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secretsandwriting · 8 months ago

Note

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that.

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama.

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you.

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were.

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death.

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow.

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone.

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders.

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back.

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger.

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections.

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there.

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating.

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.”

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would.

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself.

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once.

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited.

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting.

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!”

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores.

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving.

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird.

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was.

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind.

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning.

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it.

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped.

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last.

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe.

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you.

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to.

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough.

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence.

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear.

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that.

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky.

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you.

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.”

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were.

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it.

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable.

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left.

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had.

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother.

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too.

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her.

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size.

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much.

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

#dc #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #fem reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #batfamily x reader #batmom reader #batmom #request #cipheress-to-k-pop

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januaryembrs · 5 months ago

Text

I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck.

“Only if they have evidence,” Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins.

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth.

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark.

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss.

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won.

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long.

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another.

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him.

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another.

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section.

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing.

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer.

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle.

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so.

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab.

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face.

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore.

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on.

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her.

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?”

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,”

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer.

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love.

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch.

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen.

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years.

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks.

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted.

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer.

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried.

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless.

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear.

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set.

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now.

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office.

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so.

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him.

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently.

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness.

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?”

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances.

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance.

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so.

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself.

“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms.

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it.

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking.

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried.

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this.

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?”

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other.

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children.

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material.

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do.

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him.

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on.

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke.

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to.

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered.

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had.

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out.

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom.

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit.

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?”

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy.

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time, Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer.

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it.

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough.

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself.

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze.

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall.

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding.

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?”

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things.

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!”

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car.

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that.

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head.

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights.

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror.

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual.

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing.

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-” Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,”

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really.

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become.

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,”

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more.

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman.

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep.

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died.

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen.

Because it was their room now. Not just his.

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work.

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?”

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light.

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror.

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth.

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that.

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations.

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life.

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap.

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression.

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant.

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that.

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,”

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands.

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it.

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin.

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room.

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more.

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step.

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer.

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date.

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them.

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after.

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime.

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus.

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry.

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat.

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more.

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,”

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet.

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,”

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?”

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly.

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details.

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations.

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely.

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,”

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head.

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend.

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over.

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego.

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her.

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh.

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?”

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker.

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course! I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,”

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?”

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together.

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams?

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay.

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree.

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked.

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be.

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork.

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz.

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,”

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?”

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,”

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact.

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

“What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase.

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic.

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,”

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care.

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day.

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,”

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed.

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her.

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off.

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving.

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light.

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes.

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it.

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created.

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her.

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking.

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk.

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious.

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless.

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate.

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman.

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-”

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field.

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye.

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman.

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!”

“Shhh!”

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,”

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down.

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly.

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast.

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-”

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,”

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again.

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze.

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home.

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden.

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,”

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,”

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,”

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul.

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast.

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate.

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair.

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,”

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was.

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,”

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp.

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,”

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step.

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders.

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd.

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it.

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public.

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster.

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met.

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you.

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..”

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now.

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,”

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!”

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her.

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,”

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.”

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly.

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her.

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her.

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub.

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of.

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy.

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently.

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line.

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid.

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her.

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay.

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?”

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,”

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,”

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders.

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword.

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first.

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face.

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse.

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip.

It was going to be a long night.

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice.

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery.

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it.

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him.

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,”

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same.

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew.

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly.

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,”

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile.

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?”

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had.

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast.

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend.

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer.

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least.

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor.

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be.

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain.

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers.

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him.

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle.

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending.

@release-your-sweets s @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal l @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew grey gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader

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pomefioredove · 8 months ago

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Ngl I want a sequel to bad ending 'yuu gets sold' series

Cause imagine the boys go to NBC just to find out that yuu is actuality doing great, better than great, even better than the time they were doing in NRC

I like to think that Rollo is legitimate a nice person when you remove the hatred over magic type of stuff

He deffo makes sure that yuu is well fed and clean (let's be honest, not something that yuu always has in NRC) plus treat yuu greatly

rollo fans who are starving since everyone stopped talking about him after november I'm here for you. I see you. take my hand

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending

summary: yuu transfers to NBC type of post: fic characters: rollo my beloved additional info: yuu is gender neutral, implied romantic ^_^

It had been a long six months for everyone at Night Raven College.

The departure- and subsequent absence- of their beloved Ramshackle prefect was very much felt.

Days were longer, nights were darker, the first year class itself felt empty.

"At least they're not dead," was the consensus.

Of course, you continued to communicate with your friends- it wasn't like you completely dropped off the map, although Noble Bell College had a stricter policy about phone usage.

You even sent some letters back and forth, yours filled with updates and mementos, theirs with pictures of all you'd left behind.

Did you miss NRC?

Well...

You missed your friends.

But Crowley? The overblots? Being everyone's personal therapist?

...Yeah. You could live without that.

Noble Bell College may have been more exclusive, and more strict in their code of conduct, but it was more peaceful, too. Smaller, less students, and much less reliance on magic, so that you and Grim could be whole students independent of one another.

The curriculum was much different than NRC's. Less of an emphasis on a personal connection to magic, and more on tradition, ritual, and history. There were few times when you'd have to sit out a class, or watch your friends have fun from the sidelines.

If anything, Rollo made a point of including you.

A part of it may have been personal pride- after all, he just couldn't resist showing you how much better he is.

But he also had a vague idea about how stressful your life at NRC really was, and how isolated you felt, despite being surrounded by people. It was his duty, in a sense, to rectify that.

Even if it meant you had to sit through his lectures and recitations of the traditional magic laws.

...Though, even with his intense adherence to tradition and structure, he made quite a show of being kind to you.

Despite his best efforts to claim fairness and righteousness, it was no secret to anyone that he favored you. You quickly became the only person he spent his free time with (not that he was particularly social in the first place...)

And... it was nice. Is nice.

He holds himself to high standards, and expects that of others; he's cold, harsh when he feels it necessary, and repressed in all ways imaginable.

And yet... well, there's no sabotage, no swindling, no scamming, no manipulation to make petty ends meet.

Rollo, as a person, is both confusingly complex and reassuringly simple. You know as much. He sticks to routine, to rules, to tradition. He's diligent in every sense of the word, and highly respected because of it.

And when the eyes of the other students are turned away, he treats you with a sort of gentleness that you'd become wholly unfamiliar with at NRC. Like a porcelain doll, like something precious he desires to wrap in cotton and silk and store somewhere safe.

You wonder if his behavior towards you is at all connected to the very reason he risked his status bringing you here in the first place... but you don't dwell too long. He's as mysterious as anything.

When your former classmates come to visit over break, it's like they're meeting an entirely different person.

"Happy to see us, eh? You're like, glowing," Ace smirks.

Deuce elbows him in the ribs for that comment. "What he meant is that you look great. I mean, really! You've been sleeping more?"

You nod. "Lots, yeah,"

"Weird, I woulda guessed they'd been working you to the bone. This place is all "no funny business", right?" Ace shakes his head.

You laugh, walking alongside your former fellow first years in the streets of Fleur City, the very ones you'd become so accustomed to in recent months.

"I've actually been doing well with my studies. I think I've finally decided what I want to do after graduation,"

"Oh, that's great!" Deuce says. A lengthy pause follows, much to your confusion- it's as if everyone has something they want to say, but won't be the first to say it.

Epel clears his throat. "You been 'doin alright?"

"Um... yeah. I have,"

"Cause... you know, if anyone was giving you trouble, we'd give 'em what for!"

You chuckle. "I'm fine, really. People here are pretty nice..."

Again, that same silence follows. Epel, Deuce, and Ace look between each other, as if daring the other to say the next thing.

This time, you take the initiative.

"Listen. If this is about Rollo, he's fine. I'm fine. He's been nothing but helpful,"

The tense silence breaks and Ace sighs, shaking his head. "You can't blame us for being worried,"

"I mean, this whole situation has been really shady. Everyone at NRC has been worried sick..." Deuce says. "We just wanted to make sure..."

You smile. "I appreciate it, but you really don't have to send in a rescue party. I've been... I've been really good. Happy. And I miss you guys to pieces, but I've felt closer to home here than anywhere else. Does that sound strange?"

A short pause follows. Deuce is the first to speak, his voice sounding strained. "Not at all. We just want you to be happy,"

You can tell he's trying really hard to sound positive. Epel, on the other hand, doesn't sugarcoat anything.

"You really won't come back with us?"

You smile again, though this one is wholly apologetic. "No, I don't think so,"

The three are quiet for another moment, and then seem to drop the subject. The rest of their stay goes by smoothly, even with all the strained moments where you can tell they have something to ask. You assume they've already figured out the answer.

The day trip is over by sundown and you return to campus just before curfew, taking a seat in one of the cozy (though currently empty) lounges by a familiar face.

"They're gone?" Rollo asks, not bothering to look up from the textbook he's perusing.

You watch him carefully, and think it's best not to mention you friend's attempt to bring you back with them.

"Yes, they're gone. We had fun, nothing happened,"

"Good," he says. A brief silence follows before he speaks again. "I do trust you. But-"

"You don't trust them. I understand. If I were you, I suppose I wouldn't, either. But I'm fine,"

"When are they coming back?"

"Two months. They're taking the weekend. Might bring some other people,"

Rollo hums a note of acknowledgment, fingers rolling around the pen in his right hand. The book is still open, though he's looking ahead now. His face is flushed.

You know he's unhappy with it, but he won't say anything. You're grateful he likes you enough to let you rub elbows with people he despises. Especially after all that's happened...

He stands, closing the book. "Very well. Let me know what day so that I may adequately prepare myself. Good night. Be safe,"

And with that, he takes his leave.

Ever distant. Ever polite. One might mistake the way he speaks for coldness or resentment if you weren't so familiar with his mannerisms by now.

You turn to look into the lounge fireplace behind you, watching the flames flicker and die until all that remains are soft, glowing embers, the same shade of red that burns on his cheeks when you look at him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo fans come here. come here. I'll save you

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seat-safety-switch · 9 months ago

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Have you been to a teppanyaki restaurant lately? It's a fancy Japanese word that means, essentially, "fried on a metal plate." You go in there, you pay your money, and some dude does a bunch of corny jokes while frying your food right in front of you. Whole thing is a lot of fun, and you leave smelling like a barbecue just happened in your lap.

This sort of interaction between worker and customer is missing from many of our Western businesses. Things are just not fun. Nobody at McDonalds will flip a shrimp into her hat while cracking a joke about the stock market. When you get your car fixed, the team of mechanics doesn't build a flaming PB Blaster volcano to loosen the busted lower ball joint for your entertainment. And when you get someone to do your taxes, the lady they have working there takes one look at your box full of greasy parts-store receipts and just cries a whole lot, over and over, until the manager comes out and asks you to leave.

I figured it was time to change things up. Rather than ask already-overworked and heavily-underpaid workers to add an additional piece of unnecessary and annoying customer interaction to their plate, I wisely decided it would be best to ease everyone into it. Luckily for me, my general geographic area contains a very popular clown college. Thanks to recent maybe-errors in immigration policy, this school has over three thousand students at the moment, all learning the ins and outs of clownery and begging for a job, any job. And – unlike actual comedians – they don't get all froggy if you throw two dozen of them into a car and go driving around town, dropping them off at every business who won't pay our very reasonable "dismissal fee."

Friends, I'll be the first to admit that I fucked this one up, big time. I had absolutely no idea that clown makeup was flammable, or that their extensive bozo education did not include knowledge on safe food prep. That's just what happened at the A&W, which would have been bad enough if not for all the other stuff that happened. You've heard the rest of the defence from my team of attorneys, but I wanted you to hear it from me personally. If anyone has learned his lesson about employing clowns to blow up and then pop a balloon animal for laughs while standing next to the police bomb squad, it's me.

#best of

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cyanhydrangea · 27 days ago

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High School Sakusa Kiyoomi decided he will choose marriage in his future, and it's all because of you.

Of course he didn't plan it initially. He was content having you as one of his best friends, alongside his cousin Komori.

While romance rarely crossed high school Sakusa's mind, you on the other hand, daydream of the said topic almost on a daily basis.

"Can't wait for me and my future husband to sing this together!", you expressed your excitement after you added the newly discovered love song to your playlist.

"With your 'no-dating-policy'? I'd love to know how you'll manage to do that", Komori commented.

"Oh you'll find out, I assure you", you convinced the brunet.

"You really are one peculiar hopeless romantic", Komori remarked.

Sakusa thought he couldn't care less about your romance journey, until one day you practically ran to the him and Komori, holding what seems like a love letter.

"Someone is crushing on me! Oh my gosh!!", you squealed.

Komori was about to say something but Sakusa spoke first, "And what are you gonna do about it?"

You felt an icy tone in the masked boy's question, and his gaze was unusually frigid despite you being used to his death stares.

"I...don't know. If he confessed and asking me to be his girlfriend, I have no idea how to reject him without breaking his heart"

"Just get straight to the point, explain your 'no-dating-policy' ", Sakusa adviced.

"He might find it strange, though?", you asked for the curly haired boy opinion.

"And what are you if not a strange girl?" Sakusa answered as in a matter of fact.

Komori watched the two of you continue to bicker, and he smiled knowing something has shifted in his cousin's heart if he's suddenly gotten interested in your love life, whether Sakusa noticed it or not.

Sakusa was still confused why he was being anxious when the love-letter-sender-boy finally confessed to you at the school backyard on one particular day, he didn't realize he sighed out of relief when he heard your rejection.

You walked towards your best friends after the occasion.

"So, [Name], what do you think of marrying my grumpy cousin here?", Komori dropped the question that got yours and Sakusa's eyes widened.

"Very funny, Komori", you tried to avoid the question.

"Answer it", Sakusa sounded like he's commanding you.

"Eh?", your eyes widened once more, with the addition of your reddening cheeks.

The silence Sakusa gave you indicates how he's waiting for your answer, making your heart beating faster each second.

"I think...I don't hate the thought of it...", you answered honestly, avoiding Sakusa's gaze on your blushing face.

That day, Sakusa Kiyoomi realized he hate the thought of someone else taking you away, and if you don't mind spending the rest of your life with him, he'll make sure to take your hand in marriage in the future.

#CyanHydrangea

Date Written: 28/11/2024

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mesetacadre · 6 months ago

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One mistake that is very common for communists to make (both online and offline, though it's more annoying online) when talking about and participating in trade unions is forgetting both your and the union's place in class struggle.

A trade union is by its very nature a reformist entity that fights partial struggles at best and reinforces the state's management of capitalism at worst. The purpose of any trade union is to represent a group of workers at the a company or sector at the same level of the capitalists who run it to achieve better conditions for the workforce. Two crucial aspects of this are (1) that it simply puts the workers at the same level of capitalists to negotiate, it does not question the very role of the capitalist in the wider economy, and (2) its ultimate goal is always to reform the contract that defines the relationship between the worker and the capitalist, not to remove it altogether. It does not matter the amount or length of strikes the union might organize, or how much they embolden workers to act in their (supposed) interest. Every fight organized by a union is, by definition, reformist. The only situations in which unions seize to have this character are in either a dictatorship of the proletariat, and like any other element of the superstructure it's put to work in the interests of the working class, or a situation with a strong communist party pre-revolution that has been able to influence the union in such a way that it becomes internally aligned with the interests of the vanguard.

Does this mean that unions are worthless and that we should ignore them because they don't immediately acquire rifles and take over human resources? No. What we should do is avoid creating false illusions or misplacing importance on these fights

An organized (that is, in a communist party) communist's role is to elevate the working masses to a revolutionary conscience, so that the party can have the sufficient amount of people, and organizational capability, to exploit the crises of capitalism to their favor. And this never changes, no matter the context of your intervention. When you go to a protest, you are a communist in that protest, not just another protestor. When you do work in a union, you are a communist in a union, not a unionist. This means that your work and your interactions with other workers should always be done as a communist. You may be an active member of a union, in fact that's the main way for organized communists to act in a workplace, if their party does not have the sufficient strength to act on its own. But you're a communist first, a communist who understands the utility of unions to create the seed of revolutionary-political conscience in workers.

And a misunderstanding of any of these two concepts usually manifests in what I see some communists do, which is taking the reformist slogans of trade unions ("fight for a just wage", "united we bargain", or just an oversimplified "join a union!", for example) and parroting them without much apparent thought. Trade unionism and socialdemocracy go hand in hand, these two currents hinge on the idea of promising workers a bigger slice of the national wealth. But the difference between these two, and part of the reason why many more communists are less critical towards unions I think, is that unions take the position of workers, the "underdog", while socialdemocracy deals directly with putting reforms in place. But ultimately they both misdirect the spontaneous conscience workers acquire by the everyday class antagonism towards policies that reinforce capitalism and the system of wage labor through which workers are exploited in the first place.

#seriousposting #ik this isn't really a rant like i said but i want to get my exact position across

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pennyserenade · 5 months ago

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devil in his heart | jackson rippner x reader

summary | after finding out your long-time boyfriend's real occupation, you have to grapple with who he really is. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | 18+, dark, dubcon (bordering on noncon), smut, explicit smut, fingering, degradation, violence word count | 1.9k+ a/n | i honest to god don't know what possessed me, but we are all grown ups here. read with caution! enjoy! love ya! also: i wrote this to devil in his heart by the donays and he's got the power by the exciters, if you're interested in a soundtrack. not beta'd

Truth be told, this is the best game of cat and mouse he's had in years, and he doesn't like that it's ending so soon.

As he gets on your level, crouching near your slumped form, Jackson almost feels a little sorry that you couldn't win. It's not that you weren't witty enough--you were. It's just that, well, he's better. This reminds him of when he was ten and had wanted to go to space only to figure out when he was twelve that he was too scared of the vastness of the galaxy. Some things are just out of reach, too good to be true. He mourns it all the same.

His fingers tenderly push back sweat soaked strands of hair from your face. You look up at him, blurry-eyed, but still so resolute--lips thinned, smoldering with anger. God. He swipes a finger across your lip just to know what it feels like, and likes it better for the fact that you jerk away so aggressively that you knock your head back into the wall.

His tongue clicks. "You should've known, after following me all those weeks, that I'm good at this."

Jackson wraps his fingers tightly around your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You give in, mostly because you have so little energy to protest. His eyes look ominously glacial, lit up only by the moonlight cascading in from the window.

You look down at his lips; the flesh there is still swollen, broken from the harsh swing of your elbow earlier in the night. His tongue spears out to feel at the area. "You're a sloppy assassin, baby. My blood's all over this goddamn place. All over you--" he gestures down to your simple white tee shirt, which has been made dirty with dirt, sweat, blood. You don't care. You feel dizzy and half-scared to pass out, to even think of it, because you've never seen him look quite like this.

You think back to that first time you met him, how he had seemed so polite. He was traveling by train to visit his folks back home for Christmas (he said things like 'folks' in a crisp Midwestern accent, for God's sake). He had said he worked in life insurance policy, which made you laugh and caused him to say, "I know, I know--ironic, Jack Rippner dealing out life insurance." You had thought it was ironic. It is: ironically cruel.

He buys his ties from GAP, his dress shirts from Macy's, likes EggNog and celebrates the fourth of July with as much enthusiasm as any plain, good-hearted American man can.

He’s met your mother; he loves her breadsticks.

You spit on him. It takes the very last of your strength, but it's worth it to see the way his eyes ignite. His hand wipes it off, thumb running through the saliva on his fingers as his lips purse. "You know," he begins, voice eerily calm, "I always thought we'd make good parents. God knows we've come close to it enough times. You just can't help but beg for my cum in you, the slut you are." He chuckles darkly. "I always imagined that you'd be the good cop and I'd be the bad one."

Jackson pushes your head back into the wall, propping you there, almost choking you, but not quite. You let out a deep, wavering breath. He smirks. "But I see that's not the case now, is it? You don't seem to like very much when I play with my food before I eat it, do you?" His fingers press against your lips again, saliva coated. You let him. "Here I thought, all along, 'my baby's a goddamn pacifist. She didn't even like fishing!' It kept me up at night, the idea of you finding out what I did. But look at you!" His thumb tenderly strokes your neck, moving around a mysterious fluid--could be your blood, his blood, spit, water, anything. "I think if I reached between your legs now, you'd be soaked."

You choke out a sound of protest, wiggling beneath his gasp. He tuts, his fingers digging more tightly into your throat. For a brief moment, you can’t breathe. You find enough strength to claw at his hand, to widen your eyes and plead.

“C’mon, you’ll like this. You always do.” He loosens his grip on your neck.

As you gasp for air, Jackson knocks your legs apart. It doesn’t take much effort to get your cunt—you’d foolishly made the mistake of wearing a dress today—and he hums in delight when his fingers reach past your cotton underwear, confirming what he suspected to be true. His lips form into a mocking pout as your eyes begin to well with tears. It's not fear—you’re beyond that. It’s anger. The betrayal of this curdles inside you, eating you alive. Your eyes fill with ire.

“Don’t be that way,” he shakes his head, softening a degree. He holds your chin between his fingers again, the other hand rubbing wide circles over your clit. “I’m not going to kill you. How could I? I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you, truth be told, but it’s not that.”

Your hips jerk involuntarily, causing him to growl. “That’s the spirit, kitten. When you hit me earlier, I thought—after, of course, 'God she’s a bitch!’—that you might be a good asset. I know you’ve got a lot of morals holding you back right now, so I figure I’ll let you do the easy work at first. Let you think you’re doing some good in the world.” He presses down on your clit, his touch more intent, more focused. You squirm, hating the way he knows that you like it like this.

His fingers slip down into your cunt, wetting them. “Fuck, you’re soaking. If this is how you get when we do this, you might just reform me. I’m not opposed. We—“ he reattaches his fingers to your cunt. You whine, arching into his touch.“—could do good work. I freelance, if you couldn’t tell already. Though I’m sure you can. You’re a thorough investigator when you want to be. That’ll be helpful, too.”

Jackson picks up his pace, swallowing as he stares down at your lap. He can’t see anything, his hand hidden beneath the fabric of the dress and your underwear, but it seems to thrill him all the same. You too, admittedly.

“I—I couldn’t,” you retort, biting at your lip. “You—you kill!”

“Don’t be such a prude,” he deadpans. “It’s political assassinations and occasionally, though very rarely, an innocent bystander. And I do my best to make sure those cases are few and far between. I do.” He presses down more intently, watching with delight as you squirm, trying not to cum. “Oh, go on. It’s just you and me here. No one’s gonna know except me, and I won’t tell anyone. I’m good with secrets. You know that now.”

He’s near exultant, talking to you about this. The pitch of his voice is higher, and he’s looking at you like he’s won a prize of the highest degree. You’d spit on him again if he wasn’t making you feel so goddamn good.

“I won’t do it,” you shake your head firmly. Jackson takes the opportunity to slip a finger in your cunt, to press in and show you how much he has always—will always—know you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll bite,” he soothes, entering another. It’s a squeeze, but a welcome one, especially when he begins to thrust them against the spongy surface of your walls. Your toes curl, and you hate him, hate him violently. “If you want me to be rough, you really only have to ask, but since you like this game so much we’ll play it.”

As he fingers you, he begins to palm your clit. The sensation is overwhelming. Tears cascade down your face and he leans forward, licking them from your lips. The warmth of the orgasm rises in you alarmingly quick, his fingers deftly touching the inside of you, his palm lining with your clit each time you rut involuntarily. Your body knows him. It trusts him. He knows it.

The orgasm licks through you like a goddamn flame, igniting everything and leaving it all worse for it. When you cry out, Jackson smirks, so fucking pleased. But he doesn’t stop. He goes on, rubbing down harder, thrusting in quicker, until you’re wiggling beneath him.

“Please!” you say, trying to move his hand away.

He’s resolute. “No can do, honey. You’ve been a naughty girl, indulgent in the worst way. Gluttony is a sin, and I've been good–I’ve never punished you for it before–but you’ve hurt my feelings now.”

He slides in a third finger, his crystal eyes dark in the shadows. You feel impossibly full, and on the brink of another orgasm. You whine out. He knocks your head back into the wall with force. It doesn’t take your breath away, but it stuns you to silence. “That’ll be enough of that. This is for me now, got it? Getting you all wet so my cock will fit in that tight cunt of yours. Want you to hear it, your pussy taking me.”

As if to prove a point, he thrusts in again, and you do hear it—the way your body allows him in. An obscene squelch. You bite your lip, feel more tears fall down your cheeks.

“Jackson—“ you plead. You’re tired, achy, terribly confused. He works you open so well. You can smell the sour sweet smell of his body odor. You love it. You cannot help it. Your body trusted this man for so long. Still does.

You fool, you tell yourself, before your body gives way to his will again—you collapse into him, screaming out a silent whimper as the orgasm makes you convulse.

“That’s it,” he encourages, not stopping. “Be good for me. If you’re good, we’ll make this enterprise into a family business. If you’re bad—well, we’ll just have to make this our life, won’t we? You all weak, me with all the power. I don’t think you’ll like it, but you understand, it’s how it must be done if you don’t obey.”

He sighs, as if it’s putting him out too.

You know he’s serious. What’s worse is you know he’s right: that you won’t like it, that he’ll get his way eventually.

When you give in, he knows immediately, lips quirking up into a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your temple. “I always knew you had it in you a little. You were always such a whore for me. I’m happy it worked out so well for us both. Now–” He pushes your legs further apart, moving in with his own hips. “Let’s play your most favorite game. It’s longer, requires more patience, but I like it just as much as you do.”

The jingle of his belt buckle makes a shot of fear, mixed with arousal, shoot up your spine. You think: God, no.

He laughs darkly. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve been making sure you’ve been taking your birth control. I’m not really ready for that, either. It’s just the idea that thrills you, isn’t it anyway? And that smallest, tiniest chance that it could happen.” He smirks, loosening his belt. His fingers exit you, leaving you empty, feeling scandalized and ruined. Jackson rubs them on the cloth of your dress, uncaring.

“I hate you,” you spit out, venom lacing your words.

He looks thoroughly amused as he releases his weeping cock from his underwear. “No you don’t. You’re just ashamed of yourself. But fear not–” he wipes a tear off your face, “--when we’re done here, you’ll be glad for this. Just remember, baby, that I’m on your side.”

#jackson rippner x you #jackson rippner #jackson rippner x reader #jackson ripnner smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfic #red eye #red eye fanfic #dark smut #smut

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amazinglyspicy · 2 years ago

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PIRATE SAFELY!! But pirate ;)

Hello! I’ve gotten a flood of new followers thanks to an addition I made about NOT torrenting from the Pirate Bay, so I want to address it better.

If you’ve come to check my blog for more piracy resources, advice, guides, etc, then check out some of the links in this pinned!

First and Foremost, Do not do Anything without an adblocker. Ublock Origin is the best.

Resources/Wikis: 🌟Top recommendation is the Free Media Heck Yeah Wiki, frequently updated, maintained, and transparent, as well as has a welcoming community behind it if you have questions. The rest are for redundancy's sake and for anything not found in FMHY, though most Wikis on this topic tend to repeat the same info. 🌟

VPN Comparison Chart - General Rule of Thumb, DO NOT use any VPN recommended by Youtubers, influencers, or any other shill with a profit motive. Large marketing budget does not equal good privacy practices. Do your own research.

-Since both Mullvad VPN and IVPN are planned to now suspend port forwarding support, the next best choices for torrenting though a VPN seem to be AirVPN and ProtonVPN.

HOWEVER, AirVPN has no evidence of a no logging policy (aka there’s a chance they keep records of what you do on their service) and ProtonVPN has no method of anonymously signing up and use a subscription model instead of a preferable pay-as-you-go model. So take that as you will.

(NOTE: You do not need to pay for a VPN if you are only directly downloading from a server or streaming off of websites! But it’s probably a good idea for privacy reasons anyways.)

A very good Comprehensive Torrenting Guide! -eye strain warning

And another one!

-If you torrent you need a VPN depending on how strict your government is on copyright laws. This works on a case by case basis, so I recommend looking up your own country's laws on the matter. Generally speaking, use a VPN to torrent if your country falls under The 14 Eyes Surveillance Alliance. More info on what that is Here.

A Note about Antivirus: - If you're using trusted websites, and not clicking on any ad links/fake download ads (Should be blocked by ublock), then you don't necessarily need any antivirus. Common Sense and Windows Defender should be enough to get you by. If you would like to be certain on what you are downloading is legitimate, then run your file through a virus scanner like VirusTotal. Keep in mind that when scanning cracked software some scans may flag “false positives” as the injectors used to crack the software look like malware to these scanners. Once again, the best way to avoid malware is to use trusted sites listed here and use an adblocker at all times.

If you have any questions on anything posted, need help finding things, or just need some clarification on any terms used, shoot me an ask or message! I've got a few years experience with not paying for anything I want, and LOVE to help others with this kind of stuff. But if you don't trust me, since I am a random stranger on the internet, that's fine (I wont be offended promise)! Do your own research!

INFORMATION SHOULD BE FREE!

Last updated: February 16th 2024

#piracy #torrenting #vpn #pirating #media preservation #warez

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eddiegettingshot · 10 days ago

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now im curious, as someone who ships them what are things you think they'd need to overcome?

so i don't have anything that i think for sure they'll have to deal with because i simply do not know what is happening. but i can think of some potential stories + facets of Them that could be the underlying cause of strife in their dynamic. this is so long sorry in advance

classic workplace relationship stuff. like ok they practically have to do secret relationship hijinks which is Funny. however maybe they're keeping it a secret to avoid one of them having to transfer (as much as i love fujo bobby). alternatively maybe fujo bobby lets them stay together but after they get together their easy acceptance of the risks they take doesn't feel so easy anymore. i actually think it would be CRAZYYYY good if they turned the classic assumption on its head and it's BUCK who's anxious about things happening to eddie (given their history and the way buck has responded in the past this makes sense 2 me but whatever the specifics don't matter). omg maybe one of them passes on some kind of promotion or opportunity without talking about it because whatever bathena is made of buddie is the same idk. maybe their relationship just gets in the way of them doing their job somehow in ways i cannot currently envision.

obviouslyyyyy chris is something they'll have to think about. and parenting in general. theoretically chris could respond badly to them dating but that would be lame. i'm way more interested in seeing them try to navigate defining buck's role in chris's life and having inevitable problems rise out of that despite all three of them feeling positively about the change. buck has been a father figure for most of chris's life but he does not actually parent him. chris's abandonment issues are tied pretty specifically to shannon leaving him and his dad ... how do buck and eddie get through buck and CHRIS having actual issues for the first time possibly ever??? is buck even confident about taking on the actual parent role? is eddie actually ready for his family dynamic (which has been him and chris against the world for like, a decade) to change in a formal way? it's easy when they're best friends but that's because eddie doesn't see them as a real family unit, which comes with certain obligations and expectations. he's not thinking about those right now but he tends to struggle a lot and over-correct when he does have to take them into account and i don't think buck would know what to do with that, especially given his. ummm. insecurities.

kind of in the same vein but like they will have to think about the future. at some point. i get the sense that neither of them have thought about what they want (ACTUALLY want) their lives to look like in a concrete way beyond just "i am happy and loved and not dead and chris is happy" for a myriad of reasons. kind of in the same vein as above—do they want more kids? me personally i am enamored by the idea that. well eddie loves being a father. buck loves children but he has never thought of himself as a father or gotten close to being one. i would LOVEEEE to see him grapple with anxiety over this now that he's with someone he might actually have kids with. marriage? eddie has a lot of hangups around his being a bad husband. this is actually the thing he was worried about when shannon told him she was pregnant—he didn't know if he could be a good husband. is that something he's dealt with? buck knows eddie's baggage around this is complicated and he's also very aware of his own impulsive history. this show is basically fanfiction so i can see them wondering in turn if their relationship is going at the Correct Pace and hitting the Correct Milestones but not like. talking about it. careers? with the caveat that this is tv so they play fast and loose with policy. if they want to keep working together they may need to forego promotion. alternatively what if one of them gets a job offer elsewhere (that they obviously won't take because neither of them will ever leave LA) ... are they willing to make that move? etc. etc.

their families may have opinions. about their relationship. which hasn't been an issue thus far for either of them but well they are soulmates so the evil buckleys and evil diazes have the potential to cause problems in some way. (pretty much all the other couples have had in-law issues or non-issues at some point soooooo).

in general, both buck and eddie let their own wants take the backseat and are not particularly forthcoming communicators (although they're better about it with each other than they are in their actual relationships and i imagine they will continue to be way better about it). buck tends to be a passive people-pleasing partner, and eddie is far more decisive and willing to steer a relationship—it's just that he doesn't tend to operate off of his actual desires, just his fabricated internal compass. i think it would be interesting if they bumped up against each other in this way somehow because being together has caused a blind spot to develop where they used to be able to read and evaluate each other with a lot of clarity BUT because it's Them and they know each other they can actually work through it... whatever it is... and GROW. i just think that given that these tendencies are pretty much what led to the failure of all their other relationships it would be good to address them and show. that they are not only soulmates but working to build something that lasts.

#asks #WEOWWWWWWW THIS REALLY IS SO LONG #SORRY I RAMBLED SO MUCH!!!!!!! HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR.

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years ago

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this night together - chapter one (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter one: a safe place to land

summary: you're finally getting your dream job, working with some of the best dancers in the business, but a job change means a break in your healthcare coverage and suppressants these days are expensive. going into heat at the studio pretty much seems like the worst case scenario, but you find yourself in the care of two alphas who won't let you go through it alone. note: reader and the boys are not idols in this fic, but instead are part of the bb trippin dance crew. the idol group mentioned in the fic's name is 'new world' which was one of the early options for ateez's name, and i just thought that was cute. overall though, i know very little about dancing and choreography. i did my best to research what that field might be like, but please know there are likely inaccuracies. also.... i have no idea how healthcare coverage with jobs work in korea and my research wasn't too helpful. we're going with what i know which is often a ninety day waiting period before you get health coverage at a new job, which means reader here cannot afford her medication out of pocket. go with it, for me ♡

warnings: just.... so much smut including: heat, nesting, knotting, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, big dick yunho, implied breeding kink (it's omegaverse so ya know), gratuitous praise to make reader feel better, lots of pet names, lots of heat symptoms like cramps, slick, and insatiable horniness.

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, abo/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 13.6K

next chapter | AO3

The first sign is the headache, a low, dull throb at the back of your skull. It’s not a full-blown migraine yet, but it might become one and that’s your first indication that your heat is close. You’ve done your suppressant rationing and your bargaining and your plotting and planning, but in the end it’s going to come down to luck if you can make it through the recording.

You had asked the company about their heat leave policy in the most casual way that you could, still new enough to KQ that it seemed natural for an omega to be asking. You don’t know why you were surprised, but as always the policy is disappointing. Full health coverage only after ninety days of employment, and until then not only are your suppressants not covered any heat leave is fully unpaid.

You had studied your cycle calendar in detail and tried to map out the dates, but no matter how you drew it or cut up the last of your suppressants to try and extend the effects, your heat was going to fall on or around your first real performance. And it’s not like you’re an idol, it’s not like the camera will be focused on you, but the idea of letting your new crew down two months into being here is too fucked a thought to entertain.

Your throat feels dry after the first run through of the routine, unnaturally so, a tight cough building in the back of your throat as you try to hold it together. The minute the music fades you’re falling out of formation before anyone else and covering your mouth with your elbow, coughing dryly into your sleeve.

“You good?” San asks from his place next to you.

“Mhm,” You nod tightly, but the cough is lodged in your throat, “I just need to,”

A bottle of water is pushed into your hand and you nod in thanks, unscrewing the cap fast and knocking it back, letting the cold water soothe your throat.

“Are you sick, y/n?” San crosses his arms to appraise you better, ducking his head and getting a good look at you.

“No, no,” You take a deep breath now that you can and shake your head, “just dry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slow us down.”

“Let’s take five,” Yunho announces from the front.

You take another sip of water and the group starts to break apart. The cool bottle keeps you grounded and as far from anxiety as you can possibly get with the knowledge of this hanging over you.

“You good?” Yujin, one of the few other female BB Trippin dancers, asks, her chest heaving as she jogs up to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” You assure her, “I just need a minute,”

She squeezes your shoulder before moving past you, and you lean back against the wall nearby before taking a deep breath. Your eyes go unfocused towards the mirror as you collect yourself, drinking more water and hoping that no one’s upset with the delay. You’re still new here, but so far you’ve been accepted into the fold well, only a few of the dancers more aloof, so focused on the work you haven’t had a chance to try and make friends. You hope they aren’t upset at your sudden need for a break right on the first run through on the big day. You feel hot eyes on you, and you focus, catching Minseok in the mirror. He’s always pleasant and polite, but never overly friendly, and when you catch his gaze momentarily you see that his jaw is tight and his throat jumps like a spasm as he swallows and averts his eyes from yours.

Your brow knits in confusion, but Yunho appearing next to you breaks the brief moment of concentration and you turn towards him.

His eyes are soft, but his face is still serious and wired into work, “You sure you’re good?”

“Definitely,” You protest, “really,”

He chews the inside of his lip for a moment before adjusting the cap on his head and holding out a little bottle of pills, “Your head?”

“How did you know?” You thought you were good at concealing it.

“You keep wincing when I put the high lights on,” He nods up towards the fluorescents, “migraine?”

“A little one,” You assure him, you know he’s got to be worried about you dropping out of formation right before recording, “but I got this,”

As the lead choreographer and director of today’s stage performance, he’s been on edge this week. He’s so incredibly focused on the finer details down to every precise placement, finger extension, facial expression. You’ve been a dancer for a long time, and you’ve worked behind idol groups before, but not like this. The atmosphere here is different, and working with New World doesn’t feel like backup dancing at all. And for Yunho, it’s become clear to you over the past couple of months that while he isn’t the boss, he is the leader here and he takes that responsibility incredibly personally.

But despite all that pressure and responsibility, he surprises you when he smiles at your admission, “I get them sometimes. Do you get auras?”

You shake your head.

“I do,” He offers you the bottle again, “it sucks, but you know, the light sensitivity is always the worst thing,”

You take the bottle and tip the migraine medication out into your palm, “Yeah,”

“Are you sure you don’t need to tap out?” He offers, voice a little softer so that it’s a conversation just between you, “I know you don’t want to, but I can’t have you falling on stage,”

“No, honestly, I wouldn’t put the team in that position,” You look up, trying your best to convey with your eyes that you can make it, even though the low throb in your skull says otherwise.

“Okay,” He nods once, “I just had to ask. Are you ready?”

“Ready,”

“Alright,” He takes a step away and moves back towards the main part of the room. This time he doesn’t adjust the lights, he keeps the room low lit and calm and he claps as he turns back to the room at large, “Let’s run it again. We have an hour before the van gets here, and then from there it’s go time. We ready?”

A chorus of yes echoes back, and you lend your voice to the mix, shaking off the pounding in your brain. You can do this. You can. Wooyoung punches your arm softly as he walks by you to get to his starting position, flashing you a smile and an encouraging nod. With a deep exhale you let it go, and you get to work.

By the time you finish the third run through, your muscles are screaming, but you’ve managed to hold the rest tightly in. The migration medication seems to be helping, and though you can sense Yunho continuing to glance at you in the mirror he seems pleased that you’re keeping up. You just need to make it through this day, and then you can let it all fall apart.

With a glance at your watch, the hour now up, you realize just how much more time there is to get through. It’s only six in the morning, the earliest you’ve had to get up and be ready for this job yet. You’ve been told that if you’re ever a supporting dancer for a comeback stage it will be even earlier, two or three to accommodate pre-recording time. For this though, you’re not filming a comeback stage. You’ll get to the studios alongside New World at around seven-thirty, spend at least an hour or two getting ready in the green room, and then from there it will be a waiting game, and you don’t really know how a show like this will go. Music shows are a well oiled machine of time management, but this type of larger long program for their survival show stage is something you just aren’t used to.

You just have to, without question, make it back home, but that might be eight hours from now or twelve, and that level of uncertainty makes your stomach churn.

On the bus you take stock. Sore muscles, dry throat, ever so slight cramping in your back, bubbling migraine, fatigue. You’re not yet feeling the waves of hot flashing blush or deep, burgeoning cramps, but it’s not too far off. It feels like at the very least the quarter suppressant you choked down this morning might be doing just enough to mask the scent of your pre-heat, and that’s the best you can do. At least for now, no one’s noticed how close you are to the edge. No one, except possibly Wooyoung.

“Here,” He says from his seat next to you, offering you a lozenge from a bag, “for your throat,”

You stare for a second at the offering before your brain fires and you accept one with quiet thanks. Omegas often keep cooling lozenges around for their heat and pre-heat, something to take the edge off the soreness and dryness and it doesn’t surprise you that the only one attuned to your slight discomfort is another omega.

“You can keep the bag,” He places it on your lap, “if you need it,”

“I’m good,” You pass it back, not wanting to admit how close you really are, “like I said, just dry,”

“Okay,” He nods, and then he lets the subject lie, “are you ready for today?”

“Yeah,” You swallow tightly, “nervous, but yeah,”

“Mm,” He grins, relaxing back into his seat, “it’s fun, I promise,”

“Yeah?”

“When you see it all come together on the monitors,” He nods, “it just makes it all worth it,”

“All the work, you mean?” You can’t help but glance up the length of the bus, to where Yunho sits alongside San and Mingi, all talking quietly and seriously amongst themselves.

“Yeah,” He nods, “you’ve been working a lot of nights too, catching up,”

“I just don’t want me being new to be the reason it’s not perfect,” You reply with ease.

“That’s good,” Wooyoung says, “and I promise if you weren’t nailing it, you’d know by now.”

“Would I?”

“You wouldn’t be sitting here,” Wooyoung nods towards the front, “Mingi would have cut you ages ago,”

“Mingi?” He’s been nothing but nice, flirty, and funny. He’d been helping you out at night to get better, you thought so that Yunho and San didn’t have an inkling that you’re behind.

“His opinion is the one that matters,” Wooyoung laughs, whispering to you so the rest of the bus can’t hear, “have you not picked up on that yet?”

You shake your head slowly.

“y/n,” Wooyoung smiles as he realizes just how clueless you are, “Yunho would recommend we all stop drinking water if Mingi said it was a good idea. Mingi trusts his gut, and Yunho trusts Mingi,”

“Oh,” You breathe.

“Yep,”

“What about Jaemin?” You ask softly. You’ve only met the actual crew leader a few times here and there, but most of the time he’s not at the studio itself.

“He keeps the work coming and the doors open,” Wooyoung says, “but they keep us moving.”

You let his words sink in, the reality that for weeks you’ve been working side by side with Mingi and confessing all your fears of inadequacy, that he was the person who had to approve of you all along and you never knew it. You sigh, “Are you just trying to hype me up, or are you being serious?”

“I don’t lie.” He says, full stop, no room for misinterpretation.

The menthol lozenge burns a little on your tongue, but soothes the cut feeling in the back of your throat when you swallow and you find that finally for the first time all night you’re able to really exhale. With a soft nod you turn to him, “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Let’s fucking do this,”

He grins, “After this stage you’re officially one of us, you know,”

Your eyes narrow, “You said that after my first week,”

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, maybe I lie a little,”

For the afternoon, with the lightness of Wooyoung by your side, you forget about your headache. The day happens fast, even with all the sitting and waiting in green rooms. There’s so much to remember, from camera positions to where the light is coming from, to how to adapt to the stage floor being just a little smaller than what you were working with back at KQ. The members seem suddenly focused in a way you’ve never experienced, you know what this means to them. To all of you. By the time it’s filming, you’ve had at least six lozenges and taken two more painkillers for your migraine to keep it at bay, and you're starting to feel exhausted. You film it twice, from two angles. Wide for choreography and tighter close ups on the members for cinematic facial expressions and intricacies of movement.

When it’s all over and you pile back into the van, your legs feel heavy and disconnected. If you can just make it back to the studio, you can change and call an Uber and get inside before it knocks you sideways.

Someone suggests drinks, someone else suggests a celebratory meal.

You want nothing more than for the van to speed up.

You grip your hand tight and breathe through the tight sensations in your body and no one ever notices a thing, not even Wooyoung who seems caught in the euphoria of the performance, your quietness blissfully overlooked for the moment.

At the studio, it takes time for the locker room to clear out after the show, everyone else riding on the high of the performance too and slow to pack up for the night. It had gone so well, despite the way you had to push through the pain. As the pain worsens, you’re not sure how you’re going to get home, but you know you need to figure it out soon. You can maybe call one of your roommates, but on a Friday night it feels unlikely that they’ll be available or sober enough to get you.

A cramp ripples through you, and you grip down on the wooden bench, your leg bouncing to try and distract you from the waves of sensation washing over you. It’s been years since your last heat, and you can already tell this is going to be hard and heady. Sweat is collecting on your brow, waves of uncomfortable warmth passing through your body, and you can feel the way your breath is tightening. You really don’t have long, a matter of hours maybe, but it’s obvious to anyone who looks at you what’s going on.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scan through your contacts, blinking hard to try and clear your blurring vision. The phone keeps ringing, first one of your roommates, then another, and when you hit their voicemail boxes for the second time, your phone slips from your fingers in frustration. Tears prick the back of your eyes, your hands shaking. You really thought you had more time.

A noise across the locker room startles you, the heavy metal clang of a locker closing and you realize someone’s still in here with you. You’re trembling, a mix of abject panic and pain, your omega surfacing inside you in a way that you can’t control. Footsteps come closer, and though you’re still shielded by a row of lockers and can’t see him, you can smell him. Rich, cocoa and cinnamon.

Mingi walks past your section of lockers, and you hope he won’t notice, but you’re never, ever that lucky.

“Hey,” He says when he catches sight of you, “you did good tonight,”

You keep your eyes away from his, curling down further to tug at the laces of your shoes and hope that he doesn’t notice the way you’re clenching your jaw to keep from crying, “Thanks,”

“Yeah,” He says, and you hear his steps shift and then pause.

Your eyes press closed as you hide behind the curtain of your hair.

“y/n,” Mingi asks, “are you okay?”

“Mhm,” You pull your laces tight, your insides cramping painfully as your body registers the presence of an alpha.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek you steady your voice, “Yeah, I’m good, just tired.”

Mingi doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, and there’s really only so long you can pretend to tie your shoes. You tug your other laces taut and then do your best, leaning back up into a normal sitting position despite the pained pressure inside you. You grip down on the bench again and breathe slowly through your nose.

“Are you hurt?” Mingi asks, concern evident in his voice, “Did you pull something?”

You shake your head, you can’t trust your words.

“Something’s wrong,” Mingi takes a step forward and you jolt back, sliding off the edge of the bench with a tight sound, your back connecting hard with the lockers behind you. His eyes widen at your sudden movement and you hold a hand out to keep him right where is.

“Stop,” You plead, body shaking, “don’t,”

“You are hurt,” He can feel your fear, and his eyes are panicked as he scans your body, “what happened?”

“It’s not,” You sigh, shaking your head, another hot flash making your cheeks light up with blush and cutting your words.

When he takes another step forwards you watch his face change, the way his breathing settles low into his chest as he regards you and comprehension starts to relax his face. Your eyes press closed as another cramp ripples through your abdomen, and suddenly you feel the first rush of slick.

“Fuck,” Mingi says, “what are you doing here?”

“Working,” You groan, opening your eyes again.

“You should be on heat leave,” He shakes his head, “you should be home,”

“I know,” You nod, your throat growing tight and tears bubbling back up, “I-I asked, but it would have been unpaid, and with the performance… I couldn’t afford to not be here. I thought I had a little more time,”

“Okay,” He steps a little closer and you shake your head, pressing your body back further against the lockers as if that will do anything, “it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that,” You laugh humorlessly, “but right now your scent is making this harder,”

“Oh,” He swallows hard, “I didn’t mean to,”

“Mingi,” You meet his gaze and his eyes soften, “I need help,” You wish you didn’t have to ask. You wish you had just stayed home, not rationed your suppressants, and just handled this on your own.

He nods, straightening up and swallowing hard, “Okay, let’s go,”

“Go?” You watch as he picks up your bag and slings it over his shoulder with his own.

“Can you walk?” He holds a hand out to you, an offering and nothing more if you want it.

“Yeah,” You stammer, pushing yourself off the lockers, but one step already has you shaky and you grip his hand and let him hold your weight to keep you standing.

“Alright,” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, just hold your breath or something,”

His arm wraps around your back, pulling you up and supporting your weight with a sure hand on your forearm and with his help, you take a step. His scent is dizzying, equal parts calming and arousing, and tears roll down your cheeks as you try to keep quiet and hold it together. Slick pools between your thighs and you’re sure he can smell it, but he’s doing a good job of saying nothing about it to you.

“W-where are we going?” You manage as he pushes the door to the locker room open and steers you out into the dimly lit hallway of the dance studio.

“We need to get Yunho,” He says with ease, like it’s obvious and poses absolutely no problem.

At the thought of him, your body clenches and you bite down to keep a tight, pained sound inside. “No, Mingi, he can’t,”

“We’re past that point,” Mingi is all but dragging you now, “I need his help, I can’t get you home by myself.”

Yunho’s the only one with a car between them, not the mention a driver’s license. Mingi typically hitches a ride with him or using the subway, and at this stage in your heat, it’s not safe to take public transportation or put you in a taxi. There are too many variables, too many people you don’t know, and you need someone you trust to get you to a safe location to ride this out. The idea of Yunho tears your body in two, caught between the feeling of wanting him and never wanting him to know about this, but you know he’s safe, that safe place.

There’s a light still on in the office at the end of the hall where you know Yunho is going through footage from the day and making notes while things are still fresh in his mind. When you’re close enough to the door but still safely in the hall, Mingi calls out, “Yunho!”

“Yeah?” He shouts back, and you can hear the distraction in his voice, a clear picture of him writing something down as he calls over his shoulder.

“I need your help,” Mingi adjusts his grip on you, holding you close as your body trembles in his arms, “like right now,”

“Uh,” Yunho trails off, “yeah, okay, yeah, I’m coming.” You hear Yunho jump up from the chair in the office, his quick footsteps, and another wave of fear flutters through you.

“Mingi,” You grip down on his hand.

“Right, fuck,” He remembers himself, tucking you closer to his chest, “slowly,”

“What?” Yunho’s voice comes from the office but you can see his shadow on the floor in the hall as he gets closer to the door.

“Yunho!” Mingi’s voice is deep, clear and firm and you let your head rock back on his shoulder, “Slowly, seriously,”

He’s not distracted anymore, he’s incredibly alert. Yunho steps into the hallway slowly, just as directed when he hears the tenor of his best friend’s voice, and it takes him seconds to size up what’s going on.

“y/n,” He takes a half step forward and stops himself, arm outstretched, “oh no,”

His soft tone soothes you instantly but it doesn't help the emotional live wire you feel like you’re walking, and a little sob bubbles out of you, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“You’re in heat,” He says, shaking his head, “it’s not safe for you to be here, why are you here?”

Your omega shrinks and more tears spill over, the wave uncontrollable now, “I’m sorry, please,”

Yunho’s eyes flick to Mingi’s before he comes closer, reaching out for you, “I’m not upset,”

Relief washes through you, “You’re not?”

“No,” He assures you, his voice dropping to a warm and even tone, “I’m just worried about you, I want you safe. Come here,”

You comply instantly, stepping out of Mingi’s hold and straight into Yunho’s arms, letting him tuck you close into his chest before he adjusts his stance and brings your face up to the crook of his neck. His scent washes over you like a salve, nothing but warm rain and fresh cut cedar.

“Shh,” He soothes you, running a hand down your back, “there we go, take a deep breath,”

For a minute, it feels like your cramps have passed, your head clearing. He grounds you and brings you back into your body with his touch and you breathe low and slow, your hands gripping his shirt.

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, “what’s your heat plan? We can take you and get you there safe,”

You shake your head into his neck, nuzzling closer to his skin, “I don’t really have one,”

“What do you mean?” He asks, clearly not understanding.

“You can take me home,” You tell him, eyes drifting closed, “I usually can take care of things myself,”

“That’s insane,” Mingi says from behind you both, and you feel Yunho’s hands tighten on your back.

“Who’s there with you?” Yunho asks, “Don’t you have roommates?”

You nod, resting on his shoulder, “Mhm,”

“y/n,” He prompts you, “what are their designations?”

“Mm,” You’re feeling so warm wrapped in his scent, “Ari and Hyejin are betas, Hyunwoo is an alpha but he’s probably out tonight,”

“Tonight,” Yunho shakes his head, “you go through heats like this with an alpha home?”

“Not like this,” You mumble into his chest and he shifts you in his arms.

“What did you say?”

“Not a heat like this,” You manage, “I’m normally on pretty heavy suppressants,”

“She can’t go home like this,” Mingi says, “this is still just pre-heat,”

“I think so,” Yunho’s voice sounds far away, and you sink into the steady sound of his heart and the feeling of his hand smoothing a comforting line up and down your back. When he finally speaks again, his voice is so tender you almost don’t recognize it, “Can we bring you home? Let me help, you can’t go through a heat this hard by yourself,”

“Yunho,” You shudder against him, “we can’t,”

The thought of his cock inside you flashes through your brain, and you imagine the feeling of his swollen knot locking in, your body full and sated and the cramps dissipating. Your core throbs at the idea and you feel another rush of slick rush through you.

“You’re in pain,” He murmurs, dropping his head a little lower, “you need an alpha. Let me take care of you, let me take you home,”

You should say no, you should take your chances in your apartment with your box of toys and a bottle of lube, but you keep breathing in his steady scent and all you can do is say yes. Yunho’s been kind to you since the beginning, taking care of you for weeks even if he didn’t really know it, and he can take care of you now too if you just let him.

“We’ll take care of you,” Mingi cuts in, offering his help softly, “and make sure you’re safe until it’s over,”

“Are you sure?” You pull back from Yunho’s neck, leaning heavily on his chest still.

He cups your cheek in his broad hand, bringing your eyes up to his, and nods, “Positive, and if you don’t,” he swallows hard tries to find the right words, “if you don’t want to have sex we can figure something out, but you need a place that’s private, and you need to be with more experienced alphas who know how to keep their hands to themselves.”

They’re not wrong. You just have to trust them. You just have to let go.

Your body makes the decision for you, the way your aching and throbbing is soothed just being between them, and you let your mind follow.

“Okay,” You sigh, leaning into his hand, “yes,”

“Alright,” He sighs, “don’t worry about a thing, okay? We’ll get you home.” Yunho’s thumb rubs a soothing pattern into the soft gland at your wrist and it relaxes you further. He looks over you for a moment, “Mingi, I need you to take her for a minute, I’ll get the car.”

When Yunho steps away, just to try and pass you back to Mingi, the lack of contact strikes panic through you and you shake your head, “No, no, don’t go,”

“It’s not for long,” He assures you, his hands sliding down your arms as he separates from you slowly, “I’ll be back in 5 minutes,”

A panicked whine leaves your throat and your mind spins, “Don’t leave me!”

“Hey,” He soothes you but you don’t respond, all you know is he’s leaving and you’ll be without him and the thought makes your body clench. “y/n, hey, y/n,” He tries again but you’re shaking your head. “Omega.” His voice roots you to the spot.

Mingi’s hands close over you gingerly from behind, and Yunho nods as your panicked noises stop, “Okay, see?” He says, “Listen to me, omega, I’m not going far. You won’t be alone, Mingi’s right here. I’ll be back in five minutes, and then I won’t leave you again, okay?”

“Okay,” You lean back into Mingi, and let his touch keep you warm.

Yunho nods and then keeps his eyes on you as he moves back to the office, darting out of your eye line for a moment. You can hear him grabbing his things; the zip of his bag, the jingle of his keys, and the lights flick off before he jogs back out.

“Here,” He says, holding out his jacket, “put this on,”

Mingi takes it from his hands, and eases it onto you. When you pull the jacket up, his scent washes over you again and you sigh.

“Better?” Yunho asks.

“Mhm,” You murmur, and tucked into the warmth of Mingi’s chest with their combined scents easing you, you can breathe. You keep your eyes closed, but you hear when Yunho walks out the front door and your body clenches a little, but you take a deep breath in.

“Mingi,” You finally say, looking up at him, “thank you for not leaving me,”

“Hey,” He shakes his head, “I was never going to leave you there,”

You nod, twisting in his arms so you can tuck your face into his chest and let his arms wrap fully around you, “I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I’m not usually such a touchy person,”

He chuckles, smoothing your hair with his hand, “It’s okay, I like it,”

“And Yunho?”

“Oh,” Mingi laughs, “he’s a cuddler, don’t worry.”

Your stomach cramps and you groan into his chest, “God,” you grip him, “I forgot how much this hurts,”

“How long has it been?” Mingi shifts his grip so that more of your weight is supported, “You know, since your last real heat?”

“Years,” You tell him honestly, “they’ve been so much easier on suppressants,”

“Mm,” Mingi nods above you, “when this hits it’s going to be intense,”

“Have you helped a partner through heat before?”

“I have,” Mingi says, “but Yunho hasn’t,”

“Oh,” You have no idea why Yunho offered himself up immediately like he had done it a thousand times before if he’s never shared a heat with someone. The sure, practiced tenor of his voice when he called you omega rings in your ears.

“Don’t worry,” Mingi assures you, “I know what I’m doing, and Yunho’s got a handle on himself. He won’t touch you if you don’t want him to,”

“I’m really, really not worried about that,” You sigh.

“Good,” Mingi’s phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, and he adjusts his arms around you so he can find it, “We’ll take care of you - Hey? Are you out front?”

You can’t hear Yunho’s side of the conversation but you just wait, held against him.

“Okay, I got her,” Mingi says, and you smile.

You forgot the way that heat takes over every physical sensation, every little thing heightened until you feel like you’re on a razor’s edge. In a matter of hours you’re going to be a writhing mess, in so much pain you might be delirious - you might ask anything of them, beg for anything. You have to reconcile with your shame now, and let them help. After weeks of dancing around Yunho, what you really want is to ask him out for coffee, not this. Mingi is no stranger to being flirtatious, those sparks between you already evident, but it always felt like a little inside joke between friends, not a step towards anything more.

“Alright, just a little further,” Mingi urges you as he slips his arm under yours.

It takes time to get to the car, but when you get there, Mingi slides into the backseat with you instead of taking the front with Yunho like he normally would. Enclosed in the warmth of the car, you relax into Mingi’s arms and find Yunho’s eyes studying you in the rearview mirror. Their scents settle you a bit, more than any other alpha’s ever has.

“I’m okay,” You assure them, “it’s coming and going,”

“We don’t live too far,” Yunho smiles, “so just try to relax and we’ll be inside soon, okay?”

“Yeah,”

Mingi eases you against him, feeling your exhaustion, until you’re nestled in his lap with his fingers softly carding through your hair. Yunho’s eyes flick back to you again and again as he drives, but for the first time since the locker room, you’re not in too much pain.

“Yunho,” Mingi murmurs and his friend hums a noise of acknowledgement, “we need to pick up a few things for her,”

“What do you mean?”

“She needs to eat before this really starts,” Mingi says quietly, “I think we have water bottles at home and ice packs?”

“Yeah we do, I went to the store a couple days ago,” Yunho glances back at you again.

“Okay,” Mingi’s fingers keep up their soothing brushes on your scalp, “and we need condoms, in case.”

“Oh,” Yunho blinks and opens his mouth to say something but you get there more quickly.

“We don’t need them,” You twitch as a cramp ripples through you, “I’m on birth control,”

“If it would make you feel more comfortable though,” Mingi offers.

“No,” You groan a little and shift on the uncomfortable back seat, “really, I’m good.”

The car is quiet for a minute, the reality sinking in that they won’t just be keeping you safe tucked away in a room in their apartment, but they will be helping you. Yunho clears his throat, “Then we’re good, let’s get you home and in bed, and then we can order food? Do we have time?”

“Mhm,” You assure him, “I’m okay now that i’m with you both,”

“Exactly,” Mingi soothes you as your fists tighten, eyes closing as you breathe through another small cramp, “your alphas will take good care of you,”

You release a shuddering breath, the word sinking into your chest and keeping you whole.

“Almost there,” He murmurs, “just breathe, omega,”

Getting you upstairs to their apartment proves a little challenging, moving through the lobby of the apartment building and ferrying you into an elevator. They stay close to you, keeping you firmly tucked between them as they walk you in, and you do your very best to seem in control and not draw any unnecessary attention.

The minute their apartment door closes though, your legs give out and Mingi scoops you up, “You did so well,” he assures you, and it’s evident now that he is the one with the experience here, knowing exactly what the primal part of your brain needs to hear.

“I’ll order food,” Yunho says, giving you a small smile.

“Get her some meat,” Mingi directs him, “broth too, and lots of rice,”

“You are good at this,” You sigh.

“We got you,” Mingi grins, acting like this is second nature, “now… I can put you to bed, or would you like a cool shower before you lay down? I know that helps,”

“Mm, yes please,” You nod.

“Alright,” Mingi nods and looks up, “get the food going, and then meet me in my room with some water and the ice packs.”

“Right,” Yunho looks at you, “are you okay with just Mingi?”

“Yeah,” You smile, “I’m feeling okay,”

“Good,” Yunho smiles back and pulls out his phone to order the food, “then I’ll meet you there.”

Mingi sets you up in the bathroom with ease, making sure you have towels and everything you need. Your heat is coming, building inside your body with every cramp and rush of warm blush, but their combined scents keep things calm enough for you to take care of yourself a bit. He asks you to keep the door unlocked in case you need help, and leaves you to your moment of peace. You let the cool water settle your body, taking solace in this dip of your pre-heat before things get worse.

When you’re done, wrapped up in fluffy towels and feeling decidedly less sticky from the combination of sweat and slick, you make your way out into the hall. There are three bedrooms, an empty one you assume is Yunho’s, one that’s been converted into an office, and then one larger room at the end of the hall that you know must be Mingi’s.

He appears in the doorway before you make it too much further and smiles, “Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you so much,”

“Mhm,” He reaches for you, “come on in, we got everything ready for you,”

His bedroom smells overwhelmingly like cinnamon when you first cross through the door and you feel a tense flutter in your core. His room is tidy, clean and organized well, which feels surprising for Mingi given how chaotic and busy he can seem at times. The bed is made, but the covers are pulled back for you and you see a folded shirt and thin sleep pants at the edge of the bed. Yunho is sitting in a chair in the corner by the foot of the bed and waiting, the dresser adjacent to his side equipped with almost everything you’ll need. Water bottles, pain killers, and ice packs, an unfilled bowl with a few washcloths stacked inside.

“How do you know all this?” You catch Mingi’s eye.

“My girlfriend in college went through terrible heats,” He explains easily, directing you towards the bed, “I remember what used to make her feel a little better,”

“Ah,” That explains so much of him, and his easy reaction to finding you in the locker room.

“Do you need help getting dressed at all?” He asks.

“No, I just really want to lie down,” Your limbs are starting to feel heavy and achy.

“We’ll leave you be then,” Yunho offers, “and when the food gets here we’ll bring some in,”

“Mhm,” You sigh, sinking down onto the bed, “thank you both again, so much,”

When you’re finally alone in Mingi’s room, you start to take stock of your body and how it feels, getting a sense of how far you are from the real thick of your heat. Judging by the intensity of your cramps and the fact that you’re starting to produce slick, you know you’re not too far off, maybe a few hours at most. The onset of your heat is normally much slower than this, a long few days of light pre-heat into a couple of days of uncomfortable cramps and extremely high arousal. On suppressants it feels easy, off them everything is unpredictable.

You pull on the clothes they left you, but they smell like stale lavender, artificial like laundry detergent and it’s not helping. You find the hamper in the corner and toss off the top, digging through Mingi’s clothes until you find a hoodie and you bury your face in it before taking a deep inhale and letting the warm smell of him pass through you. It might be crossing a line, but you don’t really care, you need them.

A pulsing wave passes through you and you collapse back into the bed, tugging on the hoodie and curling yourself up in the covers. The bed smells like him too, and you gather a pillow to your chest and take a deep inhale. Your neediness is starting to build up again with every passing minute, flushing heat through your chest and where you were cold a moment ago you’re suddenly overheated. You kick off the covers, but keep them close, and pile the pillows around you too so you can better inhale his scent.

Slick rushes forwards again and you bite your inner cheek to stifle a moan and keep things in check. You push off the sleep pants they had given you, and fish through your gym bag until you find a clean pair of underwear and some wipes. You clean yourself up a bit, and change your underwear for the third time today, before deciding that there’s no point in putting the pants back on. Mingi’s hoodie falls low over your shorter frame, dragging along your thighs.

You bury yourself back in his bed, and do your best to get a little rest before what’s to come.

When you wake, it’s to Mingi pushing back his hoodie so he can see your face a little better, “Hey,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” You sigh, “and sore,”

“Okay,” He smiles and tugs lightly on the strings of his hoodie, “is this helping?”

“Mm,” You nod into his palm, but nervous knots start to curl up in your belly, “where’s Yunho?”

“I’m here,” Yunho’s voice comes from the opposite side of the bed, and you twist in the sheets to find him, a cramp pulsing through you as you do and you groan, gripping onto the bed sheets beneath you.

“Easy,” Mingi scolds you softly, “you need all the rest you can get,”

Yunho finds your eyes and smiles, “What’s wrong?” He asks gently, noticing your nervous fidgeting.

“I don’t know, I thought you left,” You manage.

“I’m an idiot,” Mingi sighs behind you and his hand that rests on your hip shifts away, “stay with her a second,”

“Mhm,” Yunho’s eyes don’t leave you, and he reaches out to rest his hand on yours, “we’ve got dinner, and then once you eat you can rest, we won’t go anywhere.”

You watch his face as he studies your features, his breathing slow and steady, when you hear Mingi come back into the room behind you. “Here we go,” He says, and you feel a large, soft blanket draping over you. The smell of wet earth and rain in the air fills your senses again and you drag the blanket up and around you with a sigh.

“You’re nesting,” Yunho observes, his mouth dropping open, “of course,”

“She couldn’t smell you in here,” Mingi explains with ease, “she needs you to relax,”

You nod, your cheek pressed against the blanket, “You smell like a thunderstorm,”

Yunho sits slowly on the bed by your side, brushing your hair back behind your ear and smoothing his thumb along your cheekbone, “Is that right?” he smiles.

“I love thunderstorms,” Your eyes drift closed.

Mingi chuckles, “I think she’s found herself a heat partner,”

“Only if she wants one,” Yunho presses, “and only after she eats,”

Your eyes reopen, and you push yourself up to your knees, dropping the hood of Mingi’s sweatshirt and running your hands over your warm cheeks. “We need to talk now,” You blink hard and take a deep breath, “before I get too far into this,”

“Let’s eat then,” Mingi gestures for you to sit back more comfortably and you watch as he and Yunho both produce boxes of take out from bags on the dresser, “what are you thinking?”

“Well,” You shift up the bed to lean against the headboard, dragging Yunho’s blanket with you, “I haven’t gone through this in a while. I’m not sure how it’s going to be, but you said you wanted to help. What did you mean by it?”

Yunho looks like he’s not sure exactly what to say or where to start and Mingi cuts in smoothly, “I’m willing to help with all of it. If you want me gone, I’m gone. If you want help to come to take the edge off, I can do that, and if you want me to actually knot you,” he gestures for you to fill in the blanks.

“Right,”

“But,” Mingi cuts in and your eyes shift back to him, “You seem to want Yunho,”

His eyes flick down to the way you’re rubbing his blanket between your thumb and forefinger and you drop it instantly, not even realizing what you were doing. Mingi smiles softly and adds, “I think you prefer his scent,”

“No!” You exclaim, wincing at the way your body tenses up, “No, it’s not that, at all.”

“Earlier,” Mingi takes a seat on the edge of the bed, “you said my scent was making it harder, that’s not what I want to do for you.”

“Mingi,” You shake your head, “I meant because it’s good, both of you. So, no I don’t have a preference.”

“Oh,” Mingi smiles, and then turns to Yunho, “how are you feeling?”

He clears his throat softly and nods, “The same as you, I’m all in.”

“Okay,” You exhale slowly, “then so am I,”

Mingi passes you a take out container and a pair of chopsticks, “Eat this, okay?”

“Mhm,” You’re caught between exhaustion and adrenaline, but you stay focused on the task at hand. You all eat quietly, the atmosphere a little awkward now that you’ve all agreed.

As you finish the container of food, Yunho smoothly passes you another and he says, “So, you feel comfortable with us?”

“I do,” You nod, shifting a little at a slight pain in your back, “I like you both, and if I can trust you in the studio, I can trust you with this.”

“And if you ask us to knot you?” Mingi prompts.

“Right,” You swallow, resting the container of food on your lap, “I guess there are some things we should say now,”

They look at you, waiting expectantly.

“People say things during heat,” You start, imagining all the things you might beg them for for the next few days to come. “It’s not like I’ll be out of my mind or anything, you know that,” You nod to Mingi.

“Mhm,”

“But it’s still hard to control,” You explain, and Yunho listens intently, “I don’t know what it’ll be like for me. It’s been a long time, but you have my permission to do whatever we need to. If I ask you to knot me, knot me.”

“Okay,” Mingi nods, “it’s good that we’re clear.”

You feel another flush up your chest and you breathe slowly, “But no matter what,” you hold their gazes, “if I ask you to claim me, don’t. Don’t do it, even if I tell you I’m sure.”

“Absolutely not,” Mingi’s brow furrows, and he looks shocked that you’d even have to say it, “there’s no way.”

“I know you know,” You swallow and reach for a water bottle on the nightstand, “but Yunho, you’ve never done this before.”

“That might be true,” He shakes his head, “but I know you wouldn’t mean that, it would just be the heat talking,”

“Exactly,” You nod, “I might sound like I want that or like I need that, but I don’t.”

“Understood,” Yunho nods, “I wouldn’t, I swear,”

You sink back into your pillows and tuck back into your box of food, “I just want you to be prepared,” you explain, “and before I start crying and begging you to give me a pup, I wanted to say it,”

Mingi laughs into his food, choking a little, “Sorry, no, not funny,”

You smile, the mood a little lighter now, “It’s kind of funny.”

Yunho smiles, shifting further onto the bed as he all but inhales his noodles, “You seem a better, I thought it was going to just get worse,”

“Oh, it will,” You shrug, “but the food is nice, and you’re both here with me. When Mingi found me I was scared and alone, which always makes it worse,”

Mingi’s hand rubs a comforting line up your shin, “You’re very safe now,”

“I know,” You nod.

“Eat some more,” Yunho notices that you’ve taken too long of a pause, and he gestures for you to keep going, “and then what would be nice? Some sleep?”

“Maybe,” You dip back into your rice, “would you stay?”

“I’ll stay,” Yunho murmurs.

“Me too,” Mingi adds.

They keep on you to eat, making sure you’ve had your fill. Afterwards, you rest between them watching some television, keeping your mind off things as best you can while you’re still feeling somewhat okay. They’re careful of you though, every shift of your body and soft hiss through your teeth drawing their attention. Mingi is still cool and evenly calm, but surprisingly Yunho is too, and you wonder what they talked about while you were in the shower. Did they discuss what to do at all? What the night and the next few days would be like?

You’re so exhausted, slipping further down into the bed, nestled in pillows and wrapped in Yunho’s blanket. They naturally gravitate closer, their hands finding their way to your skin, and you’re not sure if it’s just their alpha nature or if it’s them, but you’ve never been more grateful for it.

The cramps start to become unbearable again soon after they start to hold you. You’re not sure if their presence is making things move more quickly, let alone being with two alphas, but within the hour the pain sets in.

You curl into Mingi’s chest as tight pain cuts through you, “Fuck,” you pant against him, “it hurts,”

“I know,” Mingi soothes you, scooting down the bed until he’s eye to eye with you, “but you’re not alone,”

A sharper, biting pain rips through you and a flood of heat washes over you. You grip down hard on Yunho’s hand, curling into yourself with a taut moan, “It… it hurts,”

“Shh,” Yunho kisses your hair, running his hand up and down the expanse of your abdomen, “I know it hurts, jagiya,”

You whine at the name, desperate to hear him call you anything and everything. Your omega thrums inside you - every touch telling you just how much closer your heat is than you realize. “Please,” You plead, but you don’t know exactly what you’re pleading for, “I can’t breathe,”

“Yes, you can,” Mingi tries to sooth you, his hand on your cheek, “look at me, y/n, come on omega,”

Tears well in your eyes, heat flooding through your veins and a pulsating need fluttering through you. If they don’t touch you, you might wither into nothing. Your hips tuck back into Yunho’s and you groan, “I can’t,”

“She’s burning up,” Yunho murmurs from your side.

“Let’s take this off then,” Mingi tugs on the sleeves of his hoodie slowly, coaxing your arm through. He can see your rising panic at the idea you won't be wrapped in their scents, but he shakes his head slowly, “easy, love, let your alphas help,”

As the heavy sweatshirt is pulled away, you drop back on the bedding between them. The thin t-shirt they gave you is all but soaked through with sweat, sticking to your curves. Your head is aching, waves of feverish heat washing over you again and again, and you whimper, your legs twitching as you try to find a somewhat comfortable position.

“Hey, hey,” Yunho’s thumb settles over the swollen gland in your neck, and he strokes it soft and slow, “just breathe,”

It settles you, just a bit, and you let your eyes drift shut. With a sigh you reach for Mingi just to feel a bit of his skin on yours, “I’m not even properly in heat yet and I feel like I could crawl out of my skin,”

“Hot?” Mingi brushes the damp hair back from your forehead.

“It’s like my skin is tingling,” You murmur, “like a nerve,”

“Okay,” He nods. He shifts off the bed and your eyes flutter open. Mingi soothes you with a gentle hand, before moving towards the dresser, “Yunho, get those clothes off her,”

Yunho’s eyes lock on yours, “Can I?”

You nod, your head feeling full and pained.

Yunho’s hand slips under the edge of your damp shirt, coasting up your stomach as he pushes the fabric up and the drag of his hot hand sends a pulse through your body. You moan, head dropping back into the bedding, and you feel another gush of slick.

“It’s okay,” Yunho soothes as you he drops your shirt to the side of the bed, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,”

You huff, a light laugh as you shake your head, “Easy for you to say, you’re not falling apart whenever I touch you,”

“Yet,” He smiles.

“Who are you kidding?” Mingi returns to your bedside with a bowl of cool ice water and a damp washcloth. He throws a smile at his friend before ringing out the washcloth over the bowl, “The minute you saw us in the hall you were all alpha protection mode, scenting her and everything,”

“Shut up,”

You grin, but Mingi sweeps a cold line up your body with the cloth and you shudder, “Fuck, that’s nice,”

“Good,” Mingi murmurs, passing another wet washcloth to Yunho. When Mingi presses a firm line up your chest, and sweeping a little too close to your neck your body arches and your nipples harden into painful peaks.

You blush hard and drop a hand over your face, “I can’t believe we’re doing this,”

“Why?” Yunho asks gently, wiping your brow with the cool cloth.

“We work together,” You sigh, “closely together… I probably should have made you take me home or something but,”

“Do knotting dildos even really help?” Mingi asks bluntly.

“I mean,” You shrug, “they get the job done,”

“Hmm,” Mingi shakes his head, “not with a heat like this,”

“Maybe,” You sigh.

“y/n,” Yunho asks, “have you had a heat partner before? Have you been knotted?”

“A long time ago,” You nod, “it wasn’t a great experience, but you know, it is what it is.”

Yunho passes the cloth down your chest and you shudder, but he keeps the conversation going, “Why in the world are you off your suppressants then?”

Your eyes flick down, and you swallow hard, “I can’t afford them right now,”

“Wait,” Mingi shakes his head, “what?”

“The brand I’m on is the only one that works for me,” You explain, “they’re not priced like the generics, and I don’t have coverage yet. I’ve been rationing them out, but,”

“You should have talked to me about it,” Yunho shakes his head, brows knit together in concern, “we could have done something for you,”

“Yunho,” You meet his eyes, “I appreciate that, but I’m still kind of new here. I’m just trying to prove I belong here, and I didn’t want a reason to need a special exception.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but settles on nodding, “I can understand that.”

“I’m,” You tense up as your cramps intensify, “I’m glad to know I can talk to you, I’ll do it in the future, I just couldn’t come to you about this.”

“Alright,” He nods, his voice shifting to soothe again as your eyes clamp tightly shut.

“Are they worse?” Mingi asks.

You can’t answer, not yet, your muscles are locked up in crippling pain and you feel like you’re drowning in a sudden wave of hot air. You gasp as you feel your body produce more slick, your thighs surely sticky now, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of their hands and where they rest on your body.

“I think,” Your hips jerk as Mingi slides the washcloth just an inch up your side, “oh God, I think,”

“Okay,” Yunho pets your hair gently, “okay, just breathe,”

Your fingers tighten in the sheets beneath you and an overwhelming ache between your thighs reminds you just how empty your body is. You press your thighs together, feeling a throb in your core, and you can’t stop the whimper that bubbles from your lips.

“Let’s get these off too,” Mingi murmurs, his hands settling on your hip and tugging at your underwear to slowly peel them off.

Things are spinning around you, tense and painful suddenly and no amount of cool washcloths or gentle touches are going to help you now. Your vision feels blurry, and you curl into yourself, tucking your body into Yunho’s chest with a pained hiss.

“Oh, come here,” Yunho tucks you close, “I’ve got you,”

“Alpha,” You feel like crying suddenly, your stomach tense, “alpha, please,”

“What, jagiya?” Yunho murmurs against your hair.

You can’t explain what you need, all you know is that you can’t feel him close enough and you push the edges of his shirt up to try and find more of him, “Please,” you whine as you try to feel more of his skin on yours.

“Whoa, whoa,” He tries to catch your hands but it just makes you more tense.

“K-knot me,” Your stomach cramps, your cunt feeling swollen and sensitive, “please,”

“y/n,” Yunho tries again to pull your hands away but you drive forwards, pressing your cheek against his bare chest where his shirt is ridden all the way up and you sigh into his skin, pressing frantic kisses along his body.

“Please,” You beg again, “I’ll be so good for you, so good,”

“I know you will,” He manages, but he can’t deter you, and you feel the moment his body responds to yours. His hands tighten pleasantly on your hips, and you hear the change in his breath. He releases your hands and swallows hard, “Alright, alright,”

“No,” Mingi interrupts, “not yet,”

“Why?” You sob.

“You’re not ready yet,” He soothes, shifting closer behind you and placing a warm kiss on your bare back, “and Yunho and I are not going to hurt you tonight,”

“I don’t care,” Your hands slide down Yunho’s chest, searching for his waistband.

“Mingi’s right,” Yunho groans, attempting to disconnect your hands from him.

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and your hands fall away, “be still.” You’re sure you’re shaking like a leaf, and he sighs, “You need a little sleep,”

“I can’t sleep like this,” You shake your head, “everything hurts so much,”

“We’ll help with that,” Mingi pulls you away from Yunho’s chest, ignoring your tense whine at being pulled away from him, and slides a hand down your thigh to press your legs open, “we’ll help you sleep,”

Yunho rests his hand on your inner thigh, bending your knee to open you up for Mingi’s hand, “Let your alphas make you feel good,”

You’re shaking in their grip, Yunho’s hand feeling like a lead weight, and Mingi settles down low by your side so that you’re almost nose to nose, holding your gaze as his fingers gently sink into your wet folds.

“P-please,” The sound in your throat is tight, “I need you to fuck me,”

“Mhm,” Mingi nods, unfazed by your sudden shift in demeanor as your heat finally starts to build, “we will, but not yet,”

You stifle a groan and turn your head away from him, tears gathering in your eyes as Mingi’s middle finger flattens out over your clit and starts to rock. All it does is stoke heat inside you and your vision blurs, the empty pocket inside you aching like never before. “Alpha,” You sob, “it’s not enough,”

You expect Mingi to respond, but instead it’s Yunho, cupping your cheek and drawing your face towards his, “Shh,” he shakes his head, a gentle expression on his face, “we have you, sweetheart,”

Something in his face calms you for a moment, the feeling of his warm gaze filling you and you want nothing more than to know he likes you. Approves of you. Your breath is slight, just a whisper in your throat.

Seeing your response he slides forwards, pressing his mouth to yours in a warm, tender kiss. His hand slips down and he brushes over your gland again to keep you at ease, “Be patient for us,” he kisses you again, “and you know we’ll knot you nice and full,”

With a desperate pant you catch his mouth again, moaning against his mouth when Mingi finally, finally sinks a finger deep inside your aching core.

“You’re still so tight, omega,” Mingi murmurs. He pushes a second finger inside and starts to pump them in and out, and it’s not enough, nowhere near enough, but little blooms of pleasure spark up your spine and you fall back from Yunho into the bedding once more.

“More,” You widen your legs and cant your hips, “please, Mingi, please,”

He presses his lips to your forehead, nuzzling you softly until his mouth is close to your ear, “You’re so beautiful, omega. Did you know that?”

A wash of pleasure crashes through you and his fingers speed up, pushing into you more firmly, his thumb catching against your clit to heighten every thrust. You moan against him, gripping hard on his shirt and jutting your hips into his hand.

“And so good for us,” Yunho kisses your shoulder, traveling down until lips close around one of your stiff nipples.

“Ah,” You arch into his mouth, “ah, god,”

“Close already, omega?” Mingi teases, shaking his head despite the smile across his lips, “Are you that sensitive?”

“D-don’t tease me,” Hot pleasure sparks up your body and your head twists back, your body tight and stiff.

“Then come,” Mingi bites down on your earlobe gently and you whine.

“Do as your told,” Yunho urges you, sucking hard on your nipple and pressing your leg open wider, “our sweet little omega,”

You come so hard your brain whites out, your ears ringing and your body trembling. After an entire week of build up to your heat, and hours of feeling like your body was being stretched out long like a rubber band, snapping apart in their hands hits you so much harder than you ever could have imagined.

Your brain reconnects when you feel Yunho’s soft blanket tucked around your naked body, and you’re too exhausted to open your eyes, but you feel them cuddle close before you drop off into sleep drowning in cedar and cinnamon.

You have no idea what time it is when you wake again, your brain is too foggy and pained to even check the time. All you know is desperate need, all consuming emptiness and aching. When you reach out in front of you, the bed is empty and you stifle a sob. You’re alone, they’ve left you alone. You’re alone and you’re in heat, and you thought they wanted you, but all you can feel is shame. The primal part of your brain tells you that you’re not good enough, that if you had been a better omega for them they would have stayed. You’d be good and knotted by now.

Curling into the sheets you try to push yourself up, but find the effort even harder than before. You’re soaked in sweat, trembling uncontrollably, and the throbbing pulse of your cunt is so heady that you find yourself seeking any friction at all, squeezing your thighs tight and grinding against the balled up comforter.

You feel a body roll behind you, shifting closer, and when you hear his groggy, sleepy groan, you almost cry in relief. “A-alpha?” You can’t move too much, too it’s too painful, but you reach back for him.

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice is a little hoarse, and it takes him a minute to realize what’s going on, but in the early morning faded light he watches the way you’re struggling. “Oh,” he breathes, “it’s really started,”

You nod desperately, “I need help, alpha, please,”

“Okay,” His voice drops, and he slides across the bed to slot himself perfectly behind you, “I’m going to take care of you now,”

“Y-Yunho,” You squeeze yourself further back into him, “I’m so empty,”

His face is above yours now, studying your expression to try and determine if this is really it, and you don’t know where Mingi is to guide the situation but at the feeling of Yunho’s body behind yours, your will to care is fading away into nothing. He’s not touching you fast enough, and with a whimper, you twist your head in the sheets, bearing your neck and submitting.

“Oh,” Yunho’s hands tighten on you, “oh,”

“Please,” You press again, “it hurts, alpha,”

His cock stiffens behind you, and you almost cry in relief, rolling your hips back against him. “Fuck,” His face drops against your hair, “oh my god,”

“Inside me,” You beg, reaching back and tugging at his shirt, “now, please,”

He moves so much more quickly this time, pushing down his sweats and reaching between your thighs to check you, finding you soaked with slick and aching for him. You moan when you feel the press of his cockhead against your entrance, and in one fluid motion he slides home, fully seating himself inside you.

You’re shaking in his arms, the feeling of being this full making you almost delirious with joy. Yunho doesn’t move though. He has you pulled as close as possible so that your back is flush with his chest, arms wrapped around you and keeping you perfectly still. His forehead rests against the top of your head and you can hear his shaky breath. You need him to move, to fuck you, to fill you with pups and never leave you, but he doesn’t.

Slowly, his hips draw back just a little before sinking forward again, thrusting inside your tight channel experimentally like he’s trying to get a feel for you. Despite how your body prepared you for this, making you wet and relaxed to be able to accommodate an alpha’s knot, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is almost enough to make you come right then and there.

He thrusts again, slowly, and you whimper against him. You need more, and fast.

Yunho groans as he holds himself deeply inside you again, caressing your body with his free hand, “You are the best thing I’ve felt in my entire life,”

Your brain spins, pleasure flooding you and distantly you can hear yourself asking him to knot you. You’re not prepared for what he’ll feel like fucking you in earnest.

“Is that what my girl needs?” Yunho pants, and hand locking down over your hip to help pull your body back against his hard thrusts.

“God, please!” Your eyes close, falling apart into the sensations of him inside you.

He groans against you, “Tell me what you need, omega,”

The low tenor of his voice is nothing but alpha now, his instincts guiding him just as much as yours. You’re never going to last, not if he’s going to talk to you like this. With a taut moan you beg him, “Fill me up, alpha please, knot me please,”

His hand slides up your chest, up your neck until you’re shaking with need, and closes his fingers on your jaw until he draws your face up so he can watch your eyes. His hips shift their pace, no longer driving into you with frantic need but instead firm, deep thrusts of his cock. His eyes are blown wide with desire, his mouth falling open as he watches you falling apart on his cock, “You’re all fucking mine,”

You nod, hot tears gathering in your eyes from the overwhelming sensation and you cry out desperately for more.

“All mine,” He repeats and surges forwards to lock his lips on yours, “you belong to me,”

“Yes!” You choke, “I’m yours, only yours,”

“Good girl,” He angles his hips, and on the next thrust you’re spinning fast into the crest of your orgasm. With his face pressed against you, his lips at your ear, his next words snap you open. “I’ll give you perfect pups,” He pants, his knot swelling, “I’ll breed you so full,”

There’s nothing now but the feeling of him, all encompassing as your orgasm crashes down over you, muscles spasming around his hard length. You’re a babbling mess, but so is he, so close to coming that the first sensation as your eyes reopen is his knot pressing hard at your opening.

He’s so large already, larger than any partner or knotting dildo you’ve ever used, and you scramble a little in his hold, “Y-Yunho, I can’t,”

“Shh,” He holds you against him, “you can, I know you can,”

Pushing your hips down with his broad hands, he angles himself upwards until you feel the pressure of his knot pushing past your entrance and finally slipping inside you fully. It burns, your body aching to accommodate him, but with the way he’s holding you and the throb of his cock inside you, none of that matters.

He grinds his hips desperately into you, his knot swelling further inside you, and when he comes, releasing hot with a shuddering groan, you finally feel sated. Your body melts into him, pleasantly foggy and at ease, his knot no longer uncomfortable but essential.

You’re finally, finally full.

It takes time for Yunho to come back to his senses, his hands still locked on your skin and breathing shaky as he tries to regulate it. You realize now that you have a little clarity that it was his first time. Deep, instinctual need had guided him, but the longer he stays quiet, the longer you wonder if you did well for him.

After another minute or two you find his hand and lace your fingers together, “Yunho?”

“Yes?” He murmurs from behind you, his forehead still against your hair.

“Can you hold me please?” You murmur, squeezing his hand.

“Come here,” He sighs, shifting slightly to spoon you properly. As he does, the knot locked inside you shifts and you make a startled hum at the sensation. He smooths your hair back and tries to get a good look at you, “Does that hurt?”

“No,” You shake your head, adjusting so that you’re resting on his bicep, “I just feel full,”

“Mm,” He kisses your temple, nuzzling your skin with his nose as he breathes in your scent, “you’re perfect,”

Warmth blooms in your chest, “So are you,”

“I want you like that again and again,” His hand slips out of yours so that he can coast it over your body, feeling your warm skin under his hands.

“You can have me like that again and again,” You smile, “I’ll be in heat for days.”

“Days of this,” He sighs, his hand dipping down over your hip and settling over your stomach. He inches his fingers down, passing over your sensitive nub and feeling the place where your bodies connect, locked together.

“Does it feel good for you too?” You murmur, a little breathy as his hand slips back over your clit.

“I’ve never felt anything like this,” He presses closer to you, “it’s incredible,”

You chuckle, kissing his arm and relaxing further into his touch. You’re about to agree, to say more, to confess that in truth it’s your only experience in heat that so far hasn’t been terrible, but the door to the bedroom opens and Yunho tenses.

Mingi opens the door slowly, and Yunho pulls you close, his hand closing over your stomach and his other arm wrapping around your shoulders. It’s just Mingi, but Yunho’s brain must still be fogged with the intrinsic need to protect you and in the presence of another alpha, he can’t see that it’s just his friend.

“Mingi,” You shake your head, feeling how tense Yunho is behind you, “give him a minute,”

“You’re okay?” He checks, staying rooted to the spot at the door, knowing that Yunho could hurt you if he stops thinking straight and tries to defend you against the imagined threat of another alpha.

“I’m perfect,” You assure him, “I promise,”

“Is he?” Mingi looks anxious.

“He’s fine,” You nod, smoothing your hand across his arm to try and relieve some of his tension, “but we need some more time.”

Mingi nods, “Come find me when you’re done,”

“We will,”

Mingi’s eyes flick to Yunho, “Be careful with her,”

“I got it,” Yunho’s voice sounds strained.

Mingi nods once, and then disappears, leaving the door open, and you suspect it's so he can hear things a little better should you need him. Yunho’s muscles unlock slowly, his thumb unconsciously rubbing a steady line over your abdomen, and he exhales heavily into your hair.

After a while, you expect his knot to have gone down, but he’s just as locked inside you as ever. The overwhelming alpha quality though has started to fade, and you rest lazily in his arms as he plays with your fingers and waits it out.

“Does it normally take this long?” He asks finally.

“Not usually,” You shake your head, “but it’s your first time knotting someone properly, so it might just take a little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs.

“Why?” You tug him a little closer to your back, “This is exactly what I need,”

“Everything felt right?” He pushes himself up onto one elbow so that he can look down at you a little better, propping his head in his hand.

“Mhm,” You assure him, “Better than right,”

He smiles, his eyes flicking over you appreciatively.

“What about for you?” You bring him back to center, rubbing a circle into his palm with the pad of your thumb.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” He says honestly, and your mouth drops open. “No, no,” He cups your cheek, “I meant that it was just… much more intense than I expected. I said a lot of things to you, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that type of thing was just played up in porn,”

“Oh,” You grin, delighted a little by the way his ears run red.

“Yeah,” He smiles, blush creeping into his cheeks now, “I just couldn’t stop myself,”

“Mm,” You nod, “I get it, completely. This is why I wanted to talk before I was in heat,”

“Was it too much?” He checks in.

“No,” You assure him, “It was just what I needed to hear, and it doesn’t mean anything outside of my heat, it’s just instinct.”

He nods and sighs, dropping back to the bed and cuddling you close again, “Good,” he murmurs, “then don’t worry about how clingy I’m about to get,”

“You? Clingy?” You giggle against his chest, “I don’t believe it,”

“I’m a softie,” He shrugs, “I don’t know what to tell you,”

“But you always seem so serious at the studio,” You murmur, “and I’ve seen you go out with a lot of women,”

“Ah,” He laughs, “well the studio is work, and I’m responsible for a lot there. And as far as the dates,” he corrects, “I am trying to appease my mother because she desperately wants me to find a wife, which I’m not really focused on right now, but she’s pretty obstinate.”

“Such a mystery, Jeong Yunho,” You prod him lightly.

“Not really,” He kisses your hair, sighing into you, “I’m just a guy,”

You hum and let your eyes drift closed as he holds you.

He yawns and sighs again, “So, forgive me if I cuddle you to death while you’re here, like I said, softie,”

“I’m not complaining,” You sink into his touch.

He groans a little, his knot finally softening but he stops you when you shift your hips, “Go slow, I don’t want to hurt you,”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, feeling the way his knot fades down into being barely there. His cock starts to soften, and you slowly ease your way forwards while he shifts his hips back, disconnecting you both with a soft wet sound.

His release floods out of you, leaving you messy and sticky, but Yunho kisses your shoulder and shifts away, “Hold tight, I’ll get a towel,”

He seems incredibly unembarrassed about the messy state of heat sex, which you’re eternally grateful for, and within a few minutes you’re cleaned up and dressed again in yet another pair of clean underwear and one of the largest shirts of Mingi’s that you’ve ever seen.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asks as you finish cleaning your face up in the mirror of Mingi’s bathroom.

“A little sore,” You tell him honestly, “and cramping a little again, but it’s not too bad yet.”

“You want to come see Mingi then? Get out of this room for a minute?” He brushes his fingers down your back as he watches you in the mirror.

“Perfect,”

In the living room, Mingi is waiting. He’s pouring over with nervous energy, his leg bouncing and his fingers fidgeting with his phone, refreshing his social media feed over and over again. The television is on, but he’s clearly not watching, and instead you see him perk up at the first sounds of you emerging from the bedroom.

“Hey,” He twists around on the couch, looking a little relieved when he sees you completely fine and cleaned up wearing one of his t-shirts.

“Hey,” You smile, moving towards the couch, “can I sit?”

“Of course,” He gestures towards the couch, but that’s not exactly what you meant. The sight of him waiting for you, and the palpable taste of his anxiety in the air makes you feel needed, and you push his arms open to settle in his lap.

“Oh,” He adjusts his legs to give you a better seat and winds his arm around your back, “is everything okay?”

“Mhm,” You take his hand, rubbing your thumb gently over the gland in his wrist to soothe him, “you can relax, I’m perfectly fine,”

Yunho takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watches you and Mingi together. With a nudge to his friend’s thigh he gets Mingi’s attention and shakes his head, “I’m sorry I snapped at you,”

“It’s cool,” Mingi shrugs, “I know the feeling.”

“Where did you go, anyways?” You ask, leaning into his chest. The familiarity between the three of you should feel strange, before last night you really were only coworkers to each other. You might have even become friends, but now you’ve pushed so far past that you don’t know what you are except to accept that their hands on your skin feels right.

“I shouldn’t have left, I could feel you were getting restless,” he explains, “I went to make you some broth and get cold water, just putting a few things together, but by the time I got back you were both in it,”

“Ah,” You blush looking down at your hands, “sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mingi’s broad, warm hand rests on your bare thigh and gives you a subtle squeeze, “I’m glad Yunho could help. I just didn’t think it would be smart to interrupt you,”

“Good thinking,” Yunho adds, running a hand over his face and sighing, “you were right,”

“I told you,” Mingi nods, “it can be intense,”

Yunho passes a hand over your shin before pushing himself back up to stand and he stretches long and tall before groaning, “Alright, I’m starving.”

You clap a hand over your mouth, chuckling into your palm, “Classic,”

“Can I make you something?” He asks, “Either of you?”

Mingi shakes his head, “I’m good,”

“Me too,” You agree, “I should be hungry, but I’m really not,”

Mingi’s nose crinkles, “You should still eat,”

“Maybe in a bit,” You try to appease him.

“In a bit you’ll be jumping our bones again,” Mingi counters.

“I know,” You sigh, “but really, I’m okay. I feel pretty good,”

“This is really just because it’s day one right?” Yunho asks, a little less joking than before.

“Yeah,” You nod, “day one and two are never as bad, and you definitely have more lucidity as long as you’re managing the spikes well. Day three, four, and sometimes five if it lasts that long, are usually a lot harder.”

“How much is a lot?” Yunho asks, stepping close and running his hand over your hair, “You were already in a lot of pain,”

“I’ll be less coherent, and the fever can be worse. I probably won’t have down time like this,” You explain, “the pain isn’t necessarily worse, it’s just more consistent,”

He frowns, “Then you’re eating now,”

You sigh heavily and shake your head, “Honestly, you don’t need to, I can make myself something in a bit or,”

Mingi cuts you off and makes a dismissive noise with his tongue against his teeth, “y/n, relax. This is what we meant when we said we’d help you through your heat. It’s more than just orgasms and knots,”

You swallow back your words, holding his gaze.

“Alphas are meant to provide,” He reminds you, “so let us,”

A flutter of warmth bubbles through you, and you can only nod, no use arguing now when your mind is spinning and telling you to accept. Yunho drops a quick kiss on the top of your head, before disappearing into the kitchen. You’ve never had an alpha provide, never once. In your limited experience before going on suppressants, you were used to being knotted incredibly quickly and then left alone, or having a partner that never really knew how to fully satisfy, leaving you to feverishly deal with your needs while they slept. You’ve never experienced a heat where you felt wanted before.

You ease into Mingi’s chest, resting a head on his shoulder and letting your muscles relax for as long as you can. They make you food, massage your sore hips, and keep you distracted with stories and memories from before your time at the studio. They hold you close, and they ease your pain, they provide.

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