly good at. But she wasn’t coming over until the weekend.

“Oh, are you coming back after? We can make Spaghetti, your favorite.” You knew this was his attempt to apologize. Quickly realizing in the relationship that Aaron was a quality time kind of guy, his true love language.

Should you? You weren’t feeling great about the whole thing and a night away might make the heart grow fonder, “I don’t think so Aaron. I’m tired and she’ll be over for a while.” Another lie. You hated doing this to him but you just couldn’t confront it head on. It just wasn’t something you were ready for.

“Oh, okay.” He sounded sad. It made your heart lurch just thinking about it, “Come over tomorrow after work?”

“Yeah, sure.” You knew you were being short with him but God, you just didn’t want to annoy him. A specialty you’d seemed to master.

“Everything alright sweetheart?”

Everything was not alright, “Yeah, just a bit tired. I should get going, she’s almost here.” You hardly heard the confirmation on the other end of the phone before you hung up on him.

You didn’t sleep well nor work great the next morning. Aarons comments ringing in your ears over and over again. When it came time to go home you took his route home. Knowing you had to confront this at some point. Aaron would make you. He always did. As bad as he was with words, he always made sure to talk things out.

Somehow, his black SUV was parked in the driveway. You had an inkling feeling he was going to beat you home no matter what. He might’ve even taken the day off today. Walking through the front door you found Aaron in the kitchen cutting up some tomatoes.

“Sweetheart.” He smiled while dropping the knife and walking over to you. Wrapping you in a tight hug he made sure to give you an extra squeeze. He was a profiler after all, he knew something was amiss.

“Hi.” You mumbled in his chest. Breathing him in completely you let your eyes close as you leaned into him. He was clearly trying to make it up to you now, might as well let him.

“Have a good day?” He asked while prying you away from his chest.

Shaking your head you decided to answer honestly. The little white lies you told yesterday making you feel gross, “No, not really.” Yawning you leaned your head back into his chest.

He starting brushing through your hair with his fingers having an inkling as to why, but he needed to know for sure. He hated hurting you. You were nothing but sweet to him and he returned it by snapping at you? He’d done it to Jack as well. He knew it was something he needed to work on even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“And why’s that?” He asked softly making sure not to startle you.

“Didn’t sleep great. Then my boss decided to put me on the worst project. Pipes.” You sighed. It wasn’t an attack on you, every project manager had to have a hellish utility job. You were just next on the list. It couldn’t have come at a worse time though. Pipe work meant constant oversight, and anything could shut the project down. Tedious and annoying but necessary, you knew it.

“I’m sorry honey.” He confined brushing through your hair.

“It’s fine.” You signed closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat. You weren’t in the mood to talk which was strange for you. You always wanted to talk. To dive a little deeper. Understand him a bit more. But you weren’t feeling it. Was it actually your mood or were you just terribly self-conscious now? You refused to ask that question as you shoved it to the back of your mind.

“You sure it’s fine? You’re awfully quiet. I miss my chatty girl.” He knew he needed to apologize. He should’ve just spit it out already. But he wanted to see if he could see if it was anything more. He’d never seen you so down and out. You were always there with a smile and seeing you so sad had him worried. Had he done that to you? Did you not sleep because of him?

You nodded into his chest, “Yeah, ‘M just…” You paused. Was it really worth not telling the whole truth? Aaron would figure it out. He probably already had. He was doing that profiler shit on you now. As annoying as it was you grew to love it. It was him. You loved him. Everything about the man intrigued you, “Tired.” You finished. Not the whole truth and you knew it.

“Honey.” He kept brushing through your hair knowing how much it calmed you.

Feeling a little surge of bravery, you looked up to him, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dismiss you yesterday.” He paused giving you a brief kiss on your forehead but not giving you enough time to respond before he continued, “I love all your questions. I really do. It’s just this last case was rough. And I know that’s no excuse to treat you like that. It’s just… this guy. He targeted women that looked just like you. It’s been an awful two weeks. I just miss you. Please stay?”

“Oh Aaron,” You frowned but squeezed him tightly, “I’m so sorry. If I had known…”

“I should’ve told you. Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing.” He kissed your forehead again holding it there. Just holding you in his arms.

Feeling so safe and secured in his arms made you feel every emotion all at once. Thrilled that he still felt the same about you. Embarrassed you took it so personally. Scared you would mess this up. So in love with the guy who recognized so easily what was bothering you. It was all too much for you. You couldn’t try to stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks even if you tried.

Aaron pried you away from him taking your head in his hands. Softly he wiped away the tears with his thumbs with a sad look on his face, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” His eyes searched your face for anything. His heart breaking just a little more seeing your hurt expression across ever feature.

Nodding, that’s all you could do. Absolutely you accepted his apology. He was so sincere with it you know he meant everything with his entire heart, “It’s okay.” You managed to choke out between breaths. After a moment the tears finally stopped. You’d normally be horrified by the sudden outburst but with him you weren’t. You knew he had you.

“It’s really not. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He assured you wiping away the final tears.

“Thank you, Aaron.”

He pulled you back into him, “I’m not perfect but I promise you I’ll try.”

“I know that.” You beamed up at him. You felt so much better. Words always helped, running away never did.

“I love you, my dear.” He smiled down at you while rocking you back in forth in his arms.

“And you know, I love you too.”

Taglist: @twilightlover2007 @morgthemagpie @ashie-babie @buckybarnessweetheart @wendy234678 @adhdannieedison @emilykolchivans @aurabambi @pipecleanerweyesfp @simp4f1 @ghostridrr @sunflowers-4

[sweatervest-obsessed]

You

pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.8k

cw: oh death babes, depression, mentions of drugs, mentions of ODs, gun violence, blood, four out of the five stages of grief (there’s no acceptance here)

a/n: Guys, I was feeling something, and spewed this out. Enjoy the pure grief and pain I just poured out onto a page. Also spot the little references throughout hehe. 

Spencer Reid Masterlist

“Spence, you did everything you could. It’s not your fault.” 

He shook his head and pressed you up against his chest, ignoring the blood seeping into his pants, his vest, his hands. 

“You can’t—hey, hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, please.” His voice cracked on his plea as the two of you crumpled to the ground. He screamed out for a medic as he cradled your body against him. 

Your eyes floated in and out of consciousness, focusing on him when they could. “We knew this was going to happen eventually.”

“N-No.”

“I-I…I love you…” Your chest heaved up and down. 

“Stop it. Stop.” 

“So….much….” 

Spencer just shook his head and yelled at his team to do something, but they all stood back, none of them wanting to ruin the goodbye he never got to say. 

Spencer snapped into focus, realizing he was sitting on the jet, staring out the window. There was no one sitting next to him, they had all taken the physical seats, leaving him to the couch. And while this was nothing out of the norm, the only difference was that you weren’t sitting on the couch facing back at him. 

Spencer was alone, in his head, and on the couch. 

Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n passed away on May 17th, at the young age of thirty. She had been an agent of the FBI for over seven years, and a member of the BAU for almost five. She had become an integral part of the FBI and was a valued member of the BAU. She was survived by her fiancé Doctor Spencer Reid, her mother and father, her younger brother and sister, as well as two nieces and one nephew. 

Spencer thought about you every single day. 

He would think about you when he went to make his coffee, adding a scoop of sugar since that’s how you took yours. He thought about you when he took the train into work, listening to songs that you loved, over and over and over. He thought about you when he would sit alone on the jet, trying to ignore all of the pitiful stares as everyone tried not to take your spot on the couch. 

He liked to replay your death over and over and over, making it so that he was in the other car, he was onsight to say goodbye to you. 

Derek told him that you waited for as long as you could. 

Spencer didn’t know if that was comforting, knowing you willingly suffered longer than you needed to, just to see him one last time. But it was in vain since you died two minutes and forty-seven seconds before the car arrived. 

In his head, he was the one who held you, who told you how much you were loved and adored, and maybe that could’ve made you stay. 

It wasn’t Derek holding you as you choked on your own blood, watching you struggle to survive long enough. It wasn’t Derek holding you telling you to breathe and just let go. It wasn’t Derek being the last person to hear your voice. 

Tell him that I’m s-so sorry, and I-I...love him...so. Much.

Spencer realized about a month after the funeral, that he never saw your wedding dress. You were about seven months away from your wedding when you died, but you had been engaged for over a year. 

Emily, Penelope, and JJ have the pictures, but he couldn’t bring himself to see you in something that was supposed to signify your forever, when instead it was cut short by an ambush and the carelessness of the local cops. 

Apparently, it was perfect. But Spencer didn’t have perfect. He wasn’t lucky enough to have perfect. He wasn’t privileged enough to even be allowed to think about perfection. 

The anger would take over after thinking about it for too long. He always found himself angry with you for leaving him—abandoning him. How selfish could you be? Spencer believed he wasn’t worthy of you, he never had. You’d always take your lunch breaks with him, so he always had someone to sit with since he told you about how he would eat alone when he was younger. Every time he’d come in with his tie crooked or his hair a mess, you would casually let him know. Eventually, when you worked up the courage to kiss him one night, you just started fixing it for him. Every morning you’d make him coffee as you both got ready for the day. You’d leave him little notes hidden in his desk, in his pillowcase, in his wallet, in his pockets.

It didn't take anything to make him think about you, but when he reached into the pocket of his jacket to find his phone as he got onto the plane, he found one. 

Hello Darling,          I hope today is a good day for you. You deserve         good things Spence. I hope you one day believe        it as much as I know it to be true     With all the love in my heart,             Future Mrs Doctor Spencer Reid P.S. you owe me the dishes tonight…

It shattered what little resolve he had left this morning, causing him to sit alone, on the couch, the note pressed against his lips as he stared out the windows of the plane. 

It was ironic that the one good thing he had left in the world was suddenly gone, and how you leaving made him feel as though he deserved nothing. The Bureau gave him a maximum of six months off--Grief Leave, they called it. But he ended up getting restless around month four, asking Hotch if he could come back periodically. That was how JJ found out that Spencer had been sleeping on the couch, unable to bring himself to sleep in a bed made for the two of you when there was only one left. 

It’s also how JJ found out that Spencer had relapsed. 

She had been the one to find him on the bathroom floor, exactly four months after your funeral. And Spencer fucking hated her for it. He couldn't stand to be stuck in your shared apartment alone, but he couldn't bring himself to just abandon the last place he held you. He kept asking JJ why she would keep the two of you apart? Two souls that were meant to forever be intertwined suddenly ripped apart. It felt like some sort of cruel joke. 

But he didn’t use after that. One and Done, as he stated to Garcia over the phone one night while at a rehab. They let him out a week and a half later since they couldn’t prove he was a harm to himself anymore.

The team would take their turns, making Spencer feel as though he was twenty-three again. They would watch him, as they felt obligated to babysit him. Made him feel more like his friendships were chores than acts of love. Spencer didn’t feel much love anymore, only pity. 

Spencer looked over as Derek cleared his throat, silently asking if he could sit down, in your spot. He nodded once, an invitation he wasn’t really in the mood to repeat. 

The plane ride was going to be a long one, six hours. And Spencer had only been overthinking everything for only one of them. 

“You found another one.” Not a question, an observation. 

Reid nodded, his gaze had shifted back to the window, the clouds, the slight rain streaking horizontally across the sky as they flew. 

 You loved the rain. It was refreshing, something cleansing. Rebirth, as you would say. 

It gives you a new beginning everytime it rains, which is extremely kind of the universe considering how many times we manage to fuck up. 

Spencer had once laughed at that, listening to you rant on about the perks and importance of rain. But now? He fucked hated it. He saw glimpses of you in every rain drop, reflecting you millions of times, and he would hear your laugh every time it thundered, taking up as much space as deserved and echoing through your now empty home.

It rained for a week straight after you died. The world weeped at the loss of your soul. Spencer couldn’t tell if it was a cruel joke from the universe, or if it was you trying to tell him to try out that whole “rebirth thing”. 

Either way, he didn’t enjoy it as much as you would have. 

“Even when she’s not…” Spencer closed his eyes and swallowed the words, still unable to say them outloud. “She still manages to, uh, render me speechless.” 

Your favorite pastime was getting Doctor Spencer Reid to become speechless. You learned how to play chess, without his knowledge, and managed to beat him the first time you played. At some point, you had learned enough Russian to go and see one of those movies he enjoyed so much, even though he knew that deep down the whole thing was not remotely in your wheelhouse. The team had never heard Spencer go as quiet as often as he did when you were around. 

Except for now. Spencer would state a fact, make an observation, point out something the team was missing, and that was it. He never spoke more than a few sentences at a time. Gone were the days of rants and backstory and additional context, that you always argued were important. No one listened to Spencer like you did. Instead, now, the world settled into an uncomfortable silence where laughter and rambling and teasing should have been. 

“She’s good like that.” Derek looked down at his hands. The two of them barely spoke. Spencer knew that Derek could still see your breath stop when he closed his eyes. Derek once drunkenly told him that sometimes, he could still see your blood over his hands–He couldn’t wash it out with water, so some nights he’d wash it out with whiskey, or bourbon, or scotch, anything to make the stains go away. 

The two of them looked at one another before opting to not say anything further, at risk of causing them both even more grief at the subject of you. 

I swear Spence, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I know you will.

It was funny to him that in his day dream, you always ended up comforting him. You always ended up being the one to make sure he was okay before you died. 

I love you so much Spence. 

And he would just whisper how much he loved you back, hoping to any god that somewhere, somehow, you could hear him. You could hear his misery and come back, having pranked him. He’d forgive you, if you came back. 

But instead, while he thought about you at 43,894 feet above the earth, you lay six feet under, permanently grounded. 

[heradion]

These feelings fester up inside

But how could I deny these butterflies (An off-screen Sterek ficlet)

In the dead of night, a sudden noise jolts Stiles awake as he sits up to notice the room empty and feeling warm. When he picked up the telephone, he realised there was no sound on the other end.

He slowly got up and stood up turning as the door to the room opened up and Derek entered with a candle in his hand.

"Hey , What happened?" Stiles asked as Derek walked closer the room being illuminated by just the moonlight and few streetlights right outside their window.

"There was a power outage, I went to check on it" Derek replied placing the candle down by the side table

"What was that noise?" Stiles asked as he walked over to the window opening it up to let some air in.

"A pole crashed onto the road, and the backup generator isn't working " Derek sighed taking off his shirt and pulling on a grey vest instead.

Stiles sat on the bed leaning against the bed frame while Derek opened the door the slightest bit to allow some ventilation before sitting on the other end of the bed across from Stiles.

As they sit in the dim light, the silence between them stretches, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Derek clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Guess we're in for a long night."

Stiles nods, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice "Yeah, seems like it."

For a moment, they sit in awkward silence, the only sound the flickering of the candle flame . But as the minutes pass, Derek begins to speak, his voice low and hesitant.

"So uhm..What have you been upto since I left?" He asked

Stiles sighed " Well..uhm...me and Scott had a falling out..of sorts because of a guy named Theo." He started before explaining everything that transpired while Derek was gone including the Wild Hunt taking him.

As Stiles continued to recount the events that transpired during Derek's absence, Derek listened intently, his brow furrowed with concern.

He watches Stiles carefully, his gaze unwavering as he absorbs every word.

When Stiles finishes speaking, a heavy silence descends upon them,

"Stiles, I'm sorry you had to go through all of that," Derek says, his voice filled with genuine concern. "It sounds like you've been through a lot."

Stiles offers a weak smile, grateful for Derek's understanding. "Yeah, it hasn't been easy, but that was one of the reasons I took up the FBI Internships...to take a break from Beacon Hills."

Derek nodded understanding what he meant." Beacon Hills is my home but it can feel like a lot" Derek stated

"I know what you mean." Stiles said "I..uhm..overheard my dad and Parrish talking 2 days back on call when he thought he ended the call about something happening back there."

"So you're thinking of going back?" Derek enquired a little concerned

Stiles hesitated for a second looking away "I don't know, I want to..for my dad and Scott..and the others too of course"

"But..I'm not .."Stiles's voice trailed off

"I know" Derek said as Stiles turned to look at him feeling a sense of warmth fill his chest knowing Derek understood

"Stiles, You've been through a lot,since the Nogitsune and all of this now..." Derek stated shifting closer " I don't want you to feel like you have to face it all alone. I know what that feels like..and it's..not easy."

"That's… really kind of you, Derek," Stiles said, his voice soft with gratitude. "Thank you."

Derek gave him a small smile before Stiles sat up "What were you upto? Going on new adventures with Braeden?"

Derek grinned looking away "No, I helped her with a mission before we parted ways. I was with Cora for a while before getting trapped in this mess trying to find a pack of hunters when Chris found me. And then Kate found us."

Stiles's mouth dropped open at the mention of Kate and nodded understanding why Derek didn't want to come back to Beacon Hills with Chris.

Stiles looked at Derek a little surprised at what he just heard before Derek continued "And then you ran into me."

"So I saved our ass." Stiles stated "Again."

"I guess you did" Derek replied rolling his eyes seemingly annoyed but the corner of his lips turned up when they were interrupted by the sound of thunder as it started to rain.

Stiles looked outside the window watching the rain fall before standing up and slowly limping towards the front door.

"I love the rain" He said leaning against the door frame opening the door a little more as Derek turned to face him.

"Yeah, me too" Derek said the two of them watching the rain pour outside

"Not when I'm driving though" Stiles pointed out turning behind

"No one does" Derek stated before they settled into a comfortable silence.

Derek looked over at Stiles noticing he was shivering before getting up to grab a sweater from him bag and walking over to him.

"Here" Derek said handing him a maroon sweater as Stiles took it looking confused.

"You're gonna get sick, you look like a homeless puppy out during the cold " Derek stated as Stiles thanked him before wearing it

Derek grinned leaning agasint the door frame opposite to Stiles looking at him wearing his sweater which was clearly too big for him.

"What?" Stiles asked crossing his arms

"Nothing" Derek replied amused as Stiles narrowed his eyes before looking out at the rain

Stiles rolled up the sleeve of his sweater on his right arm, feeling the cool droplets of rain against his skin.

With a mischievous grin, he reached over, cupping his hand to let the rainwater collect in his palm.

As Derek stood nearby, oblivious to Stiles' plan, Stiles couldn't resist the urge to try and annoy Derek. With a swift movement, he flicked his wrist, sending a spray of rainwater in Derek's direction.

Derek blinked in surprise as the droplets landed on his face and clothes, his expression shifting from confusion to amusement.

Before he could react, Stiles let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet night.

"Stiles, I'm gonna kill you." Derek stated wiping the water from his face.

"You're lucky you're injured" Derek said raising his eyebrows wiping the water from his brows

"Or what?" Stiles teased raising his eyebrows " You would've ripped my throat out?"

Derek rolled his eyes pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before looking at Stiles who had playful smirk on his face

" With your teeth?" He asked splashing him again

"Okay , That's it" Derek said running his hands through his hair before grabbing Stiles's wrists with one hand and letting some water gather in his palm before splashing Stiles as he protested

"I don't like getting wet" He protested as Derek splashed him 2 more times

"Derek, stop, oh my god, I'm going to kill you Hale!" He called out as Derek finally stopped letting him go

"Dude." Stiles said wiping his face "I have to take a shower again. In the dark that too"

"Your fault Stillinski" Derek shrugged smirking as he looked between Stiles's eyes and lips before heading inside as Stiles followed shortly behind.

(Part.1) / (Part.2) / (Part.3) /(Part.4) /(Part.5)

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

FBI!Spencer Reid x Fem Reader aka ✨️DAY 5✨️

You didn't know what was wrong with you. Derek and Spencer were nearby arguing about something and you were just staring, not at Derek. But at Spencer. You're eyes roved over his FBI vest and his askew glasses and messy hair.

The nerd looked so fucking fine.

You felt your throat constrict at the vulgar things playing in your head.

You stop your staring as you head over to your car for a drink, to cool down. When all of a sudden you're pined to the car, you try to remember your FBI training when the person whispers in your ear.

"Did you really think I didn't notice." Spencer

You're core was burning at the very position, Spencer moved his leg forward having his knee in your crotch. . All you could think about was how long you would last if he looked at you. You were actually very ready to cum in your pants.

Spencer knew what he was doing, his knee grinding against you, suddenly he stopped. He moved back and you turned watching him watch you.

"What are you doing," you ask your voice betraying your need. All he did was hum in response. Then he took out his phone and typed something fast. Your phone pinged.

It was the group chat.

Spencer: Our little Miss Detective isn't feeling well so I'm taking her home.

Derek is typing.

Derek: 👌🏾

JJ: Aww poor babyyy

Hotch: Ok

You looked up from your phone watching Spencer.

All he did was smirk.

Your phone pinged again.

Spencer: Do you guys mind if I stayed with her?

JJ: ABSOLUTELY NOT YOU USE YOUR GENIUS BRAIN AND HELP HER

Derek: You heard the miss

Hotch: It would be beneficial. You are dismissed.

Suddenly the door behind you swung open.

"Sit,"

Along side the Ghostface Spencer hope y'all enjoy

@controversialkattyluv

@bunny-script

@futuremrsreid

@nan0p0d

[friendly-witcher]

Damn

just a small spencer x gn reader (I think, tell me if I missed something) ficlet about the first time you see him in his FBI vest. inspo was all the tiktok edits 🔥

word count: <1k

warnings: implied sexual themes set in the finale of season 7. bank heist + bomb threat with Lady X. established relationship with reader, who is a misc. scientist at the Smithsonian (yes I watched too much bones). this is a no maeve zone.

if you like this, I might write a few more with them :)

please be kind, my writing is my own, I do not own these characters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your boyfriend is hot, you’ve been well aware of this since the day you bumped into him in the hallway of your apartment building and every day since then. He’s tall, handsome, and has perpetually tousled hair, to say nothing of the fact that he is the smartest person you’ve ever met. He looks like a sexy professor straight out of a romance novel, yet somehow has no idea how gorgeous he is. All of this being said, you were not prepared to see him in your office wearing his usual dress shirt, tie, and his FBI bullet proof vest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ An hour or two before ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer had rushed to the scene after a bomb went off in the bank. He had sent you a brief text saying that he was fine, not to worry, and that he was heading into the city. This was the first time since you had been dating that a high profile case had been this close to home. So while you were used to being worried, this worry felt so much more immediate as you watched the chaos unfold only a mile or two away. 

You stayed in your office trying to concentrate on tables and graphs, but your eyes kept drifting to the news live-stream in the corner of your screen. You heard a quiet knock on the door and looked up to see your colleague Renee eyeing you with concern. 

“Lover Boy is on the scene isn’t he?” She asked, grimacing. 

You nodded, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears that threatened to form. 

Renee perched on your desk and took your hand. “He’s a highly trained FBI genius, he’s going to be ok.” You nodded again, rubbing your face in exasperation. “Let’s go and make a tea.” Pulling you from your desk. You resisted, motioning to the screen. “Watching isn’t going to help him, it’s only going to make you more stressed.” 

“I’m bringing my phone.” You grumbled as you followed Renee to the kitchen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Emily and Will walked out of Union Station, battered but unscathed, Spencer let out the breath he felt he had been holding in since Will had walked into that bank. 

“We’re ok, we’re ok.” Emily held out her hands as you all rushed towards her. 

“Thanks to Miss Calm and Collected here.” Drawled Will, looking at Emily with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "She defused a bomb in under two minutes without breaking a sweat."

“Well done. Both of you.” Hotch looked them both over approvingly. “You two go get checked out. I’ve got to debrief with Strauss then we are good to head out.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement, patting each other on the back and inspecting their wounds. Spencer hung back and looked at his phone, “Actually guys, I have to go check on something…” not meeting any of their curious gazes, “I’ll catch up with you guys later. If that’s ok?” 

Hotch nodded, dismissing him. “Good work today.”

“Catch you later, Pretty Boy.” Derek winked at him and turned to walk away. 

Spencer looked back down at his phone at the message, “Please be careful, I love you.” You had never said that before. He had suspected that you did love him for a while, but this was the first irrefutable evidence. He smiled and started towards where he knew you would be waiting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Spencer often dropped you outside work or met you nearby for lunch, he had never actually been to your office. He came through the doors slightly out of breath, “Do you know where I would find Dr Y/N L/N’s office?” 

As he strode through the corridors of the Smithsonian Institute trying to find your office he noticed he was drawing quite a few stares. Ignoring this, he finally reached your door. Where he found you with your head resting on your arms, a forgotten cup of tea beside you. 

He knocked on the door gently and you started to say, “Renee I’m fi- ” until you finally looked up and saw Spencer standing in the doorway. Your face broke into a smile, “Spencer!” 

Your eyes raked over him as he approached, unscathed, and damn. You had thought the men-in-uniform thing was a joke but looking at Spencer now you got it, picking your jaw off the ground you barrelled into his arms. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, turning your face to examine your features. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine now,” squeezing him tighter and smiling up at him. He looked at you amused and curious. 

“What was that face? Was it about the text?” Concern marring his beautiful face. 

“Honey, no! I meant that…I just…” you blushed, “I’ve never seen you in this…” your hands tracing across his chest adorned with the letters ‘FBI’. 

“I did get a lot of funny looks walking over here,” his brow furrowed, “I’m sorry I should have taken it off. I just wanted to see you and forgot.” He shook his head, admonishing himself. 

Looking up at him you continued trying to stifle a giggle, “Spencer, you sweet beautiful genius,” you said as you cupped his face, “They weren’t looking at you funny. You look, how should I put it, smoking hot. Like an actual real life superhero.”

It was his turn to blush and he tried to disagree with you, but met with your adoring gaze he stayed quiet and grinned. He gently pressed his lips to yours then met your eyes, “By the way, I love you too.” You kissed him again, smiling. 

“Come on, let me take you home.” He picked up your bag and extended a hand to you. 

“Yes please, Dr FBI agent.” Taking his hand and smirking at him. 

“So I should wear the vest more often?” He asked innocently.

“Definitely.” 

[nerdieforpedro]

Those Damn Hot Dogs

Chapter One of Therapy for the Well-Adjusted

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: Nerdie doesn’t know how the FBI works (despite watching all the crimes procedurals), one gun shot, insulting hot dogs 🌭, random book reference, a wee bit of blood, yelling & cursing

Summary: Marcus Pike was mandated to go to therapy. His journey there was very bumpy. We meet Dr. Mint and Vernon! (both OFCs)

Notes: I started this because I wanted Marcus to be a bit unhinged. Like why not? 😀

But also because I’ve had some bad experiences with therapy and some very positive ones.

Plus I enjoyed the doctor’s names way too much. I’m on my mess with puns. 😉

If you feel you need therapy or counseling, you should research the best cost effective options for you and make sure that your therapist is someone you feel comfortable with. Vibes are important in this case.

Main Masterlist/ Marcus Pike Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Marcus is talking with his therapist, Dr. Mint. He never thought he would need to see one. Not that people don’t need to see them or take their mental health seriously, they should and he does. He has to. He’s an FBI agent. Although he is in art crimes, there’s still quite a bit of shady characters, deals and crazy crap that people will do to have their art or hide how they got it.

The journey to Dr. Mint took Marcus two months from the incident to now.

The incident in question was something he never expected. Marcus Pike prided himself on being able to roll with life's punches, no matter how gut-wrenching they might be. Prior to ‘the incident’ his team were investigating possible pieces of art that were thought to have been smuggled into the country. Supposedly from California over to the East Coast. That should have been his first clue, the mention of that state. He was briefed about two consultants coming to assist since they had dealings and information of the particular ring of smugglers.

Patrick Jane and his wife Teresa Jane.

The amount of time Marcus had put into this case had been the last few months. Tracking leads, making connections, reviewing financials, flights, etc. He implored his superiors that they didn’t need their help. They’re making headway toward busting these guys without these two, especially one of them’s penchant for causing property damage and being a PR nightmare. The higher ups said that his team had enough time to find these guys and they haven’t so this case needs to be closed now. Pike didn’t understand the urgency, these were typical smugglers, not traffickers or people or drugs, but he had to back down. He would take many deep breaths and interact with them as little as possible.

Of course Patrick Jane asked to be on my team. The vest wearing, tired brown shoes having hot dog water looking bastard.

Agent Pike knew he’d have to grin and bear it. He’s a professional and a special agent. Unlike this prick, he can’t just do as he pleases. There are rules, regulations and he would like to stay gainfully employed at a job he loves. Patrick Jane nor his hot dog water loving wife Teresa will make him lose it.

The first two weeks went fine. Limited interaction, and all about the case. The third week was when they finally caught the smugglers at their warehouse. A mix of Marcus pulling up prior maps of an area outside of DC on the outskirts of the state of Virginia and Patrick seeing a pattern in pieces they were taking. The bust was running smoothly, all of them were caught except one. Marcus was chasing him and the idiot ‘not an actual agent’ Patrick decided he was somehow going to help chase the perp as well in those slippery ugly brown shoes.

It was his own fault.

Not Pike’s. He called in that he saw the suspect, let them know he was in pursuit and was chasing them. It was Jane that called himself trying to be some action hero popping out from a nearby alley to chase the same perp. Pike yelled at him to move, Patrick chose not to listen. His ass paid the price. Literally.

Some might have thought Marcus did it on purpose, especially if they knew the extremely sorted history between Patrick, Teresa and Marcus, but he truly did not. The suspect had pulled a gun and was trying to shoot Marcus, he dodged and shot the perp in the calf, disabling him enough for Pike to run over and clap cuffs on him. He then called for an ambulance.

Pike heard Patrick cursing as he was laying on the ground. Marcus thought maybe he just fell, but there was blood, not from the suspect. Jane was bleeding from his ass, the bullet had grazed him before hitting the suspect. Before Marcus could hold it in, and remain professional he laughed. Not a chuckle or snicker but a full, down on both knees next to the perp laugh. Which made the smuggler laugh as well. Teresa and the other agents made their way over and wondered what an agent and criminal could find so funny. Mrs. Hot Dog became hysterical that Patrick was bleeding so of course he leaned into it, shaking where he hadn’t been before.

Marcus and the suspect watched and looked at each other, “That’s some bullshit my guy.” Pike agreed. Standing up holding the suspect in front of him, he took him over to be booked and processed.

Patrick was taking his sweet time getting off the ground and Teresa was beginning to yell at Marcus, telling him that she’d have his badge for harming her Patrick.

Marcus Pike had enough. He requested to not have them in this case, asked to be reassigned, and has kept interactions to a minimum. He didn’t ask Patrick to chase a suspect. He’s a consultant. He’s not supposed to be doing it anyway!

Uncharacteristically, Marcus yelled and told Teresa to “keep her hot dog water looking man out of the way of FBI business. Had he not been here, the suspect wouldn’t have shot him. Jane needs to stay in his lane and keep all his hot dog foolishness over there.” Teresa was going to say something else, “You don’t say shit to me. You left me then, how am I supposed to know you’re going to do your damn job in the field if you didn’t even have the backbone to tell me no face to face or over the phone. You didn’t ask what actually happened! Put a bun on him to soak up his blood and hot dog water.”

Everyone was silent, even Jane.

No one expected Marcus to say anything, let alone admonishing Patrick and Teresa’s behavior. Everyone knew it was a lot but Pike had been a consummate professional during their entire time here.

Teresa was mortified and started to cry. Jane finally got up and limped over to the supervising agent who just told him to go over to the ambulance to get checked out.

No one directly addressed it, not until the Jane’s were gone and they threw a party. Marcus was invited but he declined. He’d been put out on administrative leave and was at home tuning his bass guitar. Wondering about what they said. They suggested he take some time off, cool his head and could come back after some counseling session.

Marcus had tried to go to the FBI one but it ended on a weird note. The initial meeting went well, but the small older woman asked for a hug. She said that Marcus resembled her former husband. He politely declined and told his supervisors that it wasn’t going to work with the FBI’s counselor.

Pike now had two weeks to find one he could see and clear him. His colleague Mark, suggested one that had helped him and his wife during a rough period in their marriage:

Dr. Mint of “Mint and Julep Counseling: Helping therapy go down smooth.”

The name and the tagline made Marcus chuckle and highly suspicious so he researched them, Mark vouched for the group of counselors and doctors. It’s worth a try. It had to be better than the last one.

Marcus wore his red flannel shirt, open exposing his white t-shirt underneath. Rubbing his hands on his dark wash jeans, getting the sweat off them, he opened the glass door leading into the reception area. The colors were neutral: white, tan, gold and gray. There was a friendly older gentleman at the desk who wore and striking green sweater and had bi-focals, peering at Marcus upward, maybe trying to look through the upper half of the glasses.

“Good afternoon sir, here for an appointment?”

“Yes I am. New patient for Dr. Mint. Marcus Pike. Nice to meet you sir.”

“Oh! You’re early, that’s nice. Wait there. Did you want some water? I’ll let them know you’re here. Should be finishing up with the previous patient shortly.” The gentleman informed him and Marcus took a seat on one of the black leather chairs.

He waited about ten minutes, he’d been fifteen minutes early. It was easier to find than he thought and it was in a stand alone building rather than in a strip mall. It was near a Panera and a Dunkin’s so Marcus had some landmarks for it.

Dr. Mint has sepia bangs which seems to be their natural hair color. The rest of their hair is cut close and is dyed a deep plum color. Normally Marcus might have taken a pause given that they’re also wearing a cream sweater that looks one size too big for them with black slacks and loafers, but they shake his hand and have a strong grip. Pike respects this and follows the good doctor to his office. The agent figures it can’t be worse than the last therapist. Dr. Mint is a few inches taller than Marcus but thin, willowy he might say. Something about him invokes trust, could be their sharp jaw and or that once they sit and Marcus begins talking about what happened with the two hot dogs, he sees something in their dark brown eyes that he didn’t with the other therapists. Dr. Mint didn’t think he’d lost his mind.

Pike’s luck has finally changed.

The doctor thanked Marcus for coming to see them and hoped that he would make a future appointment. They also stated that given the pressure he was under and the specific circumstances, they weren’t sure there was a right way to approach the situation.

“I mean, it is kinda funny. If you think about it, Dr. Mint.” Marcus departs their office and makes an appointment for later in the week with Vernon, the front desk gentleman. On his way out, he held the door for a woman in a cobalt dress, she thanked him and smiled. Pike felt his eyes linger on her for a few moments as she went to the desk and checked in with Vernon too. She sat down, crossing her legs at her ankles after setting her black tote back in a chair next to her. She was on her phone for a few and then pulled her bag into her lap, making herself smaller despite the waiting room being empty save for the man behind the desk.

Marcus wondered what brought her to this place, it could be anything. Her blue dress stuck out in his mind and he remembered there was a book about a woman in a blue dress, what was it called? He stopped to grab a salad and soup from Panera before heading home.

“Wait…” Marcus pulled into his parking space outside of his apartment building. “Devil in the blue dress, I think it’s by Walter Mosley. Wasn’t that a movie too? Maybe I should watch it tonight.” As tonight’s feature was decided, he set about trying to find which streaming service it would be on.

Marcus felt he made a good choice today.

Hot dog haters 🌭: @megamindsecretlair @jessthebaker @avastrasposts @jeewrites @josephquinnswhore

@bishtrouille @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @morallyinept @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @rosecentaur1916 @rulexofxnines @inept-the-magnificent

Chapter Two

[garciaasfluffypen]

stand down

word count: 1.7k pairing: jennifer jareau & bau team warnings: jj’s an idiot who refuses to take care of herself, canon typical violence, gun/gunshot mentions, a/n: based off of the bullet list i wrote earlier last year of jj being hard of hearing/partially deaf because she’s all i can think about right now.

everything was fine. 

not.

jj adjusted in her seat yet again as she struggled to understand what was going on, the ringing in her ear becoming more and more prominent as the meeting went on. being in rural kansas had it's perks, but the random unit meetings to explain to the whole station what was happening roughly every day was not one of them. she found herself sinking to the back, sitting farther away from hotch so he didn’t jump to her for parts of the profile. everyone else could deal with it. and if she were being honest, the room was getting a bit stuffy and everyone’s voices were getting muffled. 

air. that’s what she needed. she needed air. 

knowing that she only had a few minutes before the team and the rest of the unit went out to find the guy they were looking for. garcia had worked her magic that morning, and it was only seconds before she had pinpointed his location. she was hoping nobody could tell that the ringing was bothering her, but considering that she’s had her airpod in all day and had to take it out, she wasn’t sure how easy that was going to be. the listening feature had become her saving grace over the past few months, using it to help hear things around her. it helped that she wore her hair down a majority of the time, so she was able to cover it. but when they went out on missions, it became harder. the volume only went up so high on the ear pieces, and she’s sure she’d be found out lickety split if they happened to look at how high she kept the volume. 

out of the corner of her eye, she saw emily poke her head out of the door, her words mumbling together. something along the lines of are you okay? if only she still had her airpod in. 

“yeah, sorry, needed air. i’ll be there in a second.” 

she took a big breath and made sure she looked mostly composed before heading back inside, silently following the team to where they had stored their gear that morning. she went through the steps like a zombie, knowing that something rough might happen if she didn’t pull her a-game out of her ass. that was, presuming it was in there at all. she hadn’t seen it lately, and it was beginning to bother her. it was probably the fact that instructions had been going in one ear and out the other recently, but she frankly didn’t want to deal with that at the moment. she just wanted to curl up in the hotel bed, catch up on the news and go to sleep before the team flew out back to dc. that wasn’t too much to ask for, right? 

out of habit, she put the earpiece on her right ear, the volume going all the way up. she stuck the mic pack in her back pocket, clipping the chord to her fbi vest as hotch rattled off instructions. she had started to realize she was getting every other word, but that was probably because her bad ear was occupied with the ear piece, making it so she had to listen out of her left. a majority of what hotch was saying was pretty standard, stuff she already knew. did she maybe miss a key point or two? probably. she needed to get herself into gear and pretend everything was fine. even though it wasn’t fine and she probably was putting herself at a greater risk of being hurt while going out to the field with hearing problems. but that was a problem for future jj.

the ride to the farm where the unsub was hiding was relatively short, giving jj the smallest amount of time to mentally prepare for what she was about to go through. instructions were being rattled off left and right, words barely registering as she watched everyone go around her. she once again stayed towards the back, hoping that it would help her feel less seen. she felt a pair of eyes on her, but brushed it off. now was not the time to be worrying about her. hotch split everyone up and got the ransom phone ready, about to press the call button when jj heard the sound of gunshots. everyone ran out, jj following emily and morgan towards one of the cars and ducking down. from what she was gathering, one of the local unit members had made a commotion and startled the unsub, causing him to start shooting. that left her team in a very compromising position, considering ransom requests hadn’t even been made yet. 

“what are we going to do?” morgan looked back to jj and emily. “i don’t like not having orders.” 

“just wait for hotch to say something. we technically don’t have to listen to bitch ass mcgee over there who’s making all the wrong calls.” 

jj nodded, agreeing. “em’s right. just wait for hotch to say something. we’re ready to go if need be.”

as if on cue, more gunshots rang out. the three jumped into position, waiting for the hand signal from rossi to start shooting. the local units were running all around them, almost as if they were chickens with their heads cut off. as more gunshots flew around them, jj could feel the ringing coming back, inwardly cursing at the horrible timing. she started concentrating hard, making sure she could pick up noises with her good ear to make sure she had somewhat of an understanding as to what was going on around her. everything was a blur as they waited and waited for the cue to come. finally, hotch’s voice cracked through the earpiece. 

“stand down, everyone.”

she cupped her hand over her ear, attempting to understand what hotch was saying. 

“do not engage.” 

she scrunched her face. she heard him say engage. why wasn’t anyone moving? without a second thought, jj lurched forward, leaving her spot from behind the car and ducking down as a slew of gunshots rang out. there were a few possible ways to go in- one was more covered, the other wasn’t but had a more direct line to the front door. or, if she felt adventurous, she could go around to the back and head in through one of the windows that had been busted in the midst of everything or the side door. hotch was yelling something in her ear, but the sounds were all muffled as she got closer to the house. she could feel emily and morgan staring at her back, but she refused to turn around. she couldn’t take their stares of confusion as she made her way towards the house, barrel rolling behind a bush before the unsub could see her. more and more words were failing to register in her brain as she tried to figure out her plan of action. she could see the unsub pacing in the front room, meaning if she went in the side door she had a better chance of catching him off guard. 

she made her way to the side of the house, slowly opening the side door. in the window she saw emily and morgan aiming their guns while rossi and spencer made their way to the other vehicle the units were using as a shield. as slowly and quietly as she could, she made her way down the hallway, her breathing shallow so she didn’t make too much noise. she paused outside of the room dustin was in, straining to hear what he was saying. she couldn’t hear much, since he was talking under his breath. she rounded the corner, his name barely falling from her lips before he turned around with a handgun pointed at her.

pop! pop!

dustin fell to the floor, his gun flying across the floor as jj moved closer to him. she had missed his heart, going closer to his lungs. that was good. they could get him to the hospital for treatment and questioning. the team had an idea of his motive, but didn’t know the whole story. they probably never would know the whole story, since they were leaving tomorrow. but from what she remembered, some people talked within hours of waking up from the anesthesia. she hoped dustin would be one of them. 

the rest of the team filed in, the local units closely following as everyone spread out around the house. jj stood off to the side, recounting every step she took meticulously, as she knew the paperwork would be a bitch since she had to use her weapon. she felt a figure pop up beside her on the left, taking a second to let her know he was there before speaking. 

“are you okay?” rossi looked over to her.

“yeah, fine.” jj nodded. 

“that was ballsy.” 

“hm?” it took a second to register. “i was following orders.”

“orders to not engage?” 

he said do not engage. 

oh.

“i-”

“it’s okay, kid. everyone is in denial when their hearing starts to go.” rossi patted her on the back. “do you want me to talk to hotch before you do?”

“no i… i fucked up. i need to own up to it.” jj wrung her hands together. “it was my own fault.” i could have listened more closely. i could have done better.

“don’t beat yourself up over it. he’ll be upset, but he’ll understand.” 

“but what if he doesn't?”

“i’ll throw him in quantico creek to teach him a lesson.” 

jj chuckled lightly before heading towards the front of the house, stepping to the side as dustin was rolled off on a stretcher. she saw hotch standing by the ransom phone, talking to the chief of the local unit. with a breath, she made her way over and waited for him to be done talking. 

“rossi mentioned you wanted to talk to me?” she took the earpiece off her ear. 

“yes.” hotch sighed. “when were you going to tell me you were struggling with your hearing?” 

jj didn’t respond. 

“what you did today was pretty fucking dangerous, jj. i gave orders to not engage. you, more than anyone on this team, should understand the importance of ransom needs being met before attempting to engage. i need to know you’re with me.” 

“i am.” 

“i’m giving you the weekend off, call your doctor and get your hearing checked when we get home. after that, you’re not allowed in the field unless i see fit, are we clear?” 

“yes sir.”

hotch’s features softened. “all that aside, are you okay?” 

“i…” jj paused. “i’ll be fine.” 

at least, that was the hope. 

[storiesofsvu2-0]

Translucent

Alex Blake x reader Warnings: language, smut, teasing, masturbation, guided masturbation, sex toys, minor degradation, very brief choking. a/n: Covers a bingo square! and a req from @rustyzebra I’m gonna be posting from this blog either permanently or until the other one gets un-shadow banned. I don’t know why or how or how long that will take, my guess is that it’s got something to do with the community labels? That being said, this is under said label, so that this blog doesn’t get shadow banned. So make sure you have your settings set appropriate to see what you want and so you don’t miss any future stories. (Eta: apparently theres no winning. I post with a label, it wont show in the tags. I post without & risk getting shadowbanned. Hellsite.) Also if you see this and you’re writing for bingo, pls tag this account as the other one basically has no access anymore (hopefully temporarily).

Nobody was having a good time on this case and that was evident, everyone hyper focussed to make sure you could get the hell out of there and back home as fast as possible. The team had been back in DC less five hours when Hotch called to reroute everyone back to the jet, you’d only had time to toss laundry in and get ready for date night before it was time to grab you go bag. You changed on the jet, cursing yourself when you realized you’d forgotten to toss in what you called your work bra, at least your shirts were thick.

The grumpy moods continued as you deplaned in a small town in Texas, quickly jumping into the field to trace down a team of unsubs. You were in the field with Emily when you managed to apprehend the unsubs and when one of them jumped into lake with the hopes of getting away on the boat moored ten feet up you were the one that was a second faster. Your swimmer instincts taking over as you dove into the lake and caught up to them before they even realized you were in the water. Emily muttered something about owing you coffee for the next month and you made your way back to the local precinct, one unsub in tow. You’d left your vest on in an attempt to not get the chills on the way back, thankful that Emily had tuned on the heat in the SUV. Passing off the unsub to be processed the two of you crossed the building back to the meeting room you’d been using, joining JJ and Morgan.

“Woah, someone take a break for a swim?” Derek greeted with a tease and you shot him a glare, Emily answering for you.

“We’re lucky she did, unsubs in custody.”

“Our guy’s in the wind.” JJ replied with a sigh and the entire room felt the frustration sink in.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” You grumbled, half of your brain regretting diving into the lake, wondering if it had really been that worth it.

With a huff you ripped at the Velcro on your vest, pulling it off over your head to toss onto a spare chair. You could feel your clothes clinging to you, soaked with lake water, at the very least you were thankful you hadn’t been wearing jeans and that your make up was waterproof.

“So what’re we looking at?” You asked, crossing you arms over your chest and the conversation rerouted back to the case at hand. Everyone was more than eager to at least get back to the hotel for some rest and a solid lead would help that.

It was almost a full half hour later that Alex returned to the room from talking to a witness, Reid half a foot behind her. You had your back to the door as you updated the white board when Alex’s voice caught your attention and you capped the marker, turning around to them and Reid’s eyes widened, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Oh my god, y/n!” He was whipping off his FBI jacket instantly, moving to get it wrapped around you and at first you thought it was just because you were still drenched, but the smirk on Emily’s lips told you otherwise.

“What? I—” Glancing down you realized your misstep. Laundry day plus date night meant you were still in date night lingerie. Lingerie that was deep red, lacy, a hint of mesh that left very little to the imagination and thanks to your little dip earlier, completely visible to everyone in the room through your shirt. “Could’ve said something.” You scowled to the three who’d been there when you took off the vest, hands clutching at the jacket seams in an attempt to keep it closed.

“Didn’t wanna get in trouble for looking.” Derek muttered, his gaze on the file in front of him.

“Pretty sure I was with you when you bought that one.” Emily smirked in return and you rolled your eyes, glancing back to Alex.

Her head tilted, eyes flicking down you body, watching the way your shirt clung to your skin before she cocked a brow at you, her jaw hardening and you couldn’t help but gulp. While she always was a wonder with words, you were at the point in your relationship that you could communicate without them and she was making her point very clear right now. Alex could feel the arousal building deep within her already, annoyed that the case had taken away the opportunity to see you in whatever set matched the now very visible bra. Though, she wasn’t complaining about how erotic this was, on display for everyone to see. She felt the possessiveness surge through her, her eyes narrowing in your direction until you properly fixed the jacket so you were covered, you knew better, something like that was only for her to see.

You felt the heat creeping up the back of your neck, knowing exactly what Alex was thinking, that you were hers and only hers, even if the team didn’t know it. Daring to look her in the eye you felt your pulse quicken, knowing that she was thinking of all the dirty things she’d seen you do, all the dirty things she’d made you do and just how she was going to remind you who you belonged to later. You were aware that the conversation had picked back up in the conference room but there was no way you were hearing any of it, lost to the sinful imagination of one Alex Blake. Suddenly, Emily swatted at you with a folder and you were pulled out of your dirty thoughts, glancing toward her.

“What?”

“I said go back to the hotel. You jumped in a lake, you caught an unsub, I think you deserve a shower and a change of clothes, we won’t be much longer.”

“Yeah… thanks.” You nodded at her before crossing through the room and Alex’s eyes didn’t leave your body once, her lips pursed tight.

*

By the time you were warmed up, out of the shower and wrapped in a surprisingly fluffy robe, Alex was already back in the hotel room waiting for you. She stood from the bed when the bathroom door opened, a smirk on her lips as she sauntered through the room toward you. Her finger curled under your chin, tilting your eyes up to her.

“You pulled quite the little stunt today sweetheart. Wearing that kind of lingerie to work?”

“I didn’t have time to change.” You countered.

“You changed on the jet.”

“I forgot to pack another bra.”

“Sounds like someone’s making excuses.” She tutted, pinching at your chin, “were you feeling like a naughty slut today? Did you want the entire team to see what you were wearing under your shirt, because I’m starting to think that you did. Be a little show off, let them know how much of a bad girl you are?”

“No ma’am.” You murmured, “it was an accident.”

“Hmm.” She surveyed you for a moment, “I’m not sure I believe you. I do know how much you like to make it all about you, how much you love putting on a good show when you bounce on my cock. So how about you take off that robe, get on the bed and be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Your hands swiftly undid the belt of the robe, letting it fall open and Alex’s eyes dragged down your naked body, darkening as they went, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. When you dropped the robe to the floor her finger and thumb pinched at your chin, rewarding you with a kiss, her lips moving gracefully against your own before she nudged you toward the bed.

You dropped onto it, shuffling upwards until you were comfortable among the pillows, looking down to Alex who simply arched a brow in return as she slipped out of her blazer. Trying not to gulp, you spread your legs for her, opening yourself up to her burning gaze.

“How long were you in that room with your vest off? Hmm?”

“Not sure…” you could feel your breath picking up already with just her eyes on you, wondering exactly what she had planned. She frowned in your direction, hands moving down the center of her shirt as she undid the buttons, “maybe… half hour?”

“Well, then you’ve got half an hour to kill.” She shrugged, adding the folded shirt to the pile on the other bed, “better get yourself warmed up since you were in the mood to show off.”

It was only after a small nod from her, confirming that she was okay with you touching that your hand slid down your body slowly. You kept your eyes trained on Alex as she pulled a chair to the foot of the bed, pausing to strip out of her pants before she took a seat in it, her gaze landing between your legs.

“Timer doesn’t start until you do sweetheart.” She smirked and you let out a breath, your head falling back into the pillows.

Half an hour was going to be torture and you knew it, then again, that was the point wasn’t it? Your hand snuck between your legs, making sure they were nice and wide for Alex to see what you were doing. Your fingers brushed against your clit, slowly beginning to rub at it in small circles.

“That’s my good girl.” Alex cooed from the end of the bed, soft grin on her cheeks as her eyes darkened.

You took a deep breath, knowing that your time had just started, your fingers slipped down to your cunt, gathering some of your wetness and bringing it back up to your clit, continuing to rub at it slowly. Your breath hitched, your hips gently rocking toward the touch and you heard Alex chuckle. You continued on like that, wanting to drag it out as long as possible to kill the time until you uncontrollably moaned, your hips rocking up off the bed.

“I can see you glistening from here.” Alex mused, “why don’t you see how wet you really are? My dirty girl…”

“Please?” You whined, your eyes cracking open to look down at her with a pout on your lips and she laughed.

“Oh sweet girl, it’s only been four minutes.”

“But—”

“Ah!” She scolded, “did you want me to restart the timer?”

“No ma’am.” You pouted, your hands returning to your body.

One groped at your chest, pinching your nipple between your finger and thumb, repeating the action on both sides until both were hard peaks. Your other hand slunk between your legs again, heel of your hand brushing on your clit and you whined before slipping two fingers into your wet cunt.

“Oh god…” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s my girl.” She praised with a happy hum.

Your fingers began thrusting into your cunt, pulling out more wetness with each pump of your hand, slow and steady, ready to wait out the clock Alex had set. Your breathing picked up, little whines and whimpers leaving your lips as you felt the heat begin to build deep within your body. You shivered when the tips of your fingers briefly brushed across the sensitive spot of your walls, a moan leaving you and Alex hummed again.

“Why don’t you try that move again? I know how good it must feel.”

Knowing better than to defy Alex’s requests at this point your fingers sunk back in, curling right where you knew it would feel incredible and you let out a moan.

“Fuck…”

“There you go. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” You moaned, unable to control yourself as your fingers curled again, brushing against the spot and you pressed harder, your breath catching in your throat.  Your hips rocked up off the bed and you could feel yourself getting wetter, juices starting to dribble out of you as you picked up the pace.

“You may come darling.” Alex purred, “but if you do that doesn’t mean you’re done, you still have seventeen minutes.”

“S..so good..” You moaned, fingers thrusting deeper into you with each flick of your wrist, you were so incredibly close, your pussy fluttering around your fingers. It was never going to be enough, you knew that, but at least for the time being you could sit on the edge of the peak, hoping that there was a chance you’d be able to fall over it. Your noises were getting louder, including the wet sounds coming from your pussy, juices coating your fingers and slipping down to your wrist. Your free hand moved back to your chest, pinching at your nipples again in hopes that it would help you see stars. At this point you were scarcely aware of the sound of movement from the foot of the bed until Alex let out a breathy moan and your eyes shot open.

She had her legs spread in the chair, her hand in her underwear as it moved lazily underneath the fabric, when your breath caught in your throat her eyes cracked open, a grin on her cheeks as she noticed you watching, your own hand stilled.

“What can I say? I like what I see.” She smirked, “and look at what you’re doing to me already?” She sighed, her eyes closing briefly and you could hear her wetness as she slipped a finger into her pussy.

“Fuck…”

“Keep going sweetheart.” She nodded at you, “how about you spread that pussy nice and open for me, let me see how gorgeous you are?”

“Yes ma’am.” Your fingers slid out, your palm rubbing at your cunt briefly as you ground down on it, letting out a small moan before it slid up, fingers framing your pussy lips and pulling them apart. Alex let out a hum of approval, her mouth watering at the way it was absolutely shimmering in the low light of the hotel room.  

“So fucking gorgeous.” She groaned, “I’ll admit though, it does look prettier stuffed with my cock, don’t you think?”

“Yes!” You cried back in response and she chuckled.

“Shame. Your fingers will have to do. Twelve minutes left.”

You let out a whine but slipped your fingers back into your pulsing cunt, eyes scrunching shut as you began to fuck yourself again.

Alex sighed softly, the tips of her fingers grazing her g-spot right as you let out a moan and she pulled her fingers out, returning to lazily rubbing her clit while she watched the way your body trembled every so often. You were absolutely soaking, practically every thrust of your hand pulled a whimper from your mouth and if she wasn’t so heart set on punishing you she would’ve wanted to devour you in that moment. You always looked so fucking hot for her, but especially when you were fucking yourself, imagining that it was her fingers thrusting in and out of your drenched pussy. Her teeth sunk into her lip when her fingers pressed harder onto her clit and with a soft moan her fingers slipped back into her pussy.

“Are you close sweetheart?” She asked, her voice low and husky, words split by breathy sighs.

“Need more.” You whined in response and she chuckled darkly, the laugh morphing into a moan as her fingers curled inside her cunt.

“Just keep going.” She urged, feeling the heat building within her, she resisted the urge to let her eyes close, staying focussed on the movement between your legs instead, groaning at the sounds coming from you as you fucked yourself faster. The heel of her hand began to grind against her clit with each thrust of her fingers and she arched forward, her thighs tensing as she cried out, her orgasm hitting her.

The sound was almost enough to get you where you wanted… almost. Instead you were left letting out a frustrated whine, pulling your fingers from you with an annoyed huff.

“Please!”

“Please, what?” Alex asked, cocking a brow in your direction.

“Need more.” You grumbled and she glanced to the clock.

“Nine minutes left darling, then I’ll touch you.”

“What about a toy?” You pouted.

“I didn’t happen to bring one of those.” She shrugged, watching you carefully and she caught the way your eyes looked toward your go bag, lingering on it for a moment as you tugged your lip into your mouth. Her head tilted in curiosity and it was when she stood that your eyes darted back to her.

The blush crept up your cheeks as you watched her silently move through the room to the bag. She swiftly unzipped it, her hands sifting through its contents until she found what she was looking for, revealing the double sided dildo and she looked toward you with a brow raised.

“Really? You have the time to pack this, but not an appropriate bra?” Her voice hardened slightly, in a tone that you knew was practically a tease and you resisted covering your face with your hands. “I almost think I shouldn’t let you use it.”

“No! Please!” You cried out, tears of frustration pooling into your eyes, “I need it. Or you.” You pouted, and Alex’s face softened.

“Oh you sweet thing.” Grinning she approached the foot of the bed, “you’ve become so spoiled you can’t make yourself come anymore, is that it?” You nodded, your cheeks feeling hotter than any part of your body as you admitted it. You started to shift to close your legs, suddenly feeling very exposed but Alex’s free hand closed around your ankle.

“Ah.” She tutted, “absolutely none of that. You don’t get to act like an exhibitionist all day just to play shy now.” She dropped the toy on the bed beside your hand, “eight minutes left. You best make the most of it.”

“Thank you.” You murmured, your hand darting out for the toy, picking it up. You watched for a moment as Alex’s eyes darted from it to your lips and you smiled coyly at her.

Instead of instantly bringing it to your fluttering pussy, you brought the larger end of the toy to your lips, easily wrapping around it, moaning as you sunk it into your mouth. You sucked hard, tongue swirling around it’s girth until drool was practically leaking out of your lips and Alex’s breath was catching in her throat at the sight. Pulling it from your mouth with a pop you let out a gasp of breath, quickly moving the toy to your cunt.

“Seven…” Alex stated, her hands closed around your calves, spreading them as wide as she could on the bed, kneeling between them as she watched the way you slid the dildo into you with a satisfied moan.

You were finally stretched out, finally feeling Alex’s fingers on your skin and you almost felt like you could burst.

“Fuck…” You groaned, feeling your cunt pulse around the toy as you fucked it deeper into you, aching to hit your peak. Your head dropped back into the pillows as your eyes scrunched shut, your thighs slowly starting to shake with each push of the toy.

“So pretty when you fuck yourself darling. I should make you do this more often.” Alex cooed, her hands suddenly left your body but you were too far gone to care, not realizing she was ridding herself of her bra, beginning to cup at her chest. “be louder for me, how does that feel?”

“So good… fuck!” You panted, fire burning just under your skin, “but need more…”

“Dirty girl…” she chuckled, “what ever shall we do with you?” You felt her weight shift from the bed and your eyes cracked open, a frustrated whine escaping your lips once more as your hand nearly stilled between your legs, stalling your orgasm once more.

“Just wanna come…”

“I know sweet girl.” She squeezed at your leg before her hands slipped into the waist band of her panties and she pulled them down your leg, “but that toy has double uses… you’re going to come while riding my cock, understand?”

“Yes!” You practically shrieked, earning a laugh from Alex as she crawled over you.

You let out a very satisfied moan as she leant over you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, her tongue surging into your mouth to silence your noises. Her skin was hot on yours, rubbing against your aching nipples, her hands ghosting up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their paths. Her teeth sunk into your lip and you whimpered, your hips rocking up toward her, the toy brushed her pussy and she broke the kiss with a breathy gasp.

“Oh that does feel good.” She husked, smirking down at you before her lips attacked your neck, kissing at the supple skin before her teeth bit down hard and you gasped. “Need to leave a mark sweetheart. A nice big one if I have my way.” Her tongue swiped over your skin, “make sure the entire team knows that you really are a little dirty girl, that it’s not all for show. Because you’re not a tease, now are you?”

“N..no.” You moaned, your pussy clenching around the toy when her teeth sunk into your skin, her mouth sucking the crook of your neck and you could feel yourself building back toward your peak.

As if Alex could sense it, she bit your neck again, tongue darting out to soothe the burn when you hissed in pain, kissing the spot softly before her and snuck between your bodies to line the toy up with her cunt. She let out a low moan as she sunk down onto it, and you mewled when the base between the two sides bumped at your clit once she was fully seated. She firmly wrapped her arms around your waist, holding you tight to her and rolled over, pulling you on top of her. Alex kissed you, tongue swiping into your mouth once more before she pulled back, pushing at your shoulders with a wild gleam in her eye.

“Well, go ahead. Make yourself come all over my cock like the good dirty girl you are.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You braced your hands on her waist, raising your hips up to begin to bounce on her cock, breathless moans leaving your lips with each time your hips met hers, the toy pressing against your clit with each thrust. Alex’s hands slid up your thighs, her touch sending sparks flying through your body, she groped at your ass, squeezing you, urging you to ride her harder, faster, making the toy move within her more, the base rubbing her clit just as she wanted.

“Feels good,” she panted, “doesn’t it sweetheart?”

“S- soo good.” You whined back, “m’ so close…” With each pump of your hips her cock grazed right over the sensitive spot in your pussy, your walls pulsing around it, juices slicking it with wet. The coil in the pit of your stomach returned fire prickling under your skin and heat soared through you. “Oh god… oh god…”

“That’s it… come for me sweet girl.” Alex cooed, one of her hands slid up your body, fingers delicately wrapping around your neck, thumb nail pressing into the mark she’d left earlier and you gasped.

Your hips began to move more erratically as you chased your release, feeling yourself right on the brink. You were about to open your lips to beg, but Alex could always read you like a book, her free hand moving between your legs where she began to rub circles on your throbbing clit. Electricity shot through you and you cried out, your eyes scrunching shut as white took over your vision, your body trembled, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you finally hit your high. Your hands dug into Alex’s sides, nails scratching at her skin while you shuddered, your hips stilling when she finally let up on your clit.

“Good girl.” She purred, letting go of your throat, her hands rubbing up and down your sides, guiding you to gently drop over her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “Always so gorgeous.” She pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, fingers tracing patterns on your back while you slowly came back to earth to catch your breath. “You feel better now sweetheart?”

“Yes.” You murmured, lips brushing against her skin and she gently hoisted you off her, tossing the toy to the bedside table to be dealt with later.

“You think you’ve learnt your lesson? No more showing off what’s mine to everyone else, right?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded and Alex smiled.

“Good.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at the already purpling mark in the crook of your neck, it was high enough she knew you wouldn’t be able to cover it tomorrow. Even if you got slightly embarrassed, there would be no mistaking by anyone on the team, you were very much spoken for.

_____________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @evilregal2002 2 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @allyofcl @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me

[potatoqueensays]

hey u shoudl iek,,,, tootally tlak about that reverve falls au rehash you said you were amking,...... for like.,.,,, totally no reason,,,,,,, yeah,,,,,,,,, dont mind the voice recorder dont mind it im not the fbi wdym we;re in an interrogation room what gaslighting isnt a thing ure tripping anyways

HI!!! HI HI HI!!!! ANON HELLO!!!!

...So yes!!! I am working on a teensy weensy little rehashing of the Reverse Falls au. I'm sure as we all know, the original is a bit....outdated so to say. What with suspicious art and some questionable decisions here and there.

I'm not saying mine is better! No way no how, I'm absolutely sure there's a bunch of people out there with something better. This is just a little thing I'm working on with a friend of mine ( @danklemckspankle ) and how we would imagine a reverse falls au. Rather than it being low-key swapping personalities, it swaps roles as it should. And I'd like to think the premise is exciting as well! It makes me very very happy to talk about it as it's been plaguing my mind for a week or two. Tbh ever since book of bill came out....

So!! Lemme talk about it a little!!! I hope you're ready for a little mystery wink wink

Ahem. So! Our little story starts in a little shack called "The Shack of Telepathy"!! (So original yeah I know)

Bud Gleeful is the shack owner, living as a single father with his son Gideon Gleeful. Bud makes money by being a tourist trap, grabbing people in under the premise of reading their minds! (Gravity falls people are just easy to read but shhh don't tell Toby)

Gideon is a little 9 year old with a heart of gold and full of promise. It's a new summer in Gravity Falls and he has big plans! He wants to have the best adventure he can, and hopefully get a new badge on his vest!!

Yes, this little guy wants to be a boy scout!! Unfortunately, there is no chapter in Gravity Falls, so he's gonna have to make one himself!

Here's my little drawing ref of Gideon. Look at him, he's so squishable

With his dad's pin machine, he makes badges whenever he does something good or a big accomplishment! (His pride and joy badge is the one he made with his dad on Father's Day :] )

He really wants to have a good summer. He hopes, by golly, he hopes.

Now a neighborhood down, is town darling Pacifica Northwest. Her family isn't as rich in this as canon, so her family sits as upper middle class at most. Modern suburbia yk? Her family wants to set an example for the people of Gravity Falls, taming the weirdness out or whatever they say.

Pacifica just wants a summer where she can have a little relief. Away from the eye of her parents and the public. Just one day where she can be herself!

Little drawing ref of Pacifica. She still wears a bunch of makeup. (Just....maybe one less powdering. Maybe.) Also she's 12.

So she goes walking in town while her parents are busy planning their big weekly barbeque or whatever. She comes across this kid named Gideon. He compliments her sense of style and makes an offhanded comment about making a badge or something.

Now Pacifica, despite however much her parents influence her, starts her own trends and styles. (With the permission of her parents) So when this kid compliments her she goes on a (grateful) rant and they hit it off!

Gideon tells her about his dad's shack, and all the business business business Bud does. Pacifica talks about her parents planning events every week and, begrudgingly, church. They scurry off into the woods to just explore, and be kids!

On their way as Gideon is messing around with nature, they come across this metal tree. Weird, huh. They do some digging around and press buttons, when a crater opens in the ground!! Pacifica goes to check it out, pushing Gideon back in case of danger.

What they see is a journal! Very dusty and cobwebbed, but a journal with the number 3 painted on it. They pick it up and peruse through it. Pacifica is skeptical at first, wondering if it's part of any tourist trap Gideon's dad planned. When Gid says no, they realize the journal mayyyy have some merit. With how weird Gravity Falls is all the time and the little things that happen here and there, the author of this journal could be telling the truth.

So when they go back to the shack, the talk about the journal and what it could mean.

Now I haven't planned too far ahead to make a full writing of each episode, barely even the pilot, but! This is the gist of it in my head.

As you know, yes I mentioned Ford was evil! And I'm keeping a little of the previous reverse falls lore for this (surrounding the pines. Other things will be different!)

Maybe I'll make a post talking about the pines, but y'know. I just wanna talk about the general feeling I have for it in my head.

Have a bonus doodle of Gideon reading the journal (for an author who doesn't deserve it)

I'm very excited to work on this. Mayyyybe I'll share a bit of the roles with you that are swapped. Juuuust to keep interest ;)

Bud -> Stan

Stan -> Mixture of Pacifica and Gid's parents

Pacifica & Gideon -> The mystery twins ofc

Wendy -> Robbie

Soos -> Dude he's just himself here. Soos is perfection and cannot be interchanged (he goes undercover for Stan and works at the shack every other day. Undercover name is Deuce because of that one guy that looked like him 👍)

Shitty discord whiteboard sketch of Soos :]

Ford -> Bill tbh. How else is he gonna be so evil?

I'll probs make another post talking about the pines family, but I'd like to make colored refs of them first y'know?

I hope this catches your interest. Other characters are reeeeally integral to the plot and I'd like to keep the mystery just for a little moment 💥💥

Anyway ty for asking I'm so very happy to share this with someone that's not already aware of it 🎉🎉

[daughterofcain-67]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 8)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After Beau and the other officers found nothing, they look for any other way to find you and they block the roads to make sure no one gets out of Helena. Beau is determined to find you before it's too late. He just has to hope that 'too late' never comes.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: shooting (during a chase scene), mention of Y/N's r@pe, stabbing, nothing graphic. I think that should be everything.

Previously

When Beau finally found the entrance to the basement he couldn’t help but feel at least a little relieved. He busted the door down but what he saw was not what he was hoping for.

“No…”

You were nowhere to be found! The handcuffs were lying on the floor, the chains that kept you there were empty.

“Beau, no one is here.” Jenny said when she found him.

Then it was like the walls around Beau were crumbling down. He didn’t know what else he was supposed to do so Beau ended up punching the wall in front of him. He punched it so hard he was positive he might’ve busted the skin on his knuckles.

“Damn it!”

Now

This couldn't be happening...

Beau had to be dreaming. They were so damned close to finding you and just when everything was in place, you were just.. gone? His officer's were quick to get to this blasted place, how did Andre's men move so fast?

Beau's head was spinning as he walked out of the basement empty handed. When he made it outside, he told one of the officer's to take Andre down to the station so they could get him booked. They had more than enough to hold him and he was sure Agent Sampson had more evidence to solidify his arrest.

When he ran his fingers through his hair, Beau felt a hand on his shoulder. When he looked and saw who it was, he tried not to be so tense when he realized that it was just Jenny with one of those empathetic looks on her face.

"We'll find her, Beau. We've got Andre and maybe we'll get some answers from him." She tried to reassure but Beau knew it wouldn't be easy. Then Agent Sampson came up.

"Speaking of holding Andre... Beau, I think it would be wise if you didn't interview him when we get to the station." He said, and Beau glanced over it him with his brows narrowing slightly.

"Why the Hell wouldn't I interview him? I'm the Sheriff of this town, remember?" He asked.

"Yeah, and I'm the FBI Agent handling this case and I have jurisdiction on this one. You're lucky I even let you get as involved as you are, despite your interest in this case. Or did you forget about that?" Sampson reminded.

At this, Beau went quiet. He knew Sampson was right and he may have blown things by getting angry. But when Andre admitted to him what he did, and so haughtily too, Beau couldn't help losing his cool.

"Arlen, as much as I like you, I really don't think he'd give you any answers you want after your, um... confrontation. Something tells me it was a little more than evading arrest or self defense. Do you really think he would willingly cooperate with a guy that just kicked his ass and got him arrested in the first place?"

"I get it, okay? I messed up. But at least we've got him and we're taking him down to the station." Beau said as he started taking off the bulletproof vest and he tossed it inside of his car.

"Beau, what did Andre admit to you? Maybe we can add that additional charge to everything if we have the right evidence." Jenny said, trying to uplift things a little before the sheriff got too discouraged.

"Trust me, we don't have the right evidence yet." He said.

"What makes you say that?" The agent questioned, then Beau explained what exactly Andre said that made Beau lose it for a moment.

"Andre... he admitted to assaulting Y/N. We don't have any evidence yet because we still haven't found her yet, and it's not like I got a recording of his confession. So I'm not sure effective that'll be while we hold him."

"Holy cow..." She breathed out, "I can't imagine going through something like that..."

"But it is an additional charge. Once we find Y/N, we'll do a rape kit and use those results as evidence against him." Agent Sampson agreed.

"Let's get to the station and see if we can get some answers. Maybe we can still get surveillance on other vehicles. I told officers to keep an eye on any other cars that were at this location for the past few days so maybe we'll be able to find out who left this place and-"

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Beau asked, "Have you heard anything back? Has anyone called anything in?"

"Not yet, which is all the more reason t get out of here." Sampson continued.

So that was exactly what everyone did.

Beau got into his truck and started driving down to the station to get some kind of info an any of the other people that happened to be there. Maybe they would still have some time to get some roads blocked off before you'd be gone for good. They were running out of time and Beau wanted to make sure they were doing everything in their power to get you back.

Once they made it back to the station, Beau went to Poppernack's desk and saw him there already typing away at any surveillance footage they could get.

"What do you have for me, Poppernack." Beau said.

The deputy looked a little shocked that Beau was using his real name this time around, but he also knew now wasn't the time to linger on his surprise as he focused on the screen in front of him, "Naturally we've got Andre's truck whenever he left to go see you, Boss. But I'm assuming right after Andre's chat with you he must've made the call to the people on the inside."

Beau took a look on the screen and sure enough, another vehicle came by. It was a large, black van and Beau could see two men carrying you by your arms. You were fighting as best as you could but you ended up in the back of that van and the doors slammed shut.

The two men got into the van and then a woman stepped out, she was on the phone looking like she was making some kind of arrangements while she started heading to some kind of silver hybrid.

"How long ago did they leave?" Beau asked.

"About ten minutes before we all arrived." Poppernack answered.

"Ten minute head start... That doesn't give them a whole lot of time so maybe we can get to them. Zoom in on both their plates and track them down. Start looking for where both the cars went and send people to block the roads leaving town." The Sheriff said as he straightened up.

"On it Boss."

With that, Beau walked towards the interrogation room. He may not be able to interview Andre, but he could at least watch and see what would come of all of this. He wanted to know what kind of progress they would be able to make and see how cooperative Andre would actually be with this.

"Sheriff, I don't think you're supposed to be here." One of the officers said and Beau looked over.

"I'm not interviewing the guy, I'm simply an observer. This is still my department." He reminded, even if the position is supposedly temporary.

When he looked through the window, he saw Andre sitting there with the most arrogant posture. It was as if he really thought they couldn't get anything on him, and that drove Beau crazy.

"Look, we just want to know where Y/N is. And after your little confession to the sheriff, we know you know where she is." Agent Sampson spoke and Andre cocked a brow.

"I knew where she was back where she was still held in the basement. I wouldn't know where she's headed now." Andre said as he leaned back into the chair.

"But we know you can find out. Better yet, you can give us the names of the people that have taken Y/N." The agent continued and he leaned over and he placed a file on the table top. He slid three pictures in front of Andre.

"These people, your family members, I know you're involved with them. We know you go by the King, your sister is the Queen, a little cousin of yours, Matvey, is Ace. Then you've got another man coming in as the Jack." He began, "We also know that you've kept your hands clean up to this point and you've let people like Ace take the fall. Are you really willing to screw all of that up?"

"From the way I see it, and from the way your Sheriff friend was so determined to get me here, I'd say it's already my time to go to jail, yes? So why would I help you?"

"Come on, Andre. You act like FBI haven't made deals before."

"If you wanna cut a deal, talk to my lawyer."

Beau's jaw clenched at the mere idea of striking a deal with a scumbag like Andre. He was trying his best to bite his tongue for this. He crossed his arms over his chest and listened.

You stared down at your wrists. They were bound yet again, just after you thought you were free from the handcuffs, they put you in zip ties. It didn't feel that great against the wounds you had on your wrists after getting out of those cuffs. Now these zip ties gave you no wiggle room to try and get out of them.

You leaned your back against the wall of the van since the seats were taken out of this thing. So many thoughts were swirling in your mind.

How would Beau find you now? How would he be able to track you down now? What if they didn't know the plates of these vehicles? What if they would be too late again? What if you would never see Beau or Cadence again?

What if you really would be sent out of the country and end up with a lifetime of torture with whatever trafficking circle you'd be sold to?

What if there wasn't any hope left after all?

You lifted your bound hands and put them to your face, palms pressing against your eyes as if you were trying to wake yourself up from this nightmare. Where did it all go wrong?

You wished you hadn't gone on that date with Andre, especially if you would have known his involvement with this group. You wished you would have been smarter about everything.

The one thing you could say you did somewhat right, was get Jenny to do some kind of background check on Andre. And even then, who knew if Andre would get out of this with his reputation unscathed? The chances of him having to deal with any consequences was highly unlikely, much to your dismay.

"I can't believe we're in this fucking mess because of this chick." Jack said, causing you to lift your face from the palms of your hands and you notice his gaze on you was dark, unforgiving. You didn't think he would be the type to kill you though - it seemed more Ace's speed.

"You just had to go and scream out on King's phone call. What a bitch." He glared at you.

"Yeah, yeah. She's the source of today's problems. But you know King. He can't resist the ladies. If they resist him then... well there's one more sold off." Ace said, never taking his eyes off the road since he was the one driving the car.

Wait, Andre's done this to multiple girls? How many times has he done this and not gotten caught? How many girls were suffering because of him? Would they ever get any justice?

"Son of a bitch..." Ace grumbled and started to put on the brakes, "Gag her and put her away. We can't have her loud mouth alerting anyone."

"Ace? What's happening? What's going on?" Jack asked.

"Traffic on this highway's turning around. This road's blocked so we need to find another way out. Gag her incase they're doing a search and put the blankets on her or something."

The next thing you knew, Jack put some duct tape over your mouth and he pushed you down, pulling a knife out and pointed it at you.

"If you get up, make a sound, or do anything that will get us caught, I will slice your throat." Jack told you, and seeing as you didn't want to piss him off you simply complied.

All you could think of that you could do was just close your eyes. When they closed, you focused on the blackness surrounding you and you just tried to get lost in different thoughts, anything to distract you from the current situation.

But nothing positive came to mind. All you could think of were all of the 'what ifs' that repeated in your mind like a broken record.

"Hello, Officers. How can we help you?" You could hear Ace ask.

"The roads are closed off and we're looking for a girl. We're going to have to search your vehicle before we allow you to turn around." An officer said.

That sounded so hopeful! If they were searching the cars, then the officers would find you and then you would be free from all of this! You could go home!

You stayed still because you didn't know if Jack was still next to you ready to strangle you if you made any movement, but you could hear the doors of the van open. The next few sounds horrified you...

Gunshots rang out from inside the van and you could only imagine from beneath the blanket covering you, that Jack was the one pulling the trigger. While this was going on, you felt yourself being tossed around the back of the van and you could hear the screech of burning rubber, knowing Ace must be making some kind of U-turn to get out of there.

The blanket fell and you could see Jack getting up to shut the back of the van before the cops could shoot the inside. You carefully sat up and you wondered if the cops would be able to catch this van, if Beau had other officers on the watch for you.

You lifted your hands and took off the tape since its not like they remembered to have your hands behind you. You winced a little since it stung when the tape was ripped off your skin, almost like a band-aid. When you leaned forward to try and look out through the windshield, you saw your surroundings and knew they were headed to some back roads.

But if they're going through the back roads, that means there are no security cameras. And if there are no cameras, how would Beau be able to track the vehicle?

Soon enough the car came to a stop.

"Ace? What the Hell are you doing? This wasn't a part of the plan." Jack said with a slightly panicky tone.

"Well the roads shutting down wasn't exactly in the plan either, now was it? Get her out." Ace said as he got out of the driver's seat.

They were ditching the vehicle. Right here and now?

Jack pulled you by your arm and dragged you out of the back of the van and you could feel the rocks and twigs against your bare feet.

"We're going on foot from here since the roads are blocked. Send a message to Queen." Ace said.

"I don't think there's any cell reception from here but I'll give it a shot." Jack said and pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

As Jack was distracted, you bit your lip as an idea formulated in your mind. It was a long shot and you didn't know if you had the physical strength to do this, but you had to try something.

So with all of your might, you elbowed Jack in the side which caused him to drop his device. When you moved to try and make an escape, Ace grabbed one of your arms. You took your hands and formed them into fists so you ended up punching him with both fists and you watched Ace cover his nose.

"Ah, you bitch!" Ace snarled, although it came out muffled.

You looked and Jack was running towards you, and you ran back to the van looking for anything you could use to help with your self defense and that was when you saw the blade that Jack must've dropped earlier when Ace made that turn-around.

You picked it up and you aimed it at Jack.

"Now you don't actually know how to use that thing, sweetheart. How 'bout you give it here before you do something stupid, huh?" Jack said and you clenched your jaw.

"You stay away from me before you get yourself hurt." You said back.

"Why you little-"

When Jack lunged forward, you had an overwhelming dose of adrenaline rush through you and you ended up stabbing him somewhere in the abdomen. You hoped that you didn't kill him, since you didn't want murder on your conscience, but it was clearly enough to get Jack to back off.

You could hear his scream from the pain he was feeling and he grabbed his side and leaned against the van. You kept the knife in your hands that were still tied and you hopped out of the car. But you still had Ace to deal with.

Ace came at you and tackled you to the ground and you landed on your back and it knocked the wind out of you for a moment. But when you realized that Ace was on top of you, it took all of the strength you had to use your legs and you kicked him in the groin. It was one way to get him off you.

He rolled over in pain and you turned around, scrambling to get up again. Then you took the gun that was in Ace's belt, you used the butt end of it and knocked Ace out.

While you were finally catching your breath, you looked over and saw that Jack was still in the van, losing a lot of blood. You walked over to the van, picked up the blanket and tossed it as best as you could to Jack so he could try and get his own bleeding to stop.

Then you hopped out of the van once more, picked up the knife since you knew you would need it to unzip your wrists. Then you bent down to pick up Jack's phone that was still miraculously unlocked through this whole endeavor.

You quickly dialed up Beau's number since he told you to memorize it just incase. You held the phone up to your ear as best as you could as you rushed off into the woods before Ace would wake up and before Jack could regain any strength.

"Sheriff Arlen. Who's this?"

God you couldn't have been more relieved to hear the sound of his voice.

You just hoped that the reception wouldn’t be too bad where you were and that he would be able to hear you as you went deeper into the woods.

"Beau? It's Y/N..."

Thank you guys so much for reading!

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @chriszgirl92 @nancymcl @fanfic-n-tabulous @globetrotter28

[openheart12]

Spend It With You

A/N: fell down the FBI rabbit hole and i honestly wasn’t expecting to love it enough to write for it but here we are, first time writing for them so i’m still trying to figure out all the characters and i’m just now getting to season 4 so my apologies if i fuck anything up

also i love them as friends and as a couple, i cant choose but this is on the romantic side

song by Kodaline

Warnings: mention of blood, gun shot wound, talk of maybe dying

Summary: An incident in the field leads the two of them to finally confess their feelings.

WC: 950

Bang. 

The resounding bang echoed through the woods as she fell to her knees, clutching her side. When she pulled her hand back, it was covered in blood. The bullet had exploited the weakness of the vest and left her vulnerable. 

“Maggie, what the hell was that?” OA asked through her ear piece. The two had separated to run after the perp, to cut him off. 

“O-Omar…” it was so hard to breathe, that was the only word she could get out. 

He retraced his steps to make his way back to her, his heart racing. ‘Please be okay, please be okay,’ he repeated in his head. The trees blocked his view and as soon as he saw the familiar FBI vest, his heart dropped to his stomach. Running over to her, he saw blood pooling around her abdomen, staining the ground underneath. 

“Agent down, I need an ambo to our location immediately,” he ordered into his ear piece before crouching down to her level. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine,” he promised, brushing the hair out of her face. He inspected her wound that was still heavily bleeding. “I have to take off the vest.”

She nodded weakly. 

Carefully, he removed the vest and applied pressure to the wound. She let out a groan, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Mags, I’m sorry.”

“OA, what’s going on?” Jubal asked. 

“Maggie was shot. How far out is the ambulance?”

“At least another fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Dammit, I told you we needed back up out here.” “They’ll be there, did you get the suspect?” “No, Miller’s in the wind. Last seen headed north. And Jubal, get that ambulance here as soon as possible.” He lowered his voice so Maggie couldn’t hear, “she’s losing a lot of blood.”

“OA… give it to me straight, how bad is it?” She asked, trying to even her breathing. 

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I… I don’t wanna die,” she cried, a lone tear trailing down her cheek.

He moved positions so that he had her head laying in his lap, taking his coat and putting it over her abdomen. “Hey, I’m right here and I’m not letting anything happen to you. You just gotta stay with me, alright.”

“I’m so tired.” Her eyes kept fluttering closed, no matter how hard she tried to keep them open. 

“What do you wanna eat tonight?” He asked out of no way. 

Opening her eyes, she glanced at him. “I have no idea.”

“Whatever you want, I’m buying.”

“That’s tempting,” she laughed softly before grimacing at the pain that tore through her stomach. “OA… if I don’t make it, I need to tell you something.”

“Don’t talk like that Maggie, please,” he begged, he couldn’t imagine it. She was his partner, his best friend, the woman he loved, but was too afraid to tell.

What he didn’t know was that she harbored the same feelings as him, both too afraid to tell the other for the fear of losing them. Being on the brink of death gave her the push she needed to finally confess. “I know it’s bad timing, but I don’t want to risk it. I love you and I have for a long time.”

“Agent Zidan,” a man’s voice called out, tearing their attention away from each other. Two men came into view carrying a stretcher. 

“Looks like my ride’s here,” she teased. 

The three of them loaded her onto the stretcher, making the long trek back to the ambulance, but he held her hand the entire time. When he tried to get in the back of the ambulance with her, one of the guys stopped him. 

“I’m sorry sir, but she’s gonna have to go straight to surgery when we get to the hospital.” The medic explained.

He was about to protest when Maggie spoke up. “I’ll be okay.” 

Nodding, he squeezed her hand before letting go. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

During her ride to the hospital, she couldn’t help but think she may have screwed everything up between them. 

Some time later, she slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the fluorescent lights in the room. She looked to her right where a beeping noise was coming from to see herself hooked up to the monitor and that’s when she noticed the weight on her legs. OA had fallen asleep, his head perched on her calves. Reaching out, she gently touched his face, his beard rough beneath her fingertips. 

He stirred, opening his eyes. “How are you feeling?” He asked, sitting up and grabbing a hold of her hand. 

“Like I was shot.”

“Annnnd she’s back,” he smiled.

A silence followed after that, there was no taking back what she said earlier and would just have to deal with it.

“Listen, OA, about what I said earlier-”

“If you’re going to tell me you regret it or that it was just in the heat of the moment, I don’t wanna hear it because I waited too long to hear you say that.”

“You did?” To say she was stunned was an understatement. 

“I love you too, Maggie. I was always too scared to tell you, to ruin our friendship or partnership.”

A huge smile broke out across her face. For someone who could’ve died a few hours ago, you never would’ve guessed. “Now what?” She asked.

He leaned up, reaching his hand out to cup her face before leaning in. Giving her a couple seconds to back out if she wanted, instead she closed the distance between them until their lips met. 

It was a short, sweet kiss. When he pulled back, they shared a smile. “Now, we see where things go from here.”

[nexuschampion]

//based on a dream but 99% is not, it was really only the premise. the one dream I have ever had about these two and of course it had to be something like this. Didn't really feel like making a full fledged story though, so here you go.

@accioturtur

"I've got eyes on 'em."

"Good. Keep them there. We've secured the perimeter."

"This is gonna be a long night bros. Get comfy."

Several long, silent minutes went by.

"I Renamed my iPod The Titanic, so when I plug it in, it says 'The Titanic is syncing.'"

"Mikey…this is serious."

"You're too serious bro. This is a cakewalk."

"Waste of our time is what it is."

"Raph, I've told you we have a vested interest in making this meeting go smooth. We need what's in that vault and this is our only chance to get close to it with the person who has access. We have to take advantage of the chaos."

"I don't care either way I'm just bored. You guys know we're not the only ones sneaking around here right?"

"We know Mikey. A lot of people have a lot of interest in this one way or the other."

"Did the CIA ask you to chime in on this Leo? FBI? Why are these other people here?"

"Ha ha. Common sense Raph."

"Leo's right guys. It's really important that this goes well."

"Suuuuure Donnie. If you say so."

"I count at least 4 other groups here watching. Two are solo. There is a reaaaaaally cute lady over on the west side. And she's aloooone."

"Focus Mikey."

"10-4 bro. Fun mode off."

Hours later Mikey shook his head violently back and forth in an effort to stay awake. He glanced at all the others, all holding their positions, bored out of his mind. The woman that had caught his attention earlier hadn't moved an inch. Her committment was impressive. In his head he imagined she was a highly trained government black ops official. Maybe she was hired by another government to make sure the meeting went smooth. Or maybe didn't. After hours of watching he'd invented an entire back stories for all the other covert operants. It wasn't until there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere that he narrowed his attention to his actual task.

"Something's happening"

"I don't see anything here. What is it?"

"I'm going to get closer."

"Roger that Mike. Let us know."

Mikey checked their counterparts, but none seemed to be on the alert to what he had heard. Perhaps he was being overly cautious or maybe he'd just heard an animal, but he didn't think so. He silently slipped closer to the main meeting area, where all the officials were still convened even though it was well past midnight. He peeked into a window that he had no business peeking into given the level of security, and saw the problem.

"Guys, we've got a breech. We've got a breech right now. Someone must have infiltrated the inside and is actively taking them all hostages. We have a red alert guys!"

He peeked in again. It appeared to be a very subtle operation. They weren't being violent or even threatening to the members beyond waving a gun at them. To be expected, he supposed, since the people in the room had a lot of leverage for their countries. They were very valuable commodities, and everyone knew it and probably expected it.

"No immediate danger guys. This is a long game play."

"On our way."

Mikey checked their counter-parts again. The woman seemed to have caught wind of the action. The others, not so much. Judging by her reactions though, she was likely in a simlar position to them - looking to keep things on track rather than interfere.

"I'm going in. We need someone on the inside."

"Be careful Mike."

"When has this charming personality not been able to win anyone over, even an terrorist? Come on, I know what people want to hear."

"Be careful."

**********************

"Hey there!"

He immediately found the barre of a gun pointed at his nose. He'd easily snuck in, and right up the guy. He wasn't talkative though, so Mikey did it for him.

"I can imagine you have quite the grand scheme planned here. You're not the only one but I'm sure you know that. Or maybe all of them" he waved his finger around "are part of your little operation. I don't really care to be honest."

The man, clearly caught off guard enough by what he was to not immediately pull the trigger, just stared at him so he continued.

"So, I think we can help."

"We don't need any help, who the fuck are you?"

"Doesn't matter nearly as much as what I am. I'm not interested in any of this. Don't care about money, any of these guys, except one that we need just for a quick conversation. This was an opportunity for us to get what we want and I think that makes it important to us that you succeed, to keep us as much under the radar as possible."

"I have no idea who or what you are but I am not looking for help. We have planned this for over 6 months."

"Oh, good for you! We just got wind of this thing a couple of weeks ago."

The man cocked his gun, still pointed at his face.

"That is a very small gun for all this isn't it? Your people must be massively armed outside this room. You know, I know you want to pull the trigger to get rid of me, so go ahead and try."

"What, are you bullet proof?" His voice betrayed his unease.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Never know until you . . ."

It was only a split second, but Mikey eaily caught the slight tension in his finger and smoothly grabbed his arms to disarm him, flipped the gun around and holding it to his forehead.

"We are way better at this than any of you. We could easily take out your whole team and no one would even know what happened and you'd be left here high and dry. That wouldn't be very wise of you considering I doubt this little thing will work for very long."

He spin the gun on his finger and grabbed it by the barrel, handle toward the terrorist for the taking. He took it, desperately trying to quell his tremors.

"We are only interested in something else at this facility, but we need access through this room. You ignore us, and you'll get the benefit of us on the outside along with your own people, making sure no one is the wiser."

The man slowly nodded. The confrontation had been out of nowhere. His weapon had been taken and returned with an expert ease. His team on the outside hadn't intervened. There really wasn't a choice.

*************************(

We're in guys. I don't know what their plan or reason is, but they will let us move around freely to figure it out.

"How did you…?"

"I lied Leo. I made up some shit about helping them and proved we aren't to be messed with. What else is there to do?''

"Mikey, you really need to consult the rest of us before you pull stunts like that."

"10-4 fearless."

**********************?

"Hi!"

The woman flinched in surprise, but not by much. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Same as you, I think. When I saw you come in here I took the chance. I think we have a mutal interest in usurping this little unatuhorized get together."

"I'm tasked with making sure this goes smooth, and it's not. This is not a game, the most powerful people in the world are in there."

"Obviously."

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Truce? None of us want this little swaray to go wrong."

"I have a job to do and I don't need help."

"REAALLLYYY?"

"Really."

Mikey hummed. "Ok so the fact that I already went in there and got to know our guy, means nothing? In fact, he said the same thing. They don't need help either."

"I know. I saw."

"So Mr. Terrorist who thinks he can take all these super important wierdos hostage? He's cool with me, thinks I'm on his side. Means nothing to you?

"No, I mean…yes. But no. For all I know you're with them, even with that stunt you pulled."

Mikey thought about his approach for a moment. "So, Not even a little surprised to see a walking, talking, giant turtle? You're a tough nut to crack."

She looked over at him, taking in him in his entirety before returning to the scope in her rifle with no reaction. "I hadn't noticed."

Mikey narrowed his eyes at her, then smirked. "Wow, I dont know if should take that as a compliment or an insult. But sure. You didn't notice. Look, I've got a free ticket in and out of there which is what we need, but we can't handle this without some outside help."

"We?"

"My team. Brothers. I'm the cute one by the way, and the funny one. There are three other teams here too. One is solo like you, the other with at least two. The one with four has to be in on this but they haven't moved yet."

For the first time she lowered her weapon and properly looked at him. "You're serious."

"As much as I can be, which isn't a lot."

"What do you want?"

"There something in that building that one of them has access to in the vault. Unrelated to any of this and I guarantee you woudn't care about it. We were gonna corner him at some point, away from the crowd, but this whole situation defintely puts a damper on our plan. What about you?"

She shrugged. "I don't ask questions other than 'how much'. I'm here to make sure this" she waved her hand in frustrtaion at the building "is successful."

"Well then it seems we really do have a common goal. We could care less about anything going on here, it was just convenient for us, but we don't particularly care for this kind of nonsense either so we'd be happy to help your cause. We're kinda good at this sort of thing."

"Ok. What do you need from me?"

He handed her a radio to tuck in her ear. "I need you to contact whatever police are around here, and help us coordinate getting them here unnoticed, and to stay out of the way until we can get these guys in a position where the good guys can pretend like they did all the work. As much as I think the world is missing out, it doesn't need to know we exist. You can take all the credit for yourself."

"Why me and not one of the others?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. You stood out. I like that."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but grinned. "Ok, I'll take this risk but I don't trust you. I'm Shadow. May I know the name of my mysterious suitor?"

"Michelangelo. Mikey for short. My brothers are Leo, Raphael and Donatello."

"I assume Leo is short for Leonardo?"

Mikey returned her grin. "I knew you were smart."

**************************

Mikey winced from the punch one of their foes landed and sat back against the wall. "Three down. You're pretty impressive. You know, for a human."

"And you're pretty cute. For a turtle."

"So, since we have a few minutes to get to know each other, who hired you?"

"Telling you would be a sure way to end up dead. Who hired you?"

"No one."

"That's suspicious as hell."

"Talk to my brothers about it. I'm just here."

"You just do what you're told?"

Mikey paused. "No. But I have no reason to question them about this particular gig. What about you?"

"Money speaks but I prefer the jobs that don't ask for assasination."

"Dark. You've got some nice moves by the way."

He caught a hint of a smile. "So do you."

"Don't I know it." He paused, listening. "Dude is suspicious, I'll be right back."

*******************************

"Everything is in place. Just a few more minutes."

"Yup. We couldn't have done this without you. I hope we get to collab again."

"I wouldn't mind."

"I wouldn't mind a collab with just the two of us."

"Are you asking me out? During a terrorist kidnapping?"

"Would you say yes?"

"I might not say no."

******************************

Shadow stood behind the four of them, surprised they hadn't kicked her out to conduct their business in private. "You did all this, for that?"

Mikey turned his attention back to her and smiled. "Surprised?"

"A little, yeah. Or a lot, actually. Who are you guys?"

"We're just a family who doen't care for crimes against humanity." Don answered, handing Leonardo a package. "Usually we keep it local but we've been known to expand our scope when the situation calls for it."

"Thank you sir." Mikey turned to an older businessman, dressed in light blue suit that was wrinkled from 24 hours held in captivity. "You did the right thing."

He nodded. "I will keep your secret, if you keep your end of the bargain."

"Oh we will. Let's move out." Raphael barked.

Mikey paused. "I'll be right there." He turned to Shadow. "I, um, you can wrap all this up if you want. We can't leave until tomorrow so we'll be around for a bit."

"I think I can handle this. Thanks for the help."

He hesitated again. "I really liked spending time with you" he said. "I want to see you again."

"I think I'd like to get to know you a bit better too."

He handed her a small scrap of paper. "Call me. We could start tonight."

*************************

"Thanks for picking up an unknown number."

"I would talk to a 100 scammers if it meant a chance one of them were you."

"I am offering a discount on an extended car warranty, but I'll need some very personal information first."

Mikey reached for her, but stopped midway. "Sorry. My brain catches on a bit slow sometimes."

She hesitated in her response, something he expected and wasn't immediately worried about.

He reached for her again, nudging her chin to look at him. "Would it freak you out if I said I think I want to be more than friends."

She blinked a few times as she mullled it over. "That's bold of you."

"I trust my instincts, and I pay attention. You aren't exactly turned off by me."

"What else are your instincts telling you about me? You have no idea who I really am."

"They're telling me it doesn't matter because I already know what I need to. And to kiss you. Right now."

"Are they?" A humored smile slowly blossomed across her face. "Right now?"

"If you'll let me. If you want to."

She blushed a little, and he wasn't prepared for his own reaction. He had never felt anything so strongly so quicky. "You're amazing Shadow. I just want to . . . see . . ."

She raised herself onto her toes and reached behind his neck to pull him down, inches from her lips. "You can see me just fine."

"I sure as hell can."

The contact from the kiss was all but electrifying and it lasted a long time. When they finally pulled away from each other, Shadow whispered breathlessly, eyes locked on his. "This place is a hotel you know."

"Yeah, it is."

"Shall we?"

"I already have a room. I would like to formally invite you to it."

"Presumptuous."

"I know."

Once they were in the room, nerves squashed by overwhelming desire, they stood face to face in front of the bed. He leaned in to kiss her again only to feel her hands on his shirt, tugging it upward and out of his belt so she could slide her hands underneath and over his plasteron.

He let out a soft sigh and stepped back. She pulled the black sweatshirt up and he finished the job, tossing it on the floor. He chuckled when she let out 'Oh, damn.' as she surveyed the mutant before her.

"What?"

"I think you need to stay like this for now. This is a good look for you."

"Is it?" he grinned and went in for another kiss as he returned the favor by pulling down her pants. Stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, she pulled off her own shirt and went for his belt while he attached himself to her neck.

"Fuck" he whispered.

Shadow paused. "Have you, ever? Done this?"

"Been so incredibly and immediately attracted to someone that I won't need to show you where the keys are to the door? Can't say I have. The sex thing? More or less."

"What?" She grinned up at him in confusion before pulling back the waistband of his pants to peek inside to see his erection starting to buldge through his plasteron. "Oh. . . well then. Lucky me. I think that's a better look than this one." She hummed, looking back up at him, and slowly ran her fingers over his shoulders and forearms. "Barely though. You really are attractive, you know."

He pulled her against his chest. "I don't think I've ever been described that way but I think I like it. So much better than 'aaahhh a monster!'"

His light hearted comment seemed to elicit something in her. She purposefully reached up and took his head between her hands and met his eyes. "You are gorgeous. And you are kind and amazing in every way."

"Careful." His voice wavered and his expression turned into a mix of pain and joy."You're going to make me think I might actually be right about how hot and great I am."

As though she could see right into his soul, she pushed up and lighty kissed him. "You are right. And I think I've seen what I need to see too."

Mikey shuddered when her fingertips trailed back down his neck. His equally gently trail of fingertips led him up her side and over the top of her right breast, then up along her neck. She saved him the trouble of unhooking her bra and it was quickly discarded to the side. He grinned at her, then laughed at her squeak of surprise when he slid his hands under her thighs and picked her up. He lifted her high enough that he was face to face with her chest and took a nipple into his mouth.

"Not wasting any time are you?" she gasped.

He enjoyed himself for another minute before pulling away with a faint pop to rest his chin between her breasts and look up at her.

"No" he beamed up at her. "But I'm a long term kind of guy. This is just that first time baby. I want a taste of you now, hard and fast and delicious, but in a couple hours I am going to get to know you a whole lot more intimately. Slowly."

She hummed eagerly, squeezing her fingernails into his bicep. "I like the sound of that."

"We have all the time in the world, Shadow."

[deaneverafter]

The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep

Sometimes I write opinion piece essays about my thoughts. Sometimes, you get to relive me freaking out through a transcript of my tweets. Cheers, here's to this week's episode 🥂

Ugh, they did not just give me hope that Mark would survive, only to kill him off again! 😱🤦🏻‍♀️ And man, the poor guy was lying there in agony for a whole day? That just...... that hurt

Beau Arlen has my whole heart, he truly does. The way he can find joy in something so little as eating a good sandwich..... how can you not love someone so full of life?

Out of the whole precinct, it's Jenny whom Beau wanted to taste the sandwich he loved, and I am having An Emotion™️* about it 🥺💕 (this is a lie, I'm having a lot of emotions about it)

Beau really said "I will get Jenny to deal with her Tonya beef one way or another, if a direct approach doesn't work, I'll approach it a different way", and I respect that so much

Going to take a moment to say that as much as I dislike Tonya as a person for her backstabbing and criming, as a character, I'm enjoying her new sassy side. She's still my enemy, because if Jenny got beef with you, I got beef with you. But she's funny

Jenny's hair this episode 😍 (Jenny's hair every episode 😍, but this episode particularly was so much hair inspo)

Why is Beau so cute, even doing something as small as getting winded climbing a mountain trail? 🥺 And him being like "yes, this is a tantrum", it's okay, bb, you're entitled to it 💛

I love these reminders of what a badass Jenny is, the way she took down the would-be assassin even though it ended with her on the cell floor, truly iconic, we stan 👑✊🏻

Beau is such a cute dad, but why is Emily so mean and dismissive towards him? We should all be so lucky to have a dad who cares that much, instead of acting annoyed and so uppity about it 🙄

Beau looks so angry dealing with Avery, and all I want out of this storyline is Avery and Carla turning out to be involved in shady things and Beau getting to arrest Avery and Jenny getting to arrest Carla. I want that vindication

Jenny trying to explain what happened whilst he was gone, and Beau really said, yes, it's a mess, but no, you don't need to explain, I trust you and I got your back 🥺✊🏻💕

Beau and Jenny together convincing the guy to go to the government, that they'd protect him, working to protect hundreds of people, that's why they're the best, because they'll both do everything they can to protect people. And then proceeding to go above and beyond sending a tail, effectively thwarting a second attempt at the guy's life, because they care that much and are that good at their jobs

The two sheriffs and their trusty sidekick 🥺👌🏻 Your faves could never 🤷🏻‍♀️

Looks like the stepdad is a snoop too. I see where Emily learned her snooping and eavesdropping tendencies from. I was going to say how does she not know it's wrong, but now we know why 😬🤦🏻‍♀️

I absolutely adore how in sync Beau and Jenny are, entering that house following the whistleblower and the corrupt marshal. They work so well together and they've got each other's backs 🥺✊🏻

No, but you guys don't understand how long I've been waiting to see him in am FBI-esque bullet proof vest...... 🥺🥰🔥💯

The way Jenny gasped his name when she thought he was in danger or something had happened to him..... that wasn't your usual level of "concern for a coworker" 💕👀

The way Beau is such a multifaceted and complex character, a clear example being the way he's such a badass, knocking down doors, but also right after, being so gentle with the witness lady, it has me in my feels 🥺

You mean to tell me that Beau and Jenny stopped at the grocery store to buy housewarming presents for Cassie together? 💕🥺

Beau bringing salt to keep the house protected from demons had me tearing up and beaming at the same time. Dean 💘😭

Beau in one layer, in that cozy shirt 🥰👀😍😎 (That's it, that's the tweet, hashtag, thirsty on main (in my defense, I am sorry, hashtag, take me to jail, Sheriff)

I love how comfortable Beau and Jenny are together on Cassie's couch 🥰🥺💘💕

And I love how comfortable they all are together (the mismatched glasses just add the perfect touch, because it makes it more real that she's just moved in, but also, a callback to movie night) 😌

Jenny trying to be there for Beau when he's clearly upset and worried is something that is so close to my heart (and I look forward to the roles reversing when next episode it's Jenny who's upset and emotional about her mother). But he looked so sad and like he was about to cry, and I- I just want to give him a hug and protect him from all the heartache 😭

Beau with his funny stories and his witty remarks, his compassion and his drive to protect and to be there for his friends and loved ones, and his intelligence and competence, he has my whole heart 💟 And Beau with his sparkling green eyes, and his sun bleached hair and his ruffly haircut 🥺🥰😌❤ He really is the most beautiful human to walk on this earth. I love him so much, if something happens to him........