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januaryembrs · 4 months ago

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YOU CAN HEAR IT IN THE SILENCE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [9]

description: the TWO big steps you take together.

word count: 13.5k

trigger warnings: entire mr scratch episode including drugging and suic!de, gore, violence, blood, mention of Diana's schizophrenia, mention of hotch's upbringing

author's note: lets do this again UGH. also set throughout season 10 so even though it seems like a jump its been a whole year bcus I can't write about every day my babies spend together.

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‘Cause you can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out,

You’re in love. True love,’

The one where you meet his mom. [you have the parenthood talk]

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her thumbnail instinctively picking at the side of her forefinger as her eyes trailed over the dress in the mirror.

It was a little too chesty, were the sleeves too short? Would his mom not like that it was backless? Backless meant suggestive to some people. Would she hate her piercings? She could take out a couple of her earrings just for one day, cover the hole where her nose ring slipped in with foundation easily.

Smile, she needed to remember to smile, not that god awful resting bitch face that Elizabeth used to say looked like she’d sucked a lemon between her cheeks. Smile. No, not like that, that looks fake and awkward.

Was her make up too much? She would hate for Spencer’s mom to think she looked like a hooker. A cheap one at that.

She felt his hands on her shoulders before the throes of her vicious mind could nab her once more, and her eyes trailed behind her in the reflective, if not slightly fingerprinted, mirror.

“You’re thinking loud,” Spencer said as if it was a fact, though that tended to be the way with him, since he knew damn near everything there was to know. Especially about her. “Why are you so worried, it’s my mom. Besides, what’s not to like about you?”

She huffed, shaking her head even though she really tried her best to give him a smile, instead turning to look down at her hands with wincing, cynical twinge of her lips.

“Maybe my tattoos or my make up or my slutty dress or my piercings that make me look like I just raided Penelope’s collection of ‘goth chic jewellery’, her words not mine,” She said pessimistically. She didn’t want to dampen the mood, honestly she was looking forward to the woman who graced the world with Spencer Reid (she wondered if a handshake or a hug would be appropriate, she would ask Spence in the car she decided,) “People don’t tend to see me the way you do, honey, I can be blunt and rude and snappy and cold. And it’s your mom, she’s like the most important person in the world to you.”

“She’s joint first, actually” Spencer corrected, trying to lift her spirits even a little. He knew none of the things she was saying were necessarily true. He suspected that voice that had overcome her was not her own at all, more likely her own mother nagging into to her for years to sit up straighter, smile more, make an effort to network and socialise, or any other piece of shit observation about how she acted for Elizabeth to badger her about.

But then she smiled at him, her eyebrows drawn together a little like she guessed he was lying or perhaps sugarcoating things.

“You’re allowed to have her first, you know,” Bugsy reassured him, her eyes melty and soft as she looked at him and he nodded, wrapping his arms around her stomach, almost like he was trying to suck the negativity out of her whole body through diffusion of their skin alone. “She’s your mom,”

“I know,” Spencer said simply, their eyes never breaking the gaze at one another, and Bugsy felt herself warm inside when she saw just how besotted his forest hues were, “Please stop worrying, she’s going to love you,”

“You can’t know that for sure,” She pushed back, because when had she ever allowed herself to enjoy a good thing when she had it. She knew she was being somewhat of a Negative Nancy, and she didn’t mean to be, truly. But Diana Reid was possibly the most significant person in Spencer’s life, despite what he said. And Bugsy was… Bugsy. All teeth and chaos and bite and vicious tongue when she didn’t mean to be.

If Diana didn’t like her, she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to look at Spencer again without blurting out the million ways she’d try to make it up to him.

“Oh, I do know for sure actually,” He said, spinning her around so he could see her first hand, not in a reflection or a mirror image, and she smiled despite herself, pressing into his lean body and taking a big whiff of his freshly washed clothes. It was the same detergent she used, the same one he’d always used, and yet it was so Spencer it made her skin crawl with what she thought felt like warm goosebumps.

“Oh yeah?” He nodded proudly, and she progressed to a grin, her chin leaning against his chest as she spoke, and he stroked her neatly braided hair away from her face to see her better, like he’d won the second he saw her smile properly, “How do you figure that one out, wonder boy?”

“I’ve mentioned you in almost every single letter I’ve written to her for three whole years. When she saw the photo of you I sent her, she asked if I’d cut you out of a vogue magazine,” Spencer said and she burst out laughing. He couldn’t say he blamed his mom, the photo he’d sent had been one of Bugsy’s best, but then he’d be willing to argue all of them were just as newsworthy as the last. And nothing compared to the real thing. “You make me happy, happier than I ever thought I was allowed to be. Believe me, I know she’ll love you, because I love you,”

Bugsy smushed her face into his sweater to hide her modesty, and she pressed a small, barely there kiss to where her lips met even if he wouldn’t feel it.

“Does my hair look okay?” She checked again, her voice muffled by his thick knitted clothes, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking a gentle hand down her spine.

“You look beautiful,” He said softly, pulling her away from his body and holding onto her right hand, “Give me a spin,”

He lifted her hand above her head, despite the fact she seemed reluctant and embarrassed, “Spence,”

“We’re not leaving until you give me a spin,” He teased, and his smile was infectious as she twirled around beneath his grasp, the long, floral, sundress fanning out around her knees, “And back again!”

“Spencer-” She said with a chuckle, but he seemed to ignore her, or judging by his smile that spread across his whole face he didn’t care.

“Sorry, it’s just the rules,” He said, though she was almost certain there wasn’t ever such a thing as a rulebook on how to make your girlfriend less of a whiny bitch.

He spun her back around, and by the time she whirled around to face him a second him, his arm dropped down to secure around her waist, yanking her towards him to press a scorching hot kiss to her lips.

She kissed him back, her tongue trailing against his lip and Spencer’s obscenely large hand released her waist, trailing up her sides to cup her cheeks. Spencer kissed her like she was sucking air right out his lungs, like he was receiving life saving medicine, like he was being graced by an angel, a non-believer, a man of science reaching out to the white gates of heaven as if they were about to disappear under his touch.

They parted with a small smack that reverberated in the bathroom, and Bugsy looked at him as if he’d infected her with a drug, because truthfully that was how his touch, his kiss, made her feel.

They settled in his car, a few soft and loving affections later, because she really did look beautiful and he could apologise for smudging her lipstick another time, and Spencer it was the first time in a long time that Spencer felt like his future was laid out in front of him.

–

She fretted some more in the lobby, the woman behind the desk at the sanitarium lighting up at the sight of Spencer walking towards her with a smile.

“Dr. Reid,” She enthused, noting the woman next to him that squoze a book to her chest tightly like she wasn't sure what her fingers might do if they were let loose, “She’s been so excited to see you, her doctors said she’s responding well to the new medication,”

“I heard, I’m glad to hear she’s feeling calmer,” He said, his eyes trailing past the brunette who tapped away at her keyboard idly, “Where is she?”

“She’s just in the sunroom. She’s been learning how to crochet, just like you said,” The receptionist smiled kindly at Bugsy, who looked all but terrified, though she hid it well through tight lips.

Spencer nodded, reaching up to put a hand between Bugsy’s shoulder’s to lead her through the lounge area where a few other residents watched a black and white movie.

“Are you sure my make up looks okay, my mascara hasn’t ran has it?” She whispered, because a few other people, some even her age, were sitting in comfy armchairs flicking through books.

Spencer smiled at her, because she was so cute when she was nervous, usually it was the other way around, “You look lovely, you always look lovely,”

“I believe that’s what’s called voter bias, Dr Reid,” She said, because jokes and wit always seemed to release the pressure on her head when she was stressed.

He chuckled, opening the door to a large room filled on all sides with windows, and the cosy heat hit her in the face, “Not if what I’ve said is a verifiable fact.”

“Who’s your secondary source, Dr?” She said, because they seemed to fall into a nerdy sort of teasing when they were like this. Facts and figures were predictable, getting your boyfriend’s mother to like you based entirely on your personality was not.

“My mom,” Spencer said, and her head whipped to his, ready to protest when he led her to the corner of the sunroom, where a woman sat with her ocean blue eyes screwed up in concentration where two blush pink hooks were crossing and bobbing between a cream thread of yarn, “Mom,”

Her eyes flew up from where she sat, immersed in the delicate movements. Spencer had said a few weeks ago her hands were becoming stiff on her new tablets, that the side effects were making her circulation poor and so Bugsy had been out to help him pick up a crochet kit from Walmart the very same day.

“Mom, this is Bugsy,” He said, and it was his turn to be almost shy as he gestured to the young woman. “The girl I was telling you about,”

Diana stopped for a moment, as if assessing the new face, the way her hair fell around her ears, and Bugsy clutched the hardback tighter to her chest, thinking that maybe she should have gone for something a little fancier than the small piece of twin that wrapped around the present. First time meeting his mom and this was the best you could do, really Bugsy? Where’s the flowers or even another ball of yarn to keep her occupied?

Bugsy swore her breath caught, her brows furrowing together worriedly as she went to hold a shaky hand out to Diana, but then second guessed herself when she wondered if the loathing of spreading germs was shared between Spencer and his mom. She’d forgotten to check when they were in the car- stupid- stupid girl.

“H-hello, Mrs Reid,” She said quietly, shakily, holding out the book to the woman. Diana Reid looked good for her age, considering Spencer had told her on numerous occasions that she struggled to pretty herself up the way she used to before her Schizophrenia had spiralled. But her hair was a warm blonde with only small traces of grey in it, short around her neck likely for practicality, and despite the fact her face seemed somewhat grumpy, though Bugsy would describe her as lost more than anything, she lit up like a damn firework on the fourth of July the second she saw her son.

“Spencer!” She exclaimed, holding a hand out for her son to take, which he did so without hesitation. Bugsy thought she might be going in for a hug, maybe that she’d missed the hint that Bugsy was trying to greet her, which the young girl didn’t mind one bit. She was well aware she was stepping on their time together, “Help me out of this chair, I left my glasses in my room, I want to see her,”

Bugsy felt heat rush to her cheeks as Diana all but threw her crochet set to the little table beside what seemed to be a lukewarm mug of coffee, and Spencer helped her out of the recliner, Bugsy holding out another hand in case she needed it. She was tall once she stood to full height, taller than Bugsy would have thought she would be, and hands were on her shoulders the second Diana had released her son.

“Oh, look at you!” Diana exclaimed, and Bugsy tried not to falter with embarrassment under her words. But his mother’s hands were soft, if not rough on the tips where she had spent her life flicking through pages on pages of literature, “I’ve always told Spence he was a looker but, my god, you’re a catch even for him,”

“Mom,” He said indignantly, but Bugsy chuckled through flaming cheeks. Diana waved him off in favour of smiling at the girl, and the second she met eyes with the woman who had raised Spencer Reid she saw where he got his good heart from.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Reid,” She stumbled over her words, trying for a second time to give her the book, and Diana looked almost aghast that she had brought her a present, “Spencer said you’d finished all your books they let you keep here so I bought you one of my favourites-”

“How could I resist The Great Gatsby,” Diana said, running a polished thumb over the gold printed writing, a small smile playing at her lips, “I’ve been meaning to brush up on Fitzgerald,”

Spencer smiled at his mother, who seemed more full of life than she had in weeks, before she waved her hand in front of the two of them, and Bugsy wondered if she had done something wrong.

“And none of this Mrs Reid crap. You're not the IRS, Diana is just fine, honey,” She said, and Bugsy grinned, nodding in agreement with the older woman. “Mom is even better if you’re feeling brave,”

“O-okay, absolutely,” She said, smiling even wider when Spencer seemed almost aghast his mother was being so brazen. Though he needn’t be so prudent, Bugsy was certain she loved her already.

“And how is my big strong FBI agent?” Diana turned to her son finally and he shook his head, his eyes full of boyish affection for the women.

“There’s dozens of words I think would perfectly describe me yet ‘big and strong’ fall nowhere in that category, mom,” He said, smiling widely at his mother who rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder. She seemed more like herself than she had in years, her eyes were clearer, her nerves weren’t shot like usual. She seemed like the mother from his best memories.

“Alright, how does ‘contumelious’ work out for you?” She cracked back, and he laughed, shaking his head and he caught the pure warm grin radiating from Bugsy’s direction at the two of them.

And Bugsy saw in the kind, devoted eyes that hid behind Diana’s fluffy white, blonde hair where Spencer got his gentle soul; as if no amount of medication or illness would ever make his mother let up on the tenderness she held for him. She felt it in the air alone, the way they fell into sync only blood could ever achieve, and for a flash of a thought, Bugsy wondered if Spencer would be so doting on their children.

And for the first time all day she didn’t need to second guess herself. She already knew the answer.

–

“And this was Spencer in the mathletes,” Bugsy’s hand flew to her mouth to suppress the ‘aww’ threatening to tumble from her lips, because she knew from the way his cheeks had turned a bright rouge that he was embarrassed and she hated to make him feel like she was finding humour in his shame.

It was easy to see which one was him from the offset. Three college boys who had probably spent the best part of their first years begging sorority girls to fuck them and eating funny brownies stood at the back, atleast in their late teens judging by their late-adolescene acne and braces. Yet there, standing in front of them dressed in a tweed sweater vest and pressed brown trousers as if he was a small grandpa, was a scrawny pole of a boy, peeking out from behind a sweeping fringe in need of a trim and a pair of bubble-like glasses.

He was smiling wide, holding some sort of trophy in between his slender, little fingers, and Bugsy could bet her entire savings that he had answered almost all of his team’s questions.

“Spence,” She murmured, taking the photo gently between her fingertips where she sat in between her partner and his mother at the foot of Diana’s bed, “You were so cute,”

“You can just say dorky,” He corrected, fighting the urge to cover his cheeks with his hands, because he could feel the way they gave away his self-consciousness.

But she shook her head, leaning into him with adoring eyes as she stared at the photo, “No, I mean cute. Look at your little hair, you were so tiny- aw!”

He laughed awkwardly, not missing the way she put a hand on his leg in reassurance, and Diana handed her another photo of a toddler with thick dark hair, those hazel eyes she loved, huge and round on the baby's smiling face. Bugsy melted when she saw the milk teeth gleaming in the midst of his laugh, yet she burst into sheepish giggles when she realised baby Spencer had no clothes on.

Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the thing dangling between his legs as the picture captured him crawling towards where Diana had the camera. “Mom!”

Diana rolled her eyes, producing another one of Spencer watering the flowers with the garden hose, barely one year old in a bucket hat and, yet again, nothing else. “Oh, Spencer, don’t give me that, look how cute those little butt cheeks were,”

Bugsy slapped a hand over her mouth, her brows pulling together at the endearingly innocent photos, and she met Spencer’s gaze again, the urge to squish his cheeks in between her fingers suddenly itching her hands. Though, judging by the embarrassment in his expression, he wouldn’t like it very much even if she did mean the best of intentions.

“You were so adorable,” She confessed, looking back down at the two tiny, round butt cheeks that made something well in her chest because it was Spencer, so small and vulnerable and helpless. She turned to Diana, her eyes wide with love, “How did you not want just millions of them?”

The woman laughed, leaning against Bugsy and palming off another photo, this time of Spencer in swimming trunks at the beach, likely around two or three, a line of white sun cream running down his nose and cheeks as he looked to be grumbling about the sand on his legs.

“Because I knew none of them could ever be as special as my Spencer, and then that just wouldn’t be fair on them.” She said simply, and Bugsy smiled at the woman, truly smiled, because despite everything her illness set against her, she loved her son more than anything in the world. “You don’t win the lottery and then pawn in your rings for a couple bucks, now do you?”

Bugsy chuckled, shaking her head. Elizabeth had never been so doting on her. She knew she shouldn’t think about her, shouldn’t compare the two of them because they weren’t similar even in the slightest. Diana was a single mother of a deadbeat husband who left, she battled a disease day in-day out that threatened to eat away at her brain, her memories of her son who thought the world of her, and she was still a better mother than hers had ever been.

Part of her felt that bitter sting that never really left her since she was thirteen, since she saw the maid at breakfast time more often than she ever saw her mother, the kid that got picked up and dropped off in another country like she was furniture, a barbie doll for her mother to primp and clean and boast about her big brain to her colleagues without ever showing a semblance of affection for the girl reading material eight years above her grade level.

Diana was living proof that no matter what, it’s not a challenge to love your children the way Elizabeth had always made it out to be, that she was difficult to love even for her own mother.

Bugsy bit the emotion back, knowing it was just the baby photos ramping up her hormones, and felt herself fall perhaps even more in love with Spencer Reid when she saw the photo of him at Christmas dressed as a Jedi.

–

She was quiet on the way home, her stomach warm with fondness, her hand warm with his palm as they held hands on top of the gearstick.

She watched the last of the sun peek through the trees in a cantaloupe orange and candy-floss pink swirl, and she let herself close her eyes under the day’s worth of laughter.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer said after a moment, giving her hand a small squeeze when she didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if she may have even fallen asleep, feeling immediately guilty for waking her.

She looked at him with an uneasy smile on her face, and his brain threw up a million different reasons for it, almost all of them making him worry.

“I know my mom is a lot,” He said, his tone jittery and she started shaking her head immediately, forgetting he couldn’t see where he was looking at the road, “I know she’s-”

“She’s wonderful, Spencer. God, no, it’s not that. I loved her,” Bugsy cut him off, and his shoulder’s immediately sagged in relief. She moved her hand to tuck a single lock of hair behind his ear, and he nudged into her touch on instinct.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows pulled together in worry as they came to a red stop light, and he put the Beetle into neutral. He looked over at her then, and he saw the way the grin had slipped off her face, leaving her with something oddly unreadable, though if he had to put a name to it, he would say doubtful, and she swallowed thickly.

“Do you ever worry…” She paused herself, because she already could see their picture perfect day spiralling down the drain like yesterday’s woes, “It’s nothing, just forget I said anything,”

“No, tell me,” Spencer insisted, and the road around them seemed to hold its breath waiting for her reply. He’d taken a nice route home, claiming he wanted to skip the eight pm traffic, whatever that was, had cut through one of those neighbourhoods they show on holiday brochures or estate agents' windows. The kind people with kids and volvo’s and yoga mom groups lived in.

Her eyes snapped out the front window when four young boys zipped past them on their bikes, their knees muddy from where they’d probably spent the day playing soccer, their clothes just as messy and torn, likely waiting to be scolded by their mothers for their recklessness. And pulling up the rear was a kid smaller than the others, jogging after them, wanting to cross the road before the light turned green, his glasses slipping down his nose with every step, and some weird, small part in Bugsy’s gut wanted to throw her arms around him and walk him home to make sure he got there safely.

Spencer’s hand was on her thigh, pulling her out of her thoughts for a second time, and she blinked a little too harshly, wishing she could just enjoy a lovely day for what it was rather than putting such a downer on things.

“I haven’t spoken to my mom since Emily’s funeral,” She said, swallowing heavily, and understanding passed over his face then. He knew he would never have with Elizabeth what they had just had with his mother. Even if she retired tomorrow and wasn’t jetting off to another country every week, Elizabeth Prentiss was a cold, shrewd woman who could make someone, mainly her daughters, feel empty just by being in the same room.

Her damning grey eyes, her tight lips that never smiled, her harsh brow.

“I don’t think she even kept any of my baby photos, none that don’t have her in them at least,” She confessed, and the lights flashed to amber, then green, and he was forced to let go of her for just a moment as he pulled off again, “I don’t… I don’t think she ever liked me.”

He had no idea what to say that would make it better. Usually he was so good at wriggling her problems out from the core, proving all her worst fears were wrong with simple logic. Yet he was at an end. Because Elizabeth had never shown any sign of loving her daughters, truly loving them beyond trophies.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” He tried, pulling over to stop at the curb because he hated speaking to her when he was distracted. “Some people just have a funny way of showing these things,”

But she shook her head, turning her eyes to her lap, “Your mom is… Amazing. And I feel like a total asshole for complaining about mine when yours is sick most of the time. And I know things weren’t great- I mean you were just a kid, you should have never had to look after her, it’s supposed to be the other way around, you know? But you’ll know she’s always loved you, like truly, truly loved you. I mean, you’re her whole world,” She rushed, like the thoughts had been bouncing around her head all day, waiting to burst out at the seams, which they had.

Spencer took the keys out of the ignition, shuffling in his seat to face her, and he only realised then she was watching where the four boys had taken off down the street on their bikes, the smallest one trailing at the back like a lost puppy.

“Don’t you ever worry sometimes I’ll be..” She started, and he knew where it was going before she forced herself to finish. Taking her hand in his, weaving his fingers between hers and squeezing them tight.

“Like your mom?” He said for her because the words were lingering in the air like alphabet soup. She nodded silently, grateful that he always seemed to know how her brain was ticking over. She reminded herself to make it up to him later, “Never,”

“But-” She started, and he grabbed her chin then, forcing her to look at him. He smiled dopily, because usually it was him who needed to be told how other people felt, and she swore his eyes had never looked so sweet.

“Never,” He repeated, feeling the smile spreading under his fingertips as it took the second turn for her to hear it, “If anything, I worry more about becoming like my dad,”

Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head again. Sometimes Spencer wondered if she knew she was so expressive. It was one of his favourite parts about her.

“Never,” She echoed back to him, and they shared a sombre smile, squeezing each others hand just that bit tighter, “I tell you what, the second either one of us starts becoming our parents, we have the right to call them a jackass,”

He laughed, nodding his head and leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to hers, “Alright, deal. Although I think I hear Freud rolling in his grave at that statement.”

She kissed him, hard, because she would never be able to tell him exactly how he made her feel with words alone. Over two hundred thousand words in the English Language, at least five other languages she could speak fluently, and yet not one of them knew how to describe this feeling. Like she had been absorbed so completely, effortlessly, by Spencer Reid. That she was disease ridden, riddled with Reid.

And the thought made her giggle into the kiss, because she would have to tell him some other time. Her hand ran through his hair, pulling him closer, and his hand skirted down to her waist to tease underneath her shirt.

They pulled away after a moment, staring with the same dazed look in their eyes.

“We have three more days in Vegas,” She started, fixing his collar and hair with idle fingers and pressing an absent peck to his lips, “Do you think we could go back one more time? To see your mom? If that’s okay with her, of course,”

And he smiled widely at her, nodding and pulling her in for another long kiss. They had a dinner reservation in a half hour, but he didn’t mind being five minutes late for once in his life, not if it meant he was with her.

The one with Scratch. [he buys a ring]

He’d walked past the jewellers three times that week on his way back from the coffee shop. Bugsy had a fair bit of paperwork to catch up on, despite him offering to halve her load with her because Hotch had already warned them once about the complaints he got from the other agents that she was using Reid’s memory as an unfair advantage, although he would argue that her brain was just as capable as his.

So, he’d been sent on a coffee run alone. He wasn’t complaining, it was just down the road, barely even a five minute walk, and it meant he got to look at the range of neatly cut diamonds in peace.

He wasn’t looking to buy it soon, at least that was what he’d told himself the first time he’d seen the pretty one in the corner. He was just having a browse, perhaps just looking at the watches they had on display and his eye had happened to fall to the women’s section below. The second time he’d stopped for a look, it was just to see if anyone had bought that one he’d seen the first time, and when he realised they hadn’t, his heart gave a somewhat relieved sigh that he decided he would confront later.

By the third time, the shop keeper stuck his head out the door, making Spencer jump.

“Either you’re buying or you’re fogging up my window, kid,” The old man’s voice was gruff, but he had kind eyes, that of a romantic, and Spencer supposed you didn’t sell a dozen engagement rings a day and not feel hopeful.

“J-just looking,” He stammered, taking a step away from the rings and double checking he hadn’t gotten any smudges on the glass, “Not to buy right now, just for future reference,”

“No one comes back that many times for future reference, son,” He said with a chuckle and Spencer hated the part of him that said that he was right, “Why not for right now?”

Spencer huffed quietly, wondering if her coffee would be cold by the time he got back at the rate he was going, “It’s still a little early. I don’t want to freak her out,”

She had been his girlfriend for one year, seven months and two weeks (and four days but who was counting). It had been her thirtieth birthday just a couple months ago, as far as he was concerned Bugsy had never dropped any hints about wanting to marry any time soon like he knew other women did at this time in their life.

He was happy where they were, in their apartment, in their semi-public relationship, with their boys that were starting to look a little grey and rickety on their paws. Spencer didn’t want anything to ruin that, even if that one ring did seem to call out to him like a siren song.

The jeweller grinned slyly, like he knew something Spencer didn’t, but he nodded at the kid nevertheless, “Well, that little number in the corner you’ve had your eye on has had two offers already, incase that sways your hand at all,”

And Spencer felt the jolt of injustice in his head at the idea of someone else taking that ring, one that he couldn’t get out of his head the entire way back to the office, one that only went away when he saw her smiling up at him.

One that only dissolved when he imagined how she would look wearing it.

–

“Tell Penelope I said hi,” Director Axelrod murmured, turning on his heel and heading back to his car as Hotch flashed a look down at the paper, the name ‘Peter Lewis’ scribbled out on the line and he passed the paper to Bugsy where she peered around his shoulder.

“Get this to Garcia, Lewis has his final victim already,” He said and she nodded, the two of them heading back to the car. Bugsy pulled her cell out her pocket, immediately calling their tech whizz where the rest of the team were at the office an hour away.

“Peter Lewis, born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. To call him a Math genius would be an understatement,” Garcia reported, her press on nails clicking against the keyboard as she worked in the candlelight since Lewis had hacked into their electric systems.

“Where was he in the foster system?” Hotch asked, Bugsy holding the phone up over the centre console so they could both speak to their team.

“He was… ugh this WiFi hotspot is the worst,” They waited, Hotch heading for the freeway, “He was not in the foster system. He had two very biological parents and they ran the foster home until it- oh dear,”

“Looks like we found Mr Scratch,” Rossi sighed, and Bugsy’s brows furrowed, waiting for a response.

“So one of the boys in the house said Peter’s dad would dress up as the devil then the other kids would follow suit, this has to be where all the victims stayed before they were adopted and their names were changed,” JJ chimed in.

“Did Lewis’s father serve any time?” Bugsy piped up, chewing the inside of her cheek because the whole case had given her the heebie jeebies. Grown ups reporting sights of shadow monsters and waking up with dead loved ones. She thought by now she had heard it all.

“The case was pending and then he was killed in jail for being a paedophile. Peter’s residency is still listed as Florida,” Garcia said, her mouse whirling around at the speed of light judging by the soft ticks they heard on their end.

“He broke into FBI files to find someone in witness protection, did any of the kids from the home end up in WITSEC?” Hotch asked, clicking the blinker down to chand lanes and overtake the ford infront of them.

“That would be… no? No, none of them,” Garcia replied, and the team shared a confused pause.

“Who the hell is he still hunting?”

Hotch spoke up, his own mind whirring as to who could possibly be Lewis’ endgame, “Garcia, who ran the investigation in Florida?”

“Hold on, that would be Dr. Susannah Regan, who went into witness protection on a very nice estate in Columbia, Maryland,” Bugsy and Hotch looked at one another, sharing the same thought and the unit chief floored the gas pedal, knowing Regan didn’t have a whole load of time left if Peter had gotten to her already.

“Send Reid the location, we’re on our way,” Hotch ordered, and Penelope was already ten steps ahead, Rossi and JJ grabbing their vests and heading for the garage.

Bugsy hung up, checking her gun was still holstered as Hotch launched them the final five minutes to Dr Regan’s home.

And yet she couldn’t help feel like they were walking into the belly of the beast the victims had been describing.

–

Garcia hadn’t been kidding when she said it was a nice estate. By the time they’d gotten out the car, the entire street was silent, a quiet only lots of acres and high gates bought you.

“You stay behind me, we watch each other's six. We get Dr Regan and we get out, are we clear?” Hotch muttered, his eyes darling to the living room window where the curtains had been pulled closed, one single lamp left lit.

She nodded, the two of them edging towards the door that had already been left open a crack, “Crystal,”

He took a second to breath, wondering if they should wait for back up, but Savannah didn’t have alot of time, not if the unsub was already inside like he suspected, before he raised his hand up to the knocker and snapped it a couple times, pushing the door open.

“Dr Regan?”

“It’s open, come in,” The woman’s voice called, though it sounded too chipper to be authentic, some sort of uncanny valley as if it was an automated response from an answering machine.

Checking Bugsy was still behind him, he pushed on, his footsteps light and quiet, eyes scanning the large antechamber, the grand piano sat in front of a huge fireplace cold to the touch, the lights all switched off despite the owner being home.

Maybe Dr Regan was cheaping out on her bills. But Bugsy doubted it. Something in her gut didn’t sit right.

“Are you alright?” Aaron called, his torso squeezing against his vest as he scanned what he could see from the room, and she held up behind him, flicking a look over her shoulder every once in a while for movement from the other rooms.

“Agent Hotchner, I got Agent Rossi’s message,” She said, again in that cheery voice, despite her words claiming she understood she was in peril, and the sound of it made Bugsy’s chest seize with suspicion.

“Doctor, you’re in danger, you need to come with us,” She explained, her eyes squinting to see in the damning lowlight of the home.

“I understand,” That robot voice spoke, “I’m in the study,”

They paused for a second, exchanging another look before pressing on because they had no time to lose over silly hesitations. Passing through the entrance into the room lined with bookshelves on bookshelves, expensive tapestry on expensive tapestry, their heads flicked over to a frail older woman that somewhat resembled the woman they’d been sent from Penelope, when she had was freshly turned twenty five with a sparkly new bookdeal under her nose.

She sighed in gratitude when the entered, and Bugsy held back a moment as Hotch moved in, keeping her finger on the trigger, “I’m so glad you’re here, you need to see this,” Savannah produced a long, glass sharp letter opener that could easily pass for a knife with the eight inch edge of it, “He wants you to see this.”

And with that, without hesitation or caution she jammed the knife through her own windpipe as if puppeteered by a master, and Bugsy leapt forward to try stop the bleeding just as Aaron did.

Only she never got that far, because no sooner had she stepped forward a hand reached out from the darkness, grabbing her by the scruff of her hair and throwing her to the floor while she had been caught off guard. Pain exploded behind her eyes as her nose met the hardwood floor, and she swore she cracked a tooth or two. Her hand scrambled out for her gun, only to watch a large black boot stomp down on her digits that made her hiss in pain.

She heard a scuffle up ahead where Peter had managed to grab Hotch equally unaware, and she watched her unit chief tumble to the floor, smacking his head on the table on his way down.

And it was then that she smelled it. A raw chemically odour that ran up her bloodied nose, went into her mouth when she tried calling out for Hotch, and it made her cough up a thick mucus before it had even slid down her throat.

She heard shots fired, and it was enough for her to reach out for her own gun again, hoping that Lewis was distracted enough to not pay attention to her, only to realise somewhere in the scuffle he had kicked her weapon across the floor.

When had he done that? Why hadn’t she seen him? Probably because the pain behind her eyes had damn near wiped her vision into a blur of white.

It was then the nausea hit her, the vertigo washing over her like she’d stood up too fast, only she wasn’t standing up at all, in fact she was pretty sure she was on her hands and knees trying to crawl towards Hotch.

Hotch, who lay on the floor with his own eyes rolling like the room was spinning for him too, and she wondered how on earth anyone could have beaten Hotch. He was a rock, immovable, irreplaceable, forever.

“Hotch-” She garbled out, her voice tragic and weak in a way he’d never heard before.

And he opened his mouth to speak, only to find his own voice gone when he saw the figure leering over her body, a glint of a knife in his hand, and Aaron wanted to know how he had managed to emerge out of the shadows when he could have sworn Lewis was right next to him.

The drug, it had to be the drug. God his eyelids were heavy, what had they been in this house for?

But Aaron felt a scream lodge in his mouth, sounding more like a yelp, something that could have been a mix of ‘no’ and raw anger because Peter had brought one of those big black boots behind him and kicked Bugsy so hard in the gut she flew to her side like roadkill, the wind leaving her lungs with a whimper of pain, and her eyes never left Hotch’s gaze as he did so.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to need some alone time with Mr Hotchner here,” Lewis said, and before Aaron could plea or beg, he watched the man lean down and drive a swift line across her throat, as if he were simply gutting a pig, and her carotid artery was sliced clean in two, her blood spewing all over Aaron’s shoes, seeping into the floor.

And Aaron went to scream, felt the tears well in his eyes because he’d failed her, only this time, unlike Hailey, he was forced to watch every second of life trickle from her face as she bled out onto the floor, choking and clawing at the floor for reprieve.

What would he say to the team, to Spencer? What would he say to Emily?

Aaron let himself sob, shaking his head in denial and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, hoping to god medical would get here soon. It would be too late by then, he already knew it.

Bugsy was dead. There wasn’t any miracle fix or band aids that were going to fix that.

And yet in the next moment the sound of her body writhing in desperation against the floor, the sight of which he couldn’t even bring himself to watch, it had gone quiet.

And Aaron peeled his eyes open, wondering if she had passed, if she was still in pain, if she wanted someone to hold her hand as she went, and he urged his heavy muscles to do something god damnit anything to help her, except his body felt like lead and even opening his eyes was too much for him.

But there was nothing there. Not the puddle of blood he’d just watched spill over the flooring, not her hand reaching out for him, clawing at her throat for reprieve and certainly not a body of a girl he once loved like a daughter who would stay with him for a lifetime.

All of it, just… gone.

“Don’t you worry, Mr Hotchner, I’m saving the girl for later. Can’t have a pretty thing like that go to waste,” Lewis smiled toothily, and Aaron wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat, wring the life out of him until he was a crumpled mess on the floor, “But for now, it’s you and me, Aaron. And I think you should answer your phone. Your team are on their way for you,”

–

Her scream was piercing, cut through two walls. He could hear it the second they stepped out of the car. He’d all but thrown himself out the vehicle before Anderson had even stopped, probably would have barged right through the front door without even drawing his gun if it hadn’t been for Morgan grabbing him.

“Reid, Reid, no-” Derek said, even though his voice wavered, his head flicking back at the house, “You can’t just head in there without backup, it could be a trap, man,”

“She’s in there, can’t you hear her?” Spencer said, his eyes wide with terror as the sound of her screaming kicked up a whole other decibel and Spencer's stomach churned at the thought of what might be the root cause of it, “Please, Morgan, I can’t-”

He didn’t even realise his eyes had welled up at the sound alone until he couldn’t finish his words, and Derek was staring at him with an equally solemn expression.

JJ rounded the other SUV, Rossi at her tail, their guns drawn low to their thighs as they gave Derek a nod; ready to enter.

“Just promise me you’ll keep your head, Reid,” Morgan said with a cautious tone. Realistically, Spencer should have stayed back at the office with Kate. He was too emotionally invested in the case, though no one wanted to be the one to argue that with him, knowing Spencer would only fight back that they would all struggle to keep their cool once they entered the house.

Because the UnSub had Hotch and Bugsy. He’d taken family. He’d made it personal.

And then, just as Spencer nodded, unholstering his own gun and making sure his vest was tightened at his waist, perhaps the worst happened.

A shot fired from inside the house, loud and unmistakable over the deafening cries and Bugsy’s screaming stopped.

–

Spencer didn’t even remember entering the house, not really, despite his promise to Morgan. He felt like his heart was in his throat, images of Maeve’s brain matter splattered over the warehouse floor flooding his head, because apparently a revolver can cut through two heads at once and still pack a punch.

Spencer was realistic, had sprung into a clinical sort of worry that told him exactly how many times he’d told her he loved her (two thousand, six hundred and seventeen times) and that maybe that wasn’t enough. It told him the amount of kisses they’d shared could have easily been doubled if he dared to steal them more often before bed, if he’d been honest with her years before he had, if he’d just taken five minutes off his showers.

He had barely survived Maeve dying. If Bugsy was gone… there would be nothing left of him. Nothing important anyway. Just a body, limbs, a heart that would never beat again. He wagered even his blood would stop because the idea of her gone from the world had already made him cold.

He heard movement in the living room, and judging by the way Derek’s head whipped over to their right, he had too. And before they could raise their guns up to aim, Derek edging forward to kick the door in with pure, simmering rage, a voice sounded out from the other side.

“In here!”

Hotch. Hotch, who sounded like he was weeping, or at least had a frog in his throat, hummed his words almost. The men drew a breath of relief, Derek reaching forward to open the living room door, his weapon still tight in between his fingers as he pushed.

“Hotch?” He said, though Spencer’s eyes cast around the room the second he confirmed his unit chief was okay. He had a nasty gash on his head, likely from where he’d fallen, and his pupils were dilated. Drugged. “Hotch, where’s Bugsy?”

“H-he took her-” Aaron slurred, attempting to get to his feet, holding out a hand to the sofa and using the furniture to claw himself up to a stand, “Upstairs I think- I need to get her- Where’s my gun-”

Morgan rushed in to grab Hotch under his arms as Rossi and JJ burst in from the kitchen, Rossi calling out behind them for medical attention.

“Hotch, you’re not going anywhere, you need to- Reid,” Morgan yelled, but Spencer ignored him. Because he could apologise later.

Lewis had Bugsy alone, had taken her upstairs, that was what Hotch said. And Spencer couldn’t stand by and wait while they had no idea what was happening to her. He heard JJ’s footsteps pounding behind him, following him up the stairs, and he knew he should be paying more attention for any hint if Lewis was still in the building. But he didn’t. All he could think about was those screams. Raw. Guttural. Like she was being skinned alive.

His eyes trailed the empty bedrooms, any sign of movement whether it be Lewis or the woman he would trade his own life for in a heart beat if it came down to it. But there was nothing there, not even as JJ swept the other handful of rooms, leaving them with one small storage room at the end of the hallway, and the two of them cast a glance at one another.

JJ nodded to him, and he reached out a shaky hand, praying on everything in the vast universe he’d spent his entire life learning about that someone heard him begging to keep his Bugsy alive.

He slid the door open, cocking his gun up to the figure in the corner, his own weapon at his feet as he smiled in a smug manner.

JJ took stock of their surroundings, waiting for the trap they were walking into to spring, only he held his hands out in surrender.

Because he had already gotten what he wanted. He had killed Dr Regan, and taken two cops down with him.

“Where is she?” Spencer spat, handing JJ cuffs as the woman grabbed him harsher than she should do, because the pleased look on his face was infuriating, only made worse by the chuckle that bubbled out of his mouth.

“She’s in the closet,” He nodded his head to the smallest bedroom, and Spencer’s eyes narrowed, “She sure is a darling, isn’t she? So easy to tame once that smart mouth of hers was gone,”

Spencer wanted to shoot him between the eyes there and then, put him down like the sick dog he was, but instead he fled after where Lewis had directed him, because he didn’t know if she was injured herself or if it was already too late.

For once in his life, Spencer Reid knew nothing.

–

And then he saw her.

She was alive, thank god she was alive, a dent in her nose that suggested he’d thrown her to the ground face first, her knees skinned, her palms scratched.

But that wasn’t what worried him.

Because no sooner had he opened the door to the closet, reaching forward to yank her hands off her ears, or maybe pull her for a hug, or maybe break down into sobs and tell her how sorry he was he couldn’t have stopped any of it, she’d started screaming again.

He didn’t think after so many years on the job he’d ever heard something so gut-wrenching. For a moment he thought he might even be sick. Because it was full of pure terror. Not the childish fright you get from a scary movie or a loop de loop on a rollercoaster, but blood curdling fear like he had never heard before.

It was enough to have Morgan running up the stairs with his gun drawn, only to see Spencer frozen, his hands reaching out to grab her, and it was only then the agent realised Reid was trying to speak to her.

“Baby, baby it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Spencer, you know me,” He said, his lip quivering, his words warbling with tears, “Please, please come back to me, I don’t know what to do- please just tell me what to do-”

“Reid, she’s not herself. Hotch said Lewis made him see things, awful things, just like he did with the other victims,” Morgan said, holstering his gun, his own resolve crumbling when he came closer and realised she had her eyes screwed tightly shut, curling herself into a ball in the corner like a kid trying to hide from the boogey-monster.

But Spencer didn’t listen, he couldn’t accept that they had found her alive and still he had been too late, didn’t want to accept that he had her in his grasp and yet she was still living her a personal hell with no end in sight.

“Please, please, come back to me,” He sniffled, leaning forward onto his knees to try hold her hands in his, maybe get her to hear his voice and wake up from whatever nightmare she was stuck in, “Come on, I got you,”

“No, no, no, you’re not real, you’re not real,” She screeched, shoving his hands off her, and it was then he saw the dribble of tears running off her nose, “You’re not, I won’t kill him, I won’t-”

It was the ravings of a mad woman. But Spencer didn’t doubt for one second that whatever was happening inside that big brain of hers felt entirely real. He heard Morgan draw a sharp breath, turning to face away from the girl and steady himself where his dark eyes lined with woe and salt.

Spencer hated seeing her cry, hated not knowing how to help her even more, and he didn’t care if she pushed him away even more. He had to hold her, hold her and make her listen, make her understand she was safe because he was there.

Spencer swore then and there that he wouldn’t let anything touch her ever again as long as he lived.

It took everything in him to ignore the way her hands scratched at his wrists desperately, and he wondered if in her mind he’d taken the form of some beast ready to swallow her whole. But he was sure he could calm her down with some coaxing, get her to see what was real if he was patient and gentle enough. He scooped an arm under her legs that shook, and it only took him a second to realise he had peed herself in the throes of her nightmare, the sight of it causing another cry to roll from his tongue. He didn’t care about the mess, because his entire focus was on her as her hands thrashed against his chest, trying everything to get him off her, even when his other hand wrapped around the back of her head and pressed her tightly into his shoulder, squeezing her against him in his lap like she was an inconsolable child.

“Please, please, I can’t, I can’t do it again, I don’t understand,” She wailed, her voiced croaking and pathetic and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d damaged her vocal chords, “I don’t understand,”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He cooed softly, pressing his head next to her ear and rocking her slowly, “It’s me, it’s Spencer. I’m real, this is real,”

Her hands stopped their fight against his body, his own grip tight and not showing any signs of letting go any time soon as he waited for her to wear herself out, for her body to lose its adrenaline and slip out of its fight response. She pushed him limply a few more times, with little more than the strength of a toddler, and he knew she was coming back down, at least something close to it.

“I’m so tired,” Her voice was muddled with tears, slurring and stumbling over each other and it was then that JJ walked in with three paramedics behind her.

The blonde’s face evened out when she saw the girl was alive, nothing but a few surface wounds, but it was then she saw over Spencer’s shoulder the way her eyes were clenched tightly together, the red marks on Spence’s alabaster skin where she had put up a fight behind cradled in his arms.

And JJ knew then that something inside Bugsy had changed that day.

“I know, you were so brave, you were so brave for me,” Spencer nodded, his cheeks flooding as he tried to keep his tone strong, stroking the back of her hair softly, “You did so good, I’m so sorry,”

“I’m so tired and I don’t understand,” She said, like she was putting sentences together for the first time, and it was like suddenly the fight had been sucked out of her as she slumped against him, not even realising in her haze that she needed to be showered off desperately.

“I know, honey,” He murmured, sniffling and pressing his face into her neck, “You can sleep now, I got you,”

She hummed like she didn’t quite believe him, like she still thought he was some figment of her imagination, but she hadn’t the strength to fight back, to call his bluff. And so she drifted in and out of sleep, as the paramedics got her on a stretcher, Spencer hovering over her face incase she woke up in a panic again, cracking her eyes open right as they got her on the back of the ambulance and suddenly it wasn’t Spencer’s face she saw flitting in and out of her eyeline, it was Hotch.

“Hotch-” She tried, her hand swinging out at her side with her attempt of grabbing onto his face because there was a trail of blood down his cheek. Her voice was fried, just like Spencer had suspected, her words sounding as if she had swallowed stones, “Hotch, your head,”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I should have known he would be there,” Hotch said, as her eyes rolled back, straining desperately to keep herself awake. But she had said it herself. She was just so tired. “I shouldn’t have taken you in there,”

“I don’t think I like dreaming anymore,” She garbled childishly, a small frown on her face, and Hotch bit his lip to hide a whimper, raising a hand to her cheek, and Spencer sat at the foot of the stretcher, his neck and wrists sore where she’d clawed him, but he didn’t care.

Hotch gave her a long kiss to her forehead, one Spencer pretended not to see for the sake of paperwork, because he knew Hotch needed it, even as she’d been sucked right back into the reverie of sleep, their eyes never left her frail form, not even when the paramedics started hooking things up to her wrists to take her charts.

Spencer knew then he should have bought that ring.

–

She’d been staring at the ceiling for about five minutes before he tried to pry an answer out of her.

He’d tried not to smother her the second she woke up, had seen the hesitation and distrust swirling in her gaze when she saw him there, and he wondered if she thought it was another one of her dreams she had yet to wake up from. But he was real, and he was worried, and he loved her. God, did he love her. Loved her so much he couldn’t stand for one more moment to see her so dissociated from a world where she was his and he was hers and everyone was missing her.

“What did he make you see?” Spencer tried, his voice as soft as he could try make it without crying, because her gaze remained in her lap, the side effects of the drugs making her a little woozy, “Baby, I can’t help you unless you talk to me, please just, let me help you,”

Her throat was in agony the second she opened her mouth to speak, ripping with pain when she cleared her throat and in an instant, Spencer’s hand was on her thigh drawing comforting circles with his thumb.

“Emily was there, she came to- r-rescue me,” She started shakily, her hands trembling beneath the covers and she breathed slowly through her mouth, “S-she wasn’t wearing a vest, and when I asked her she said she’d gotten the first flight out of London to get me; and then… Doyle,”

She swallowed, and he took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze, and she tried not to let her eyes well up only to find it was already too late.

“He stabbed her like he did that night, but it was different this time. She was on the floor, trying to get away, begging me to call for help but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything, and I was trying so hard to scream and tell someone, but I couldn’t…” She sniffled, squeezing his hand so tight it hurt, but he didn’t care, “And he wouldn’t stop. He just kept going, over and over again, and I had to watch every second of it knowing it was my fault,”

The floor was red, a horrible midnight ichor of Emily’s blood seeping from her body, more blood than a person should ever be able to hold. Last time Doyle had killed her, there had been a hairline chance that she would pull through and Emily had beaten all the odds stacked against her.

But this wasn’t like last time. There was no miracle escape to Europe. Bugsy would be surprised if there was even anything left of her to put in the casket.

Her eyes were terrified as she watched Doyle drive the knife into Emily’s skin, the scream lodging in her throat for a reason she couldn’t place. She begged herself to do something, say something, tell the man that she would rip him limb from limb if she ever got the feeling back in her legs, wail for help because that was her sister, her big sister, and she’d stopped moving a while ago.

Stop, stop it, stop it.

But the words wouldn’t come out. She was frozen. Numb. Like someone had unplugged her from the socket, and the only part of her that did work was her eyes, why did it have to be her eyes.

And the blade was red, so red she thought she’d never see anything else other than red again, as so was the floor, and his arms, and Emily’s clothes. Red. All over. Driving into her stomach with a wet squelch that made Bugsy want to vomit.

Over and over and over.

She burst out crying then, the first real emotion she’d shown in days, and he was out of his chair in seconds, cradling her to his chest and shuffling to sit next to her on her bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it wasn’t real, baby,” He soothed, and she shook her head, her tears soaking his shirt through, and all he could do was stroke her hair down and press gentle kisses to her brow, “You were so brave,”

“And his face changed, and he wasn’t Doyle, it was Hotch. And he-he gave me his gun, and said I had to pick between him or you because one of you had to die and-and I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t pick-” Her words warbled into his shirt, an amalgamation of sobs and deep breaths in between sentences, but she needed to get it out. It would eat her alive if she didn’t.

“Choose,” It was Hotch’s voice. The same rough edge, same bite he used with the UnSubs they chased, the tone he’d never used on her.

She shook her head, because the feeling had tingled back up her spine into her neck by now, and with it brought her voice, her sorrow.

“No, no, Hotch, please don’t make me, I can’t, I won’t-” She sniffled, looking at the thunderous eyes of her unit chief she’d known for years. He didn’t look like himself, like someone was wearing him as a mask, yet she knew it was him by his steady hands that drew his gun from its holster. He had always been sure of himself.

How had she got here? Had Lewis got to Hotch, brainwashed him into slaughtering and terrorising his own team. Whatever it was, Bugsy knew in her chest that whatever was standing in front of her was not Aaron Hotchner.

“Me or him,” He said simply, as if it was that easy, as if he wasn’t pressing a gun to Spencer’s head.

The sob fell from her lips before she could help it, looking to Hotch’s feet where he held the love of her life bound, his eyes rimmed with fear.

“I can’t, please, I can’t,” She wept, her cheeks soaked, the salt trickling down her neck and into her shirt. Or was it blood. Had she hit her head? Why did her head hurt?

She couldn’t care, couldn’t think of anything other than the fact a monster had taken over the man she thought the world of. She knew if anything happened she would never be able to hold it against him if anything happened, even if it would always be his face in her mind killing Spencer. Because it wasn’t him. It was Lewis. It wasn’t him.

Hotch’s finger clicked a bullet into the chamber, pointing the gun at Spence’s crown, and she warbled in protest, because her legs were still numb, her body from the waist down useless, but this time she could scream and fight and yell all the ways she begged for this to stop.

“Hotch, please, please don’t. It’s not real, it’s not real,” She yawped, her chest in agony, her head spinning because she could have sworn Emily was just here, could have sworn she had been coming to save her. Why was Emily here? And she’d usually be embarrassed to admit it at her big age, but she wanted her sister. She wanted her big sister more than anything, “Hotch,”

But the man who looked and sounded like Aaron Hotchner wasn’t listening. Instead he looked at her with a steely glare, cocking the gun once more between his fingers, “If you’re too much a spoiled little bitch to choose, then I suppose I’ll have to do it for you,”

And with that he pulled the muzzle away from Spencer’s head, and before she could say another word, utter another plea, he angled the weapon under his chin, pointing it straight for his brain, and pulled the trigger.

She thinks she screamed, though her hearing had gone with a staticky blur, his blood spraying across the wall like something out of a slasher movie. She remembered howling in shock, her face soaked with ichor and salted tears, and she expected Spencer to rush forward, grab her in his arms and cradle her with soft words.

But he did. Those hazel eyes she would know in every life time stared blankly at her, all trace of terror gone from his gentle face, and in a whirl of movement, he was standing where Hotch had been, his body gone in a wisp of smoke, like he was nothing more than a magician’s magic act, like her chest hadn’t just cleaved in two at the sight of him dying.

And Spencer took his place, the lips she’d kissed a thousand times pressed into a scowl, the hands she wanted to melt under, to hold her and tell her he was going to fix everything and make it make sense again holding the loaded gun.

And at his feet, bound by the same rope he had been was JJ. Freightened, beaten. Mother, wife, best friend, sister. JJ.

“Choose,” Spencer said, but it was cold and unfeeling. Nothing like the saccharine tone he used with her, and she felt the pit of pain and suffering and dread that had opened in her stomach grow only deeper, “Me or her,”

–

She had cried for about two hours after that, and he had held her for all seven thousand, two hundred seconds of it, stroking her hair, reassuring her that Lewis was gone, the drug disposed of, and more importantly, telling her he would never let anything like that happen to her again, over his cold, lifeless body.

And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer would never let an UnSub get so close to harming the woman he loved. Not a bruise, or a cut. Not even a scratch.

And for the three days they’d kept her in for observation she’d slept, and slept some more like she hadn’t known a wink of rest in years. And with it came the nightmares, of all the people she loved splattering their own brains over the walls, Chose, chose, me or them?

But by the fourth day she was allowed more than one visitor in her room, the spot that had solely been filled by Spencer, who would take to his grave that he’d gone home and washed their clothes of the mess she’d made when she wasn’t herself.

And on that fourth day, the team had arrived with love by the bucket load, because Bugsy was family, and family never let each other suffer alone.

“Oh, look at you!” It was Penelope first, ofcourse it was Penelope first, “Spencer, where’s that cardigan I told you to bring her, she could get cold, and that purple is so her colour- oh what am I saying, come here!”

Penelope bounded over to her bedside, not completely blind to the way Spencer tensed up as she threw her arms around the girl, fighting his urge to chide Garcia into being more gentle because he knew he’d been hogging time with her while the others had been forced to wait.

“Pen,” Bugsy said, breathing out and hugging the woman back as hard as she could, “Why do you smell like lavender?”

Garcia released her clutches (reluctantly) and produced a big tote bag of trinkets, one of which Bugsy suspected was a candle.

“Spencer said they might be keeping you another couple of days and so I brought you some goodies to cheer this place up,” She said with a chirp, reaching in her bag for two stuffed teddies, and Bugsy’s eyes melted when she realised they resembled Niko and Sergio, their colourings not quite identical but the thought had been there, “So you don’t miss your boys too much.”

Bugsy smiled, her chest spreading with warmth “Thankyou so much, Penelope,”

And Garcia went to respond, her smile wide and relieved, when another voice spoke up behind her, “Quite hogging her, mama, there are people waiting to see the kid,”

Penelope rolled her eyes which made Bugsy snicker slightly, moving out the way for Derek to lean over her bedside and give her a tight squeeze.

“You gave us a scare and a half, baby cakes,” He said with a sigh, and she hugged him back the best she could, though his arm muscles were the size of her head.

“I’m sorry,” She murmured, and he patted her on the back gently, before letting her go for the next person waiting to pounce on her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to be sorry,” JJ shushed, her slender arms all but crushing her into her chest, and she heard the breath of relief from the woman’s throat as she stroked a hand over her spine, “Just get better for us, okay?”

And Bugsy knew she didn’t mean the crack in her nose Peter Lewis had given her when he’d grabbed her by the nape of her neck and slammed her face into the wooden door the second Hotch’s back was turned. She meant the screaming. The nightmares. The chill that ran down her spine even now when she looked at every one of her friends and remembered that night. Picturing their brains on the wall, their blood on her face-

“Henry drew you a picture,” JJ said, pulling away and presenting her with her own gift basket full of homemade goodies and fresh pyjamas because the ones she had from the hospital were starting to itch, “He said you needed magic kisses,”

Plucking the card from the front of the wrapping, her lips quirked into a smile when she saw two stick figures, a small dot with yellow hair labelled ‘henry’ with an arrow, and a tall woman with a triangle dress and two glittery wings labelled ‘bugy’, and she was almost certain it was because they had played fairies and princes the last time she had gone over.

She flipped the page, and saw his hand writing scrawled in a green crayon, a few spelling errors here and there where he had tried his best.

‘to bugy

mommy said you wer hurt at work and needed somethink to make you happy agan.

I gave the card majick kisses before mommy takes it to the hospital to make you better agan.

also plees coud we play princes again some time soon.

Love Henry’

She chuckled, her finger stroking over the letters gently, because she could imagine him at his little blue table writing it out for her, and she handed it off to Spencer to put on her bedside table.

“Thankyou JJ,” She said earnestly, and the blonde nodded, squeezing her leg under the blanket gently before she moved over for Rossi to shuffle in, ruffling the girl’s hair because he would joke later that his back couldn’t handle all the movement when really he felt like she’d been mauled with enough affection for one day.

“You okay, kid?” He said, his eyes roving over the bruise on her nose that had bled into her eyes, and she nodded, smiling up at him somewhat convincingly.

“I’m still kicking aren’t I?” She said, and the older man chuckled, shaking his head, “Can’t get rid of me that easily,”

And it was almost true, the small seed of double planting in her own head because for a second in that house she had thought things were done for her. And Spencer had thought the same, judging by the way he nervously cleared his throat, playing with the collars of his shirt.

But Rossi nodded with her, “You kidding? There’s enough life left in you to resurrect all of my dead end marriages,” The team snickered, Rossi squeezing her arm the way grandads do, “Kate sends her love, she had to take Meg to her dance recital, she said she’s dropping by later with good coffee,”

Bugsy took a sigh of pleasure, because she would kill for a steaming cup of good coffee, and Rossi smiled at her attitude they’d all missed in the office.

And then there was Hotch, who looked damn near like a dog with a tail between his legs, sporting his own jagged forehead wound that had been stitched up, his lips pulled into a guilty pout unlike everyone else's grateful beams.

“Bugsy,” He started mournfully, and he swallowed heavily, “I’m-”

“Don’t-” She shook her head, looking up at him from where she’d sat up in the bed to accommodate everyone’s hugging, “It wasn’t your fault, so don’t give me that. He caught us both of guard,”

But he still didn’t look like he quite accepted that answer, settling to reach out and squeeze the hand that was laying across her stomach, his skin warm and rough as he held her like she was cracking glass under his touch.

She realised she had been wrong that day with Lewis, when she’d been damn near shaking in her spot because of the man who looked so much like Hotch, and she saw the fatal flaw that gave it all away.

His face was set in a frown more often than not, and it was for that reason a lot of the agents on the other floors lived in fear of SSA Hotchner’s thunderous tone and barking attitude, but Bugsy knew that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Because while he could be cold and domineering and bossy, his eyes told her all she needed to know.

He was hurt. He was guilty. He was worried. He was mourning. He couldn’t stop seeing Peter Lewis slitting her throat in that flash of a blade. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her incase it was all a dream in itself, that they had never been found, he had never woke up, they had never saved her.

His eyes were haunted by the past twenty years of his life, perhaps what happened even before then because she wasn’t so stupid to miss how he was more rough on child beaters and abusive fathers than he was their usual UnSubs, how he was so extra gentle with Jack, how he hated raising his voice. And inside the big scary exterior, Bugsy saw a boy who only wanted to save everyone because no one was ever there to save him.

She squeezed his hand tightly in hers, pulling him towards her and he’d resisted hugging her to start with because he knew the frog would leap into his throat, but he could never deny her. And he didn’t, he simply leaned over, caressed the back of her head over his shoulder with one of his enormous palms and gave her a warm hug no monster or demon or whatever she had seen could ever be capable of.

And Bugsy felt stupid for ever believing anything she’d seen.

–

They stayed for another hour or so, Derek running out to grab Bugsy a subway because the food at the hospital hadn’t been the best, and she had devoured the steak and cheese footlong so fast Rossi’s brows had raised into his hairline. Spencer handed her a strawberry flavoured pudding pot, the lid already peeled open for her and a spoon.

And it was then a figure came rushing through the door, so fast they were surprised they hadn’t heard the heels on the linoleum and the whole room stopped for a breath, Bugsy dropped her pudding cup down her shirt, barely even making her first bite count.

“Why did no one tell me those two were screwing for eight months?” Emily barked, gesturing between the two agents that cuddled up on the hospital bed, and almost as soon as the pure joy to see her older sister had flooded her body, it ebbed again, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“Eleven hour flight, Em, and a buttload of head trauma and that’s all you have to say to me?” She snipped, mopping up her pudding with the edge of her finger.

“I got weekly updates about the consistency of Sergio’s bowel movements but this you missed out?” She threw her hands up, sighing in contempt and almost immediately the girls were bickering like they hadn’t spent a single day apart from one another, but then Spencer supposed that’s what happened when you were blood.

And part of him wondered just who was going to tell Emily about the proposal, the same small part that had gone and bought the ring just yesterday while she’d been sleeping.

He supposed he could live with it being his secret for a few weeks longer.

TAGLISTS:

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#spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew grey gubler x reader #emily prentiss x sister!reader

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fkinavocado · 1 year ago

Text

Warnings: 18+, smut, subrry, unprotected sex, friends to lovers

Word count: 7.5k

Pretty like yours

Your eyes were glued to those slutty yellow shorts. You just couldn’t force them to look away. Trusting that your sunglasses would conceal your ogling, you were facing the shoreline- thankfully women had good peripheral vision so you could get away with it.

But damn, was he hot. Hotter than the scorching sun, setting you afire more than the offending rays. You’d taken a time out from their volleyball game to go reapply sunscreen, but you weren’t sure you even wanted to go back. You had a much better view from where you were sat on the beach lounger. You couldn’t really focus on eyefucking him while you were playing, well, not without making a fool of yourself. And you couldn’t have that.

Not now that Harry was finally single.

God, you’d waited ages for him to finally be back on the market. You’d had the fattest crush on him ever since you met, ever since this whole group of friends from uni had formed, and it’d been absolute torture spending so much time with him knowing you couldn’t put the moves on him.

Not that morals had gotten in your way, no. You would’ve gladly set caution to the wind for Harry, but you just knew you wouldn’t have stood a chance. He’d been a lovesick puppy, to the point where it was actually quite sickening; to the point where your friends had to ask him not to bring his girlfriend along anymore when you all went out together because they were just too sickeningly in love. (You may or may not have been one of said friends). His ex wasn’t part of the group, not attending your university, and so was considered an “outsider”, and none of you ever brought your partners along when you all hung out, so Harry had only ever brought her to parties from then on. Parties you tended to avoid, as you weren’t exactly a huge fan out seeing them make out and get all handsy with each other, more so than they already were, especially a few drinks in.

You took a sip of water that was beginning to get way too warm and then got back to ogling him, planning your attack. You couldn’t help but smile at how he kept trying to move his hair out of his face, the breeze making it difficult for him to actually focus on the game. He’d let it grow out and now it was shoulder length. It made him unbearably hotter (which you wouldn’t have thought possible).

You were snapped out your reverie when you saw Harry wave at you, a smile on his face. You were momentarily taken aback to see him smile, he’d been sulking for the majority of the weekend trip to the beach, so initially you didn’t even realise he was waving at you.

But when he walked away from the group and started heading towards the beach loungers you knew you’d been caught staring. You’d seemingly forgotten to pretend you weren’t looking in that direction after having had some water.

Well, since you’d been caught you didn’t bother looking away as he walked over. At least he couldn’t see the way your eyes scanned him head to toe ever so slowly behind your glasses, taking in every bit of that tan skin, well defined muscles, tattoos on full display, and those offending itty bitty yellow shorts that did nothing to conceal the bulge he was sporting.

He sat down on the chaise next to yours and grabbed the water bottle, grimacing after taking a large gulp. “This is boiling at this point… Hey, you never got back; kinda hard to play a fair game with uneven team players.”

“Eh, wasn’t really feeling it.”

“Did you need help?”

“Hm?”

He looked down your body and you tried not to dwell on how his eyes seemed to have lingered for a tad longer on your boobs before travelling back up to meet your eyes “You said you’d take a time out to apply sunscreen; did you?”

Even you had forgotten you’d used that as an excuse to extricate yourself from the game. “Oh. Hadn’t gotten to it yet, was just… you know, catching my breath for a moment.”

“For a moment.” He flashed his dimpled smile at you, and you forced yourself not to furrow your brows. Was he onto you, had you really been that obvious?

Before you could clear the air, he reached for the bags and fished out the SPF. “Scoot forward, I’ll do your back.”

You did as instructed and felt Harry sit behind you, his thick, muscly thighs on either side of yours with how close behind he was sitting, and then felt him gently sweep your hair over your shoulders and to the front. “The waves look really good on you.”

You were glad he couldn’t see you blushing. It’s not that Harry hadn’t complimented you before, he was very considerate and nice overall- with all of your friends. But you couldn’t help but hope that maybe now that he was single he might start to see you in a different light.

“Thanks. It’s from how I kept it in braids.”

You felt him smooth his big palms over your back after you’d heard him massage the lotion in between them for a while to ensure it wouldn’t be too cold, although you’d have probably welcomed the sensation with how hot it was.

“It’s almost as curly as mine now.”

You tried your best not to make any embarrassing noises with how good it felt to have him massage the lotion into your skin. He moved his hands slowly but deliberately, working the SPF into your skin. It felt heavenly.

“Well, not quite,” you smiled. “Yours grew out so much, H. I was actually admiring it when you walked back here, it really suits you. Though it seemed to be a pain playing volleyball, you should tie it up to keep it out of your face now that it’s long enough.”

“Thanks…” you could hear the coy smile in his voice. You couldn’t understand how this man could grow shy when this whole beach had been eyefucking him since you’d gotten there, and the others hadn’t been nearly as stealthy about it as you’d been.

“Want me to braid it for you?”

Harry’s hands stilled on either side of your waist, squeezing the plush skin there. “Oh? Do you think it’s long enough…?”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, pretending to assess the length, but really, you just lingered on his lips the most. He was so close. And his lips were so kissable. They had this really pretty, dusty rose hue to them, something men shouldn’t be endowed with to begin with. You had to layer on a number of lip products to get yours to look this good.

“Yeah. Hop on the sand in front of the chaise and I’ll do it right now if you want.”

You watched those perfect lips stretch into a beautiful smile, his dimples making an appearance as well and stealing your attention for a bit. “Yeah? Ok!” He stood up and did as instructed sitting between your legs now, as you scooted even closer to the edge of the seat. “Wait, don’t forget to put on lotion first.”

“No, I’ll just get my hands all oily, I don’t wanna mess up your hair. I’ll do it after.”

“I’ve never had it braided before.” You could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. “Think it’ll look pretty like yours?”

You bit back your smile, trying to focus on the task at hand. You ran your fingers through his curls first, trying your very best to detangle the hair without pulling at the strands at all. His hair was very soft to the touch, even with how much you’d all been swimming since you’d gotten there. “Prettier. Your hair’s so soft. What’s your secret, hm? Mine is already so stiff with all the salty seawater, but I guess it helped with the waves since I let it dry braided, so I can’t complain.”

Harry didn’t reply. His head was hung back as he rested against the edge of the chaise, and he even let out a breathy moan when you used your nails a bit to separate the strands one from another. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?” you teased.

“I might need you to do this everyday, feels amazin’.”

You softly chuckled and began braiding, making sure to keep his hair taught, pulling on it a bit to get the desired effect, but Harry seemed to really enjoy it. His mouth fell agape and his eyes were closed and you took your sweet time with each braid, savouring the experience as much as he was.

“You deserve it, H… You know, I’m glad you came along this weekend, was afraid you’d skip again. We missed you.”

He fluttered his eyes open at that, and ran his hands up and down his thighs absentmindedly, his knees bent to his chest. Those meaty thighs had made a guest appearance in your dreams more than once, and you eyed his tiger tattoo smiling to yourself remembering one of your more recent fantasies about it. You willed your mind out of the gutter, though.

“You know you can talk about it, if you want, right? I’m here.” You spoke softly, coaxing him to open up to you. Not only to get closer to him, but you were genuinely worried for him. The others loved to tease him about it, but you could tell he was frustrated with how he probably couldn’t confide in any of them, lest he be teased even more for it.

He nodded, careful not to move his head too much and accidentally ruin your handiwork.

“I can tell you’re heartbroken. Just… want you to be happy.” You finished braiding, tying his hair using the same elastics you’d taken out of your own hair, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, then circled your arms around his shoulders, hugging him from behind.

He reached to grab one of your hands in his and squeezed it as he leaned his temple against yours. “I’ll be alright… eventually. Right?”

His voice was so small and dejected that it made your own heart break a little. He was hurting more than he was letting on. You knew he’d been with his ex for almost 2 years, and although you hadn’t had such a long relationship yourself, you knew it couldn’t have been easy. You’d also never been in love, so you couldn’t even imagine what he was going through. You didn’t know why they’d broken up, but you had a feeling his ex had been the one to break his heart, not the other way around.

“Of course, H. You’ll be fine. I promise. Don’t you trust me?” You mumbled against his ear reassuringly.

“I do.”

“It’s ok to be sad. But you’ll soon be happy again, happier even. Because you don’t need someone who doesn’t appreciate you, yeah? You’re such a great guy, and anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you. I promise you’ll find someone who’ll make you forget about her altogether.”

Harry sighed heavily. You weren't even sure he’d listened to any of what you’d told him. He interlocked your fingers and brought your conjoined hands lower, pressing them to his chest, against his heart. “Think it’s ever gonna beat right again?”

You chuckled at how corny he was “Yes, you big ol’ softie, you. Someone will take all the broken pieces and carefully glue them right back together and it’ll be as good as new in no time. Better even, like kintsugi.” He turned his head to look at you confusedly and you explained, “you know, the japanese art of glueing back broken objects with gold.”

You pulled back, grabbed the lotion and stood up. Squirted some into your palms and started massaging it all over your torso. Harry looked up at you and shielded his eyes, and you moved one of your feet between his legs so you’d block the sun from getting into his eyes. “Wanna go for a swim, now that you’re all fit to brave the waves with your new braids?”

Harry smoothed his palm gently over his hair, feeling for the braids, almost as though he’d forgotten all about them. He watched you intently as you rubbed the lotion into your skin, bent at the waist to reach your thighs and now your calves, and when you stood back upright you could’ve sworn his eyes had been glued to your cleavage. Which, in all fairness, you’d hung your tits right in his face- you’d have found it weird if he hadn’t. Heartbroken or not, he was still a man. And you looked good in that bikini, if you did say so yourself.

And he looked good with his hair braided like that, too. There was just something about Harry that made him look hot no matter what, he didn’t even have to look too manly. In fact, that was one of the things you’d always loved about him. He wasn’t afraid to show off his feminine side. He was a pretty boy as much as he was a handsome man. He just knew how to flaunt both sides in equal measure and that made him all that more attractive in your eyes.

You were once more snapped out of your train of thought when you felt his nimble fingers on your ankle, he was touching your ankle bracelet, fidgeting its trinkets. He then wrapped his hand around the ankle and slowly looked back up at you. “No, you go. I’ll head back to the hotel for a bit.”

He then removed his hand and you took a step back to allow him to stand, now towering over you and you wondered whether you’d pushed it a bit too far. He looked… slightly annoyed, and visibly saddened. That frown line erased all his sweet, feminine features and you wished you could just smooth it out, running your fingers over it and caressing all over his face, much like you did with his hair. You almost did so, when he took a step back and then turned towards the hotel that was right across the private beach, a small walk away.

You let out a breathy sigh. You’d probably been a bit too nosey, he was likely not ready to hear all that yet. He’d just broken up with his ex, and he was allowed to feel sorry for himself and still miss her.

You got into the water knee-deep, contemplating all this, when you realized you’d used your hairties on Harry, and you really didn’t feel like getting your hair all wet again. Not now that, without the braids, it’d just dry down all wonky and you wanted to keep the waves. Especially with how Harry had complimented you.

With a huff, you walked back to shore and everyone was back at your spot, drinking water and making plans for early dinner. They were contemplating going to a spot by the pier so they wouldn’t have to bother getting dressed, but you opted out. The way Harry had left all dejected didn’t sit right with you, and you feared you’d crossed a line and upset him with what you’d said. You wanted to go make sure he was ok.

“You guys go along, not feeling very hungry. Catch you later.”

“Where’s Harry?”

“I texted him and he didn’t get back to me. Y/N, mind dropping by our room and see if he wants to grab dinner with us? He’ll be even grumpier if he finds out he missed out ‘cause he’s been too busy sulking over Marrisa.”

Sarah elbowed Mitch, “Hey. Come on guys, quit teasing him. He’s clearly very upset over this, and this trip was supposed to help him take his mind off things. Your constant nagging is just making matters worse.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, “It’s been over a month, how long is he gonna moan about it? So what, she cheated on him- life goes on! He needs to get out there and have some fun and put this all behind him.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him, and you knew Mitch was in for it. They thought they were being sneaky, but everyone knew they were getting cosy with each other as of late. It was still early days, you could tell, but Mitch might have just dug his grave with this one.

“Yeah, I’ll drop by your room and ask him, he’s probably napping though so I won’t wake him up if that’s the case.”

“I mean… if he’s grumpy we didn’t wake him up for dinner, it’s on you.”

“No pressure,” you gulped audibly for dramatic effect and began walking back to the hotel. You really hoped he wasn’t, in fact, napping, and not just for everyone’s sake. You wanted to clear the air a bit and apologise if you’d struck a chord earlier.

You were just about to knock when you heard something on the other side of his hotel room. You decided to stick your ear against the door and make sure you weren’t hearing things before actually knocking, and there it was again, only this time, louder. Clearer.

Was he unwell?

Maybe it was sun poisoning. You felt bad to just walk away without offering to help. So you decided to knock on the door softly. “Harry?”

After a long pause that had you convinced he hadn’t heard you and ready to knock again, you heard him. “...Yes?”

“Are you alright in there?… Can I help? Do you need anything?”

Silence.

You were starting to grow worried, why wasn’t he answering right away if he could hear you?

“I… I think I do, yeah.”

“What is it? Tell me. You’re worrying me.”

You heard him fumble around a bit and could tell he was getting up from bed and finally, finally, he opened the door the tiniest bit, his body behind it. He looked flushed and a bit sweaty.

When he wouldn’t speak, his eyes downcast, you reached out to touch his forehead. “You’re warm, what’s the matter? Is it sun poisoning? Or were you having a bad dream? It sounded like you were in pain. Came to check if you wanted to join the guys for dinner.”

“They’re out at dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t wanna go?”

You huffed at his avoidency. “Well can I come in, or are we gonna keep talking in the doorway? Wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

He cleared his throat and stepped back, making room for you to step inside and closed the door behind you, locking it. You raised an eyebrow at the sound, turned around and noticed he was holding the bedsheet tightly around his waist.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

“Yeah, uhm… Earlier, I got the vibe that I might have upset you… with what I said, about Marissa. I know it’s shitty to hear bad stuff about your ex soon after the break-up, like, it never really sits right even if it’s true and even if the person meant well saying those things, to help you move on… I know it’s not how it works. But I was just trying to make you feel better.”

Harry exhaled audibly through his nose, leaning against the doorframe. “I know you meant well. And it was true. I know you’re right, everyone’s right…”

“The guys are being jerks, teasing you like that. But they do mean well…”

"Yeah…” he cleared his throat after a beat, glancing at you from under his thick lashes, a smile playing on his lips. “You were trying to make me feel better?”

You gave him a small smile back “Of course.”

“You offered to help earlier.”

You furrowed your brows, looking around for something amiss. He seemed fine. You’d forgotten all about those noises from earlier. When you looked back at him readying yourself to ask him what was wrong again, he bit his lower lip and pulled the bedsheet off himself.

“Oh… my God.” You covered your mouth in disbelief, your eyes glued to his glorious cock, all hard and heavy. You watched as it twitched at your reaction and you couldn’t stifle a moan at the sight.

Harry’s lips curled up in a smug smile, he was happy with your reaction, if a bit shy. You could tell he was struggling to silence the thoughts that were no doubt running through his mind. He was recently broken up and most probably still in love with his ex. But clearly, he wanted to do something about that. And he wanted your help with it.

“Are you… are you sure?” you decided to risk it and ask, the last thing you wanted was for him to regret this and avoid you as a result.

“Do I look unsure?”

“I mean… depends where I’m looking. Your eyes tell a different story…” you walked closer to him and made sure to keep eye contact, as much as you wanted to keep staring at his naked body. You wanted to feel him out and also show him you were being mindful of his emotions.

His gaze darkened a bit, staring at your lips. “Came back here to feel sorry for myself, but I couldn’t stop picturing you from earlier… in this skimpy little bikini.” His eyes raked down your body, using the opportunity to get a good eyeful of you upclose. “I was imagining you’d followed me back here. Got a semi at the beach with how you ran your fingers through my hair, loved it when you pulled at the strands a bit… was imagining you doing it on purpose, to tease me. I know you…” he lowered his eyes again, a shy smile on his lips “I know you are a bit more dominant... you’ve mentioned it a few times. I’ve always been curious about that, never had anyone boss me around in bed. I’ve wondered what it’d be like, and it always gets me so hard…”

“...Always?” All of this was a shock to you, but here he was implying he’d fantasised about you before.

“I sometimes used to catch myself fantasising about you… and I willed those thoughts away.” You watched as he grabbed himself, stroking lazily, shuddering at the contact. “But now that I don’t have to anymore… it’s you, everytime I touch myself.”

You were stunned. And also, you couldn’t get your eyes off of how he was stroking his cock. Had he been doing this ever since he’d gotten to the hotel room? “You’ve, uhm… you’ve been back here a while.”

“Yeah. It’s getting painful. But I love edging myself,” he shrugged and lowered his gaze. He was just unbearably hot when he acted all shy like that. And you knew it wasn’t just an act, he really was like that, he’d always been like that. Both cocky and shy in equal measures, much like his feminine side. It was a heady mix. “Although, I’m pretty sure I’d love being edged more,” he added, his voice small.

“You really were thinking about me?” you whispered, getting even closer, close enough that your noses were almost touching.

He nodded, causing the tips of your noses to touch just like you’d foreseen. “Is that so wrong? So… soon? And even before… I didn’t mean to. I tried not to. I always told myself I was just curious about being with someone more dominant. But it’s not just that. It’s you.”

Damn.

Feeling like that was more than enough confirmation that this wasn’t just a hasty, heat of the moment thing that he’d regret later on, you bridged the small distance and moulded your lips to his.

And with how shy he tended to get, you expected him to be hesitant and tentative but Harry grabbed you by the hips and pressed you flush against his naked frame, making sure you felt exactly how hard he was against your belly. You couldn’t even really focus on that, not when his tongue was licking gently at your lower lip, begging for entry, which you welcomed with enthusiasm. He was such a naturally good kisser, none of it felt mechanic in the least, he wasn’t trying to impress, wasn’t trying to keep it nice and contained, he was giving it his all without being overwhelming. Sloppy, but still intense. You felt dizzy already.

It was such an overload of feelings. The smell of him so upclose- he’d been running around the beach in the sun and his natural scent mixed with saltwater from the swimming was making you dizzy; the way you could feel his breathing fan your cheeks; feeling him solid and real underneath your palms as you steadied yourself, snaking your arms around his neck- it was all making you feral. You’d imagined this so many times but this was so much better than you’d ever allowed yourself to fantasise.

You pulled back a bit, making a mental note of doing this right, making it good for him. You wanted to show him how good you could be for him, wanted to get him hooked on you now that he’d gotten a taste. You didn’t know whether this would just be a one time thing, or if it’d turn into something casual, a friends with benefits type of situation perhaps, or maybe even more than that. You didn’t want to dwell on it yet. You were perfectly fine with any of the options, in truth. It was Harry, not a random bloke, and as open minded as you were, still, you weren’t the kind to just sleep around. You knew that, with him, it’d never feel cheap or meaningless.

“Tell me what you need, Harry. Wanna hear you say it.”

And there it was, his shyness was overcoming him again, and you didn’t allow him to look away, not when you reached out and grabbed his cock from in between you, stroking it gently, mindful of tugging too hard on his soft yet dry shaft.

His mouth fell agape and his eyes rounded with lust, and when you swiped at the precome at his tip he squeezed his eyes shut to compose himself. “I just need you. Need you to make me feel good, however you see fit.”

“Yeah, want me to take the lead, then? Make all the decisions, have you not worry about any of it? Order you around, dominate you?”

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours and then chasing your lips with his and you tutted, “Ah, ah. Be a good boy, then. If you want something, ask for it.”

“Okay.” His voice was small and whiney, he was gone. “Can I keep kissing you, please?”

You hummed your approval “There’s a good boy.” You hovered over his lips, still tugging at him nice and slow, making him pant in anticipation. “Go on then, kiss me.”

You got lost in the kiss. It felt too good to be just a kiss, you were wondering how you were going to handle more. And more seemed to be exactly what he had in mind as well, his hands starting to roam gently over your body. “Ah, puppy, you were doing so good. Hands behind your back until you learn to ask, alright?” He complied reluctantly, visibly frustrated because he’d really wanted to cup a feel, but also just as visibly excited to do things on your terms and finally get a taste of what this new dynamic might feel like.

“Tell you what, I”ll let you kiss what you can’t touch yet, how’s that sound?”

He whimpered at the sound of that and you walked back towards the bed and sat at the edge. “Go on then, on your knees pretty boy.” You willed yourself to take it slow, make it a pleasurable experience for him- a memorable experience. Reminded yourself to pay special attention to his body language, as he wouldn’t know to communicate if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with any of what you planned on doing. This was uncharted territory for him. You had to be responsible and make him feel safe at his most vulnerable. So, you couldn’t lose yourself in it and dive right in, as you would with people that have toyed with powerplay before.

You couldn’t wait to have your way with him, but as it just so happens, you were also very much into edging as well, so, really, it was a win-win.

You parted your knees for him to kneel in between and then moved your hands behind your back, untying your bra and slowly peeling it off of your torso. His eyes darkened considerably at the sight of your bare breasts, and his hands came to rest over your thighs as he got closer, growing a lot more impatient. You swatted them away, “Hands behind your back, Harry. Don’t make me have to tell you again.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry– I just… Fuck, Y/N,” he shook his head, trying to calm himself down, hands obediently behind his back. “Can I taste, then? Please?”

You smirked at him, happy to see he was playing along as you’d hoped “Of course you can, baby. Been waiting for you to wrap those pretty pink lips around my nipples. Go on then,” you brought his head closer by the back of his neck, guiding him towards your left breast and he immediately latched onto it, sucking greedily, his mouth nice and warm and wet, making you throw your head back. “Oh god, so good. Love your mouth, puppy.”

Harry looked blissed out, alternating between sucking on your nipple and licking all around it, mouthing at the underside of your boob and over to the other one, lathering them both in his saliva, wet and noisy and perfect, just like you knew he’d be. “Been waiting for this?” He mumbled against your bud watching for your reaction, and even though he was trying to tease a bit you could see vulnerability in his eyes as he waited for your reply.

You nodded, biting your lower lip “Have had the fattest crush on you ever since I can remember. Fuck, I could come from this alone…” you whined, he was really good at this. But then again, you always knew he’d be. Just because he hadn’t explored his subby side didn’t mean he hadn’t explored everything else. “Don’t act surprised. I’m sure it was painfully obvious,” you murmured, your turn to feel shy.

That made him moan against your breast, biting on the plump flesh and no doubt leaving a bit of a mark and you allowed it, since you loved it so much anyway. “Wish I’d known sooner.”

You didn’t dwell on it for too long. You couldn’t allow yourself to, didn’t wanna catch the wrong idea and get ahead of yourself. Maybe you’ll talk about it later, but right now? Right now he was working you up into a frenzy. “Well, you know about it now. What’cha gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

“Whatever you want me to do.”

You sunk your fingers between his braids and tugged at the roots a bit, unlatching his mouth from your breasts. The lewdest moan left his lips before you pulled him in for another sloppy kiss. He was growing needy and you could practically see him slip further and further into his subspace. “Love this greedy mouth, H. What else can it do, hm?”

“Please, Y/N. Let me eat that pussy.”

You smirked, that was music to your ears. “Good boy, puppy. Love it when you ask nicely. You gonna lap me up, make me come on your tongue?”

“Please, please.” He reached to kiss you again and you laughed against his mouth.

“Greedy puppy. Remember you need to ask first. You’ll learn though, won’t you?”

“I’ll do anything. I’m sorry, I will. Just– please...”

“You can use your hands to hold me open, but I only want your mouth on my pussy. Alright? I’ll let you know when you can do more.”

He nodded vigorously against your lips and kissed you a few more times for good measure before pulling back a bit and watching as you untied your bikini from the sides, pulling the damp fabric off of you and finally exposing yourself to him fully.

You scooted back a bit, leaning on your elbows and gestured for him to have at it. With laboured breathing, he glanced at you for a second before he pressed his hands against the undersides of your thighs and planted the soles of your feet on the edge of the bed, spreading you open for him.

He moaned loudly at the sight, his eyebrows pinching together as if in pain. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re dripping for me. Fuck, fuck…”

“Do something about it, then.” Your own voice was starting to betray just how far gone you were as well. You were gagging for it now, but you were hellbent on dragging this out for his sake more than yours. All you wanted was for him to sink that glorious cock inside of you and end your suffering, but you could wait it out a bit, especially when it meant watching him stare at your pussy as though it was his favourite dessert.

He wasted no time, bending over you and dragging his tongue slowly up your folds in one delicious swipe. He wrapped his lips around your clit, humming loudly against it, and your head fell back, crying out your pleasure when he started lapping at you in earnest. He made sure to sink the tip of his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole on each pass, then dragged it back up focusing on your clit again.

He ate you out like he was kissing you, same sloppy, yet intense, unpracticed manner. He just did what felt right to him and what he found you were most responsive to. Right off the bat, you could tell you were done for. This man ate pussy like it was his favourite cheat meal.

“So good, Y/N. Fuck, I’m losing it.”

“Wanna use your fingers, pretty boy? Slide one or two inside of me, feel me out? Coat those pretty, painted nails in my juices?”

Harry whined “Pretty like yours?”

“Prettier,” you smiled remembering your same reply from earlier on the beach.

A strangled moan escaped his lips as he buried his face against your core and nuzzled your clit with that perfect nose of his. He was hellbent on getting you off, and truth be told, you were holding off your orgasm. Nobody had gotten you there quite as fast before.

“Do it then, get me nice and ready for that big fat cock of yours.”

He groaned, resting his forehead against your thigh momentarily, then shook his head smilingly. He was both in agony and ecstasy, the anticipation visibly killing him. He brought his middle finger to his mouth, sucking on it, getting it all nice and wet and you caught his wrist before he brought it to your weeping core, wrapping your own lips around it first.

He cried out as though you’d just taken his cock in your mouth instead, which was exactly what you’d hoped for. “Now get to it, baby. Wanna soak those fingers.”

“Fuck. Yes, please.” He got right to it, running his finger through your folds before finally sinking it inside you, agonisingly slowly. “So tight, fuck, Y/N. Can’t wait to bury myself in this snug little pussy…”

He leaned back in to suck on your clit as he began petting your front wall with the pad of his meaty finger and you collapsed on your back completely. When he added a second finger, you lost it.

“So good, Harry. Fuck, you’re so good. Eat that pussy just right. Gonna come all over your pretty face.”

“Please, please do it, Y/N. Need it.” He whined, increasing the speed of his thrusts and pressure he applied to your g-spot. He lapped and sucked on your clit noisily, moaning everytime you clamped around his fingers, getting closer and closer to your release.

And when you finally came, he kept at it, burying his face flush against your pussy and lapping up all your juice like a starved man. You knew if he kept going you’d come again, but that would take too much out of you and you still wanted him to fuck you.

You wasted no time, bending to kiss his lips in gratitude while you still felt some of the aftershocks run through you. “Need you inside me now, baby. Want you to ruin me, think you can do that?”

He nodded against your lips, smearing your arousal all over your own face as well and he then went to kitten-lick it off of you as you crawled back on the bed, pulling him with you. “I can, I know I can. Let me be good for you, Y/N.”

“You’re so good for me, H. Made me see stars with how good you are. I just know once you sink inside me you’ll ruin me for everyone else. Want you to.”

Harry looked as though he was high. As though he couldn’t believe what he was experiencing was actually real. He looked dazed out and he was sweating, panting heavily in anticipation. “Been edging myself for a while, and I almost came when I had my mouth on you. Dunno how long I’m gonna last… will you give me another chance if, if–”

You chuckled softly at how frenzied he seemed “I won’t mind if you come fast, puppy. Just ask me for permission before you do, alright? We got all the time to play, and I still wanna suck you off, too. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I knew you’d not last long and I wanted to edge you a bit first, since you told me you’d like it. Did you not like it, baby?”

“I loved it, love you telling me what to do, when to do it. Never had this before. Never knew how much I needed it. Please, Y/N, I need to be inside you.”

You opened up your thighs even more for him “Rub that pretty cock all over my pussy, Harry, get it nice and wet.”

He bit his lower lip, positioning himself right at your entrance and wrapping his hand around himself finally. He squeezed tightly, trying to compose himself a bit and then dragged himself between your folds just like you’d told him to. He slapped his tip against your clit a few times which made you arch your back and then felt him at your entrance, the stretch already making you clamp around his tip.

“Go on, puppy, fuck me good. Want to feel you all the way up into my belly.”

Harry groaned loudly at your words and the feel of you engulfing him perfectly. Once he got his fat head past your entrance, and you clamped down on him on instinct, he pulled back, making you cry out.

“Sorry, sorry! Fuck, that was–”

“It’s alright baby, try again, I know you can do it. Know you can hold off a bit, be a good boy, hm? I need you so much.” You whined, pulling him in for a kiss and giving him a moment of reprieve to gather his bearings.

He didn’t even need to guide himself into you, he was hard enough to push right in, and you didn’t break the kiss as you moaned into each other’s mouths. You let him kiss you as he slowly worked his way inside you, all the way to the hilt and you threw your head back when he pushed against your cervix deliciously. “Fuck me, you’re so deep; gonna be so sore, Harry. Make it hurt, baby, come on.”

Harry gritted his teeth, mustering all his stamina to focus. He was too far gone to tease, and so were you, so he sat back on his haunches and threw your legs over his shoulders, thrusting into you at a fast, steady pace. He held your hips tightly at first, then moved his large hands lower under your bum, lifting it off the mattress and working you over him to meet his thrusts all the more intensely. You cried out, it was a lot to take in. He was quite large and girthy as it was, and he was rock hard. But it hurt so good.

When you reached your hand to rub your clit, Harry groaned so loud you thought he was coming. But he pushed through, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on holding off. “None of that, puppy. Look at me. Look what you do to me. Gonna come for you again, I’m so close. Please. If you’re a good boy I’ll let you come all over my tits… you know… since we skipped the rubber.”

Harry’s eyes went from blissed out to shocked, his movements slowing down considerably- he’d clearly absolutely forgotten all about protection.

“Relax, H. I’m on birth control. And I’m clean.” And, you’d totally forgot about it too. So you couldn’t let him take all the blame for being reckless.

Harry choked out a sigh of relief. “I am too! Got tested after I found out she’d been cheating… Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N… we hadn’t been using any, she was on the pill… It totally slipped my mind–”

You took the opportunity to flip him over and straddle him. “Shhh. Enough of that. You’ve been so good for me, baby. Just sit back and let me take care of my good boy.”

You wasted no time getting you both back on the brink of orgasm. Harry even brought his thumb to your clit, as his large hands held you flush against him, coaxing you to grind yourself on him as deep as he would go, remembering to ask for permission first, which made you whimper and praise him for being so well mannered.

“Please, Y/N… wanna be good for you… but–”

“Wanna come, puppy?”

He nodded frantically “I’m gonna burst, it’s too good… you’re too good. You feel amazing. You’re such a wet dream, Y/N.”

His voice was raspy with need. You could tell he was trying his level best to wait for you to come, and you decided to have mercy on him “Beg. Beg for me to let you come, Harry.”

He threw his head back, his muscles taut, struggling to hold off. “Please, please… Fuck, I’m desperate, please baby…”

“Hmmm… should I? I haven’t come yet…” you teased, clamping down around him to push him over the edge.

But you gasped in surprise when he pulled you flush against him, holding you tight, and started thrusting into you with wild abandon as he panted into your ear “I’m begging. Come for me, Y/N. Please. Need you to come. Give it to me.”

You lost it. The sudden flip in demeanour had you spiralling, and he was fucking into you so good, the angle just right, that it threw you over the edge, taking you completely by surprise. You’d been extremely close, but the way he went about it had made you come instantly.

Feeling you spasm all around him and hearing you moan and whimper loudly had him join you immediately. You were both crying out your pleasure, and it was downright pornographic. You’d kept it at a reasonable volume throughout, seeing that you were in a hotel room and knowing your friends might come back from dinner any moment, but neither could hold back when you finally reached your peaks.

Harry kept you flush against him as you both tried steadying your breathing and your heartbeats and then searched for your mouth, giving you a lazy kiss. “Sorry for not asking permission… at the end, there.”

The hint of mischief in his voice wasn’t lost on you. You hummed, biting his lower lip teasingly “Guess I’ll have to punish you for that.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he gently placed a loose strand of your wavy hair from over your sweaty temple to behind your ear “Was hoping you’d say that.”

Part Two

lhh Masterlist

A/N: missed writing for my favorite muse! and it's my first time writing subrry! hope i did him justice ❤️

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #subrry #sub!harry #harrys styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #lhh #long hair harry #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x yn #fkinavocado

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charcoallbaby · 10 months ago

Text

the chase

smutty asf. 18+

wrote this last night while i was half asleep enjoy!

matt sturniolo was the biggest slut ever. if he wasn’t too busy with college work or being the hockey teams captain, a girl was definitely getting dicked down by him.

i was a sophomore, he was a junior so we never crossed paths until my best friend started to date one of his brothers nick. my best friend, sam was head over heelings for nick, it was annoying to be around but i was happy for him, he seemed to be really happy.

his brother matt sturniolo could never get his eyes off me when i was around him, it made me pissed off. i knew what his thoughts were, even if he was a cool guy, which he is. he’s nice and pretty and would never dare try to do something with me since sam and nick warned him that im off limits. but i think matt liked the chase, he liked the fact that he couldn’t have me. so all he did was eye fuck me across the room with a solo cup in his hand talking to some blonde who was practically begging for him. he could smile and girls would be throwing themselves at him.

i sighed before making my way over to sam and nick. “can we go?” “im getting tired,” i exhaled. “girllllll, come on!!!!” “the party is just getting started!” sam cheered. i rolled my eyes at him. nick touched my arm, “matt’s going home soon, he has a project to work on, i’m sure he’ll have no problem dropping you off.” “yeah-um sure, i’ll ask him.”

my eyes darted over to where matt was. no where to be found.

3 months later.

“it’s so fucking hot god!” i groaned. “don’t worry y/n, it’s because im here.” matt joked. i angrily rolled my eyes. “matt, what?” nick cringed. “it’s too hot in this car and i’m gonna die if we don’t get there soon.” i whined. “stop whining and be happy!” sam patted my head like a dog. “wait is there a pool or hot tub there?” chris asked nick. “hot tub chris, it’s a cabin in the middle of the woods!” “but we can just get the hot tub in while it’s cold.”

the second matt parked the car in the garage, i grabbed my bag, hopped out and ran towards the door inside. i needed to get into minimal clothing, i was wearing sweats for some reason.

“here she is!” “here she is!” sam sang out. a smile formed onto my face.

i wore a baby blue bikini set. it made my girls look amazing which rarely happens while having a heavy chest, bikini cup sizes always do me dirty.

i pulled myself up onto one of the kitchen island stools. “care to make me one?” i asked matt who was on the opposite side of the island cutting himself limes to put into his bottles of corona. “yeah sure,” he flashed me a small smile. he could be really sweet sometimes, it didn’t suit his slutty alter ego that he had. he had no shirt on. he looked really fucking good. small beads of sweat were around his neck, i wish i could lick them off. what. no. y/n stop. my eyes shifted down to his tattoos covering his right arm, it made him more attractive if that was even possible. i shook myself out of the heart-eyeing gaze i was in and turn my stool around to sam, chris and nick playing mario kart.

something cold touched my back making me jerk away from it and turn around. “here.” matt nodded his head. “thanks,” i took the bottle off him, our hands quickly touching. he had nice hands. matt made his way over to the boys in the open-planned living room joining them on the couch. “i’m just gonna go tanning!” i called out to the boys. “okay!”

i placed my headphones into my ears, pressing shuffle onto my playlist. the first song playing was “we are the people.” by empire of the sun.

i opened my eyes, something was blocking the sun. all the 4 boys standing in front of me. i ripped my headphones out of my ears. “excuse me?” i pull my sunglasses down from my head to cover my eyes. “we’re going to the store do you need anything?” sam asked. “oh-em,” “get me more tanning oil i’m out,” i propped myself up with my elbows. “girl, we meant food,” nick sighed. “oh, im good.” i smiled before laying back down. “can i have the keys?” sam asked. “oh yeah here,” i hear matt’s keys jingle. “wait,” i sat up. “who’s going?” i asked. “just me, nick and chris why?” sam pushing his hair out of his eyes. “oh no, just wondering.”

great. i’m gonna be here alone with matt.

the boys walked back inside. i picked my headphones up to put them back in my ear until i hear the door re-open. “thought i’d join you,” matt’s voice became louder.

i mentally groaned. i moved my head to my left and looked at him. “i’m not going to be doing a lot of talking, i’m tanning as you can see you,” i looked back up at the sky. a husky chuckle left matt’s mouth. “i was gonna turn on the hot tub and make the water cold for us,” i sat up for the 3rd time in the space of 2 minutes and looked at him. “nice glasses.” he teased. “thanks.” i gave him a fake smile.

i couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not they were the iconic simple black raybans.

i walked over to the hot tub, taking off the covering. “do your job.” i crossed my arms. matt laughed. “such a pretty attitude.” he walked past me and turn the hot tub on. i rolled my eyes and looked out at the view infront of us while matt did his job.

“should be good to get in.” matt picked up his bottle of beer, taking a gulp. “alright.” i dipped my foot in.

“ohhhhhhh fuck,” i moaned putting my head back in pleasure. the cold water hitting my skin felt so good against my boiling body. matt followed in after me. “so,” i clicked my tongue. matt looked at me while licking his teeth. his teeth and lips were so perfect fuck. “what’s your body count so far?” i crossed my arms. he shot me a glare.“i’m not as bad as you think i am y/n, i just like to feel good,” he put a wet hand through his dry hair. “yeah sure matt, does that mean by being inside every girl that you make eye contact with?” i tilted my head and smirked. “i’d bet you’d love it.” he raised his eyebrows and shot me a smile. “yeah, no thank you.”

i layed down on the couch in my bikini scrolling through different social media’s on my phone.

matt drained me in the hot tub. all he did was try to flirt with me and try to get me to accept to let him fuck me, so i left. it was way cooler inside from the blaring AC.

“we’re backkkkk!” nick sang while walking upstairs from the garage. i put my phone down and sat up. “did you get bottled water?” “i’m dying,” i followed nick into the kitchen. “yeah, sam and chris are bringing the groceries up now, i didn’t want to carry anything!” he chimed. i let out a small laugh before nick asked, “where’s matt?” “he’s in the hot tub,” i looked outside at him. “oooooo, i wanna get in the hot tub, “please tell me he’s not a psychopath and it’s cold?” “it’s freezing don’t worry.”

it was around 9pm. everyone was tired from the sun. all of us were in the living room, me laying on the cold floor, nick and sam sharing a arm chair, chris and matt both sprawled out on the big couch. my arm draped over my eyes while we talked while chris’ playlist while lowly playing on the tv.

“we’re off!” nick yawned. i pulled myself to sit up. “don’t go to bed too late y/n!” sam called out.

“i won’t thanks mom!” i called back.

after awhile of chris yapping to me and matt, i decided to head upstairs and going to bed.

it was 4am, i went to use my bathroom until i noticed there was no toilet paper. i groaned and made my way to my bed to grab a t-shirt to put on.

i threw on a baggy t-shirt before opening my door and making my to the bathroom. i rubbed my eyes and pushed open the half-closed door infront of me.

"fuckkkkk,” i heard a deep groan. i rubbed my eyes again. matt standing in the shower touching himself. he didn’t notice me. i quickly turned around before i heard him moan my name. no. no. no. i needed to leave. i quietly shut the door and ran back to my room.

i anxiously sat on the side of my bed biting my acrylic nails. that fucker was thinking of me while jerking off. i sighed before waiting until i could hear matt’s footsteps.

i walked out of my room to matt with a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair and water droplets all over his body. i gulped. “showering at 4am?” i questioned. “i like night showers y/n,” he stopped. “oh yeah, i bet you do matt,” i jokingly winked. “wha-” i cut him off. “it’s okay matt, you get off to me,” i crossed my arms. “n-no, no i don’t how would you know?” his face was covered with confusion. “i have ears, anyway im going to use the bathroom,” i walked past him. he quickly grabbed my arm. “no, no,” “y/n tell me what you heard?” he quirked his eye brows up. “matt i’m going piss myself.” “i’ll see you in the morning then.”

i made way back into my room. i jumped seeing matt sitting on my bed with shorts on. his phone screen lighting up his face. “what the fuck are you doing in my room matt!” i whisper-yelled.

he smirked. “i think we should recreate what you suppose heard in the shower,” i rolled my eyes. “matt,” i sighed. “go please, i’m tired and i don’t want to fuck you sorry if that bruises your massive ego, but your probably a walking form of chlamydia,” i made my way to the opposite of my bed.

he turned and looked at me. “come on baby, i’m clean i get tested im not stupid,” he layed down on my bed, resting his hands behind his head. i layed down beside him. “i’m going asleep matthew,” i placed my head down onto the pillow behind me. “mhm,” he mumbled. he leaned down to me his lips hovering over mine, they looked so kissable. “you don’t know how bad i want to fuck you, you make it so hard when all i want to do is bury myself inbetween those thighs y/n,” he groaned. i clenched my thighs together which made his eyes shift down. a smirk now planted onto his face. “i bet your panties are soaked, can i check?” his fingers trailed down my under my shirt. i nodded my head. god what am i doing. 2 minutes ago i didn’t want him anywhere near me, now i want him everywhere.

he pulled my underwear down slowly making me impatient. i groaned and leaned my forehead against his bicep.

matt slid his fingers down my soaking pussy that was begging for his touch. “oh my fuck, “your soaking,” he groaned before slipping two fingers into me. a low moan left my mouth. “look at me,” he spoke. i quickly pulled my head up and looked at him. he picked the pace up hitting my g-spot making me moan loudly. “there it is,” matt whispered. all he did was hit my g-spot making me on the verge of my orgasm. “come on sweetheart, finish on my fingers.” his thumb met my clit making my orgasm come quicker. i clenched around his fingers and shivered while coming down from my high.

matt’s fingers were in his mouth tasting me. “you taste so sweet,” his lips finally meeting mine. i hungrily kissed him, i didn’t know i had this much energy from just coming down from my high. his right hand met my waist slowly pulling my shirt up. “take it off,” he mumbled. i quickly took my shirt off before placing my lips back onto his. his hands met my nipples. he pulled his lips away from me before placing his warm mouth onto my nipple slowing sucking it. “matt,” i moaned eyes rolling back from the pleasure. he pulled away from me. “that’s all i wanted to hear from the moment, i met you.” he grunted. “fuck me, please.” “as you wish.”

he was massive. i didn’t know if he would be able to fit inside of me.

he lined himself up with my entrance. “ready?” his chain hanging over me. i nodded my head. his head slowly entered me before pushing his whole self into me. “ohhhhh,” i let slip out. “you ready baby?” he asked again before kissing me. “mhm.” i mumbled.

matt was pounding into me roughly and i wouldn’t want it any other way. god he felt so good inside of me. i have been missing out.

he slowly pulled out of me finishing all over my stomach. his load tripping down my hips. i quickly picked it up with my fingers and placing my fingers into my mouth. the salty-sweet taste entering my mouth. “i think you were made for me y/n, you feel way too good.” matt mumbled into my neck.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #smut #pov #imagine

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