#I put too many dumb details

[zkullcat]

What if these guys were youtubers. Which one would you watch? Don’t Trace, Copy or Edit my art. Reblogs > Likes Commission’s Info // Carrd // Patreon

[exopelagic]

nobody should have to read and write abt papers it’s inhumane

[tinydefector]

Do you think cybertronians ever get a bit freaked out on how tough we are? Yes they can break us like toothpicks but humans seem to be able to take a good beating as well with adrenaline helping. Even our own body and oxygen trys kills us and yet we stick around like roaches. We're fragile in some reasonable and dumb ways and then resilient in the most dumbest ways.

Oh definitely, alot of the bots are very off put by how fragile humans are just in general and tend to avoid them.

But then there's the moments like Ratchet working a late shift and a small knock on the door alerts him someone's there, he turns around expecting it to be Rodimus or Whirl who he's about to scold but instead it's one of the humans and they look worse for wear. After fussing over them for a moment, detailed scans relay fractured ribs, a broken collar bone, and a heap of bruises and yet the humans just like. "Can I have some Panadol, Nurophen, and a glass of water?" Because they don't know what else to do its what they would get. Most of the times they ended up in the hospital. Ratchet is losing his God dawn mind as he rushes around looking for the best painkillers he can find for orgaincs in the smallest dosage he can give, hoping to primus it doesn't shut their heart down. In the end, they end up on a medication that makes them extremely drowsy, almost like the green whistle/ Weed.

Ratchet ends up doing alot of study on the human body and realises just how fucked up little monsters we are. We literally need oxygen to survive but he we have to much pure oxygen it will kill us. Water, we need a certain amount of it, if we don't have enough we will get dehydrated and die, if we have to much we will get water poisoning, intoxication, or a disruption of brain function. This happens when there's too much water in our cells, such as the brain and blood cells, causing them to swell. When the cells in the brain swell, they cause pressure in the brain, resulting in death. The issue is that it can become an addiction to drinking too much water for the effect it has on the body. Same with nearly everything we consume, it can kill us, but we need a lot of it in moderation.

Human: "I just need some basic pain killers and a nap"

Bot: "No, you need full surgery, sedations, and 3 weeks of recovery!"

Human: "nah she'll be fine!"

Bot: "Absolutely Not, bed now before I cuff you"

____________

Following that imagine a first contact AU where Cybertronians and humans are just slowly getting to know how the other works and next thing a human is kneeling over in horrific pain and it send the bots all into panic mode trying to help them, wondering what's happening and thinking they are dying. And the human after about ten minutes some pain killers still looking rather pale and unhealthy just go. "Sorry about that fuck I hate, Cramps/palpitations/ phantom pains/ and such" and the bots are just looking at them horrified like.

Bot: NOT NORMAL!!!"

Human: what you talking about?

Bot: everything that just happened you literally just short circuited!

Human: nah that's causal wait till you see the really funky shit.

______________

Human pet AU

Cybertronian's keeping humans as pets is like humans keeping hamsters. Humans are some of the most homicidal, suicidal and just deranged creatures that Cybertronian's could keep as pets. It's gotten to the point that they are a luxury/ exotic pet because if you do not feed them the right stuff, give them the right amount of light and socialising, and they will just die. There are so many Cybertronian's who take their human into clinics worried as and its just the human being a little bustard because they didn't get the treat they wanted 2 weeks ago and are still holding that grudge. Not to mention, we are prone to causing as much trouble and issue. We are like cats.

But we are also very easily sick and primus forbid a human gets sick because to a bot they think it's a death sentence for their sweet little spitfire of a human who they have had now for ages. And the human looks ready to die, and the next day, they are up and about like nothing ever happened.

Human: if you don't feed me the meals I want I'm going to pretend to die. If you do feed me what I want I might actually die because I shouldn't be eating it.

Panicked bot: "MY HUMAN HAS GOTTEN SICK. HELP!?!"

Human: totally worth it.

_________

In conclusion, the cybertronians are rather wary/ concerned about how resilient humans really are.

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Taglist

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[moonreader1010]

Pac- how you'll meet your future spouse and some details about them.

Note- minors dni as this reading is very suggestive.

(the pictures used do not belong to me. All rights go to the original owner.)

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3^

Pile 1: "I'm thinking 'bout you (Ooh no, no, no)

I've been thinking 'bout you (You know, know, know)

I've been thinking 'bout you

Do you think about me still? Do ya, do ya?"

So much water and earth energy omg. You might meet your future spouse in the months of November, July or February. Okay so You might meet your future spouse in a setting that combines both professional and personal growth. Like it will be a setting that combines these two worlds. Office party or something yk. Also I'm really getting that your future spouse will be someone who is really emotionally intuitive and sensitive, could be younger or just youthful in spirit. Despite this young energy they will be very confident, authoritative, and passionate. So yeah you fs might catwalk into your life through a work or financial environment. I also feel that there will be prominent themes of diligence and effort when you meet them. And omggggg your family is gonna LOVE your future spouse. Lol. Your relationship with your future spouse will be very joyful and yk they will feel so fulfilled when they get into a relationship with you. They'll definitely care for you. Very very caring. Alsoooooo this relationship will definitely DEFINITELY align with your ideals and your standards. However, past heartaches or challenges may need to be addressed. Don't let them come between your relationship with your future spouse and listen listennnn it's essential to take time for rest and introspection to heal and prepare for this significant connection because it will be soooooo amazing for you.

Additionally you may encounter this person during a period of personal growth and self-improvement, possibly when you are focused on building your career or finances(get that money bby). They will also be someone who balances practicality with a deep emotional connection. You get me? Like they might seem like someone who is solely focused on practical things but boom suddenly they will surprise you with their emotional maturity. And girllllllll that person is gonna support your aspirations!!!!!!!! Also, they will definitely share your visions. You two will have very similar goals.

Additional- late night drives, play fight, water bodies

Song for you- thinkin about you by Frank Ocean

Pile 2: "They say I'm too young to love you

They say I'm too dumb to see

They judge me like a picture book

By the colors, like they forgot to read

I think we're like fire and water

I think we're like the wind and sea

You're burnin' up, I'm coolin' down

You're up, I'm down"

Okay so the cards kept going EVERYWHERE! Anyway, Meeting your future spouse could be a chaotic journey. It will require you to be courageous and putting on the big boy/girl pants. Your connection is so soooo intense and to understand it you'll require great emotional depth. Andddddddd your fs is soooo Charming? Like for what? Lol. Very charming. Very romantic and dudeeeeee the passion in your relationship will be just chef's kiss. Mwah fr. And passionate in many ways(👀 if you know what I mean). Literally everything your spouse does reflects soooo sooooo much passion. They could very much be physically strong yk. Great physical strength for sure. and wow such a dynamic presence. They could be a water sign or have their moon in 8th house. They will definitely have a really strong sense of intuition so yeah nobody can deceive them. Your future spouse is a legit human lie director. Haha. And your future spouse has this aura around them. Like this air of mystery and they will be so wise!!!!. Andddddddd Your relationship will be marked by a balance of power and mutual respect. Your future spouse will respect you so muchhhh. Such a gentleman. I'm sooooo sure that BOTH of you possess high charismatic energy. Awwwwww. Your connection will be so nurturing, abundant, and full of hope and inspiration. You'll be their muse 😤

Omg girl? you may encounter your future spouse during a time of inner reflection(start journaling bby) or when faced with a difficult decision.and your future spouse will be the one that'll help you find some clarity about that situation. They'll complete you. awwwwww. A very spiritual connection. Heavy themes of inspiration. You two will inspire eachother so much.

Additional- art, Greek, body paint, suits

Song for you - Brooklyn baby by Lana del rey

Pile 3:"Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said, "Be true", I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

In the end, it's him and I, him and I"

Very veryyyy clear and straightforward energy. Some of you might meet your future spouse soon or have already met them (👀). And you guys will be sooo quick to know that they are the one. Some of you will get married quickly too. You guys will be so eager to go on your honeymoon lol. Like chill guys. Won't be able to keep your hands off each other. Meeting your future spouse will be an exciting and stimulating (what could that mean👀)experience. And girl your person will be sharp-witted. Like they will have a comeback for EVERYTHING. So sassy omg. But they will also be curious. Like they would be continuously learning something new and will be soooo soooo ready to know everything about you. Obsessed with you. You guys will try a lot of things together (👀). you guys will celebrate a lottttt. Idk why but so sooo many celebrations are there in your relationship. One of you will have an amazing social life. Bby, you may meet your future spouse through social gatherings or community events(interesting). They will be soooooo smart and intellectual. You will LOVE having a conversation with them. Not at all boring. They will make your life more ..... adventurous. One of you(i think you) worries sooooo much and worries all. The. Time. And this other person in the relationship (i think your spouse) will help you deal with it and overcome it.

Additional- bodyguard au, cupcakes, books, anxiety.

Song for you - him&i by halsey and G-Easy

[hwallazia]

ANT!FRAGILE – 최산

synopsis . in which you pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.

pairing . choi san & fem!reader

genre . smut (mdni!) fluff at the end, comfort, established relationship, idol!au, and a poor attempt of comedy.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 3,1k

DISCLAIMER! unprotected sex (wrap before tap!), bath sex, slight degradation? (reader’s referred as “dumb girl” once), dirty talk, softdom!san, sub!reader, dacryphilia?, slight overstimulation, hickeys, size difference, bulge kink, cow girl position, petnames (princess, love, darling & more), teasing, squirt, suggestive language (yn tells wooyoung to kill himself, jokingly! they’re two very friendly friends ;)), coachella san (as a warning itself, yes).

NIC’S NOTES this took way too long for no reason at all (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠) but here it is! my brain rot of coachella san (ofc with teeth rotting fluff at the end bc i’m the one writing it) also, lowercase is intentional! (again, too lazy to write it properly;;)

you should’ve seen it coming after you found out that your boyfriend, san, would be performing at an event as important as coachella. not that you were complaining though.

you knew how much your boyfriend loves attention, how much it turned him on to hear the fans scream for him, and how the cameras adjust their lens to zoom in on his face or his toned muscles from dancing and moving from side to side. there were constant conversations in which san would ask you “should i wear this?”, “if i unbutton a couple of buttons will i get a reaction from atiny?” of course, you’d tell him dismissively that no matter what he does, he’d always get a reaction from everyone, from you especially.

but taking off his shirt in the middle of a concert? really?

you had already seen him without clothes on the upper part of his body, of course, —and also without clothes down there, but let’s omit details—. the thing here’s that you knew how cautious he was with his clothing, always trying to cover what was most important. but this surprised you, and immensely.

it is, in fact, a sight for sore eyes. but a certain level of jealousy invaded your body; you liked to think that you were the only one with the privilege of seeing his well-worked body. but now millions of people and locals would have photos and videos of your shirtless boyfriend on stage. you definitely couldn’t accept it, even though the entire internet already knows exactly what ateez’s choi san looks like underneath the expensive fabric that covers him at concerts.

you were fully aware that this was his job, and that he was paid for it, but did it really have to be him? why not any other member? maybe seonghwa? or mingi! what about him? he also has a pretty active and... desperate fanbase. it was obvious that more than one fan would pay to get, at least, a glimpse of his abs. so, with so many options, why was your boyfriend the exposed person?

but of course you couldn’t show up in his dressing room with a jealous expression clearly decorating your face, you had to act like the sweet and tender girlfriend you were and put jealousy aside for a moment. your boyfriend had just finished performing on a dream stage for any artist, you couldn’t ruin his night because of a little scene.

you weren’t a jealous or toxic lover; you were a conservative one. you liked knowing that you were special to san and you expected exclusivity from him; consequently, he would receive the same treatment. but you should’ve expected it when you started dating choi san. he’s an idol and that's his job: to cause, in any way, the attention of the fans which, consequently, would keep them afloat or flying through the charts.

but, that was an indelible feature of yours. therefore, in some way, you would make it noticeable.

you hit your knuckles a few times, with moderate intensity, against the modern metallic door decorated by a gold star that highlighted your boyfriend’s band name. you watched as the handle turned slightly and opened the door wide, managing to discover wooyoung with a foaming glass of champagne that found its rest in the palm of her hand. behind his figure, you could see mingi sitting on a noticeably comfortable leather couch next to yunho, both of them clinking their glasses together with a clink; yeosang and seonghwa taking a selfie in the mirror and jongho and hongjoong talking animatedly, perhaps about the upcoming scenarios you thought.

“what the hell are you doing here?” wooyoung said, looking at you confusingly. you narrowed your eyes slightly at his quick lack of courtesy.

“good night to you too, wooyoung. you were incredible out there.” you replied sarcastically, hoping he would finally greet you properly.

“oh thank you so much. but seriously, what are you doing here?” he asked once again.

“what do you mean what am i doing here? i came to congratulate y’all for the show because you totally killed it. all the atiny around me went absolutely feral because of you guys.” you praised, and wooyoung grinned nicely. jongho and hongjoong came up behind him, intrusively joining the conversation.

“well thank you very much, yn.” jongho responded and you gave him your purest smile, truly meaning your words.

“but i also came here to congratulate my boyfriend personally?” you interrogated since his figure wasn’t appearing in your visual field.

“that’s why i was asking! damn, you really don’t listen." wooyoung sentenced, his gaze being comparable to that of a mother scolding her daughter. “as soon as the concert was over, he changed and went to the hotel to see you. he thought you’d be there.”

“but i don’t have a ride home, and my phone died” you explained, doe-eyed as you waited for wooyoung, or any of the boys, to take the hint and quickly take you to the hotel to your boyfriend.

“you could just ask for it, you know?” wooyoung tsked, but finally surrendered to your big, brown eyes with a sigh. “give me two seconds to look for the car keys. i’ll take you there.”

and that’s what he did as fast as lighting since he knew they’d only have that night all for themselves before flying back out to korea. the next day would be full of promotion of their songs to the locals and their stage in coachella, so san wouldn’t be able to even spend a bit of his day with you.��

during the ride to the hotel, wooyoung spoke, “hey just don’t tire him out since we have quite the amount of work to do tomorrow.”

“you know, you could say something like ‘have a nice time together’, ‘take care of him’, ‘call me if you need anything-” before you could continue, he interrupted you briskly. 

“oh hell no. the both of you are responsible adults who know how to take care of themselves without someone else’s help so don’t even try to bother me tonight because i’m exhausted as shit.” he confessed, hands adjusting their position on the steering wheel when cornering.

“oh so now you’re saying i’m a burden?” you asked ironically, knowing wooyoung would catch it was only a joke.

“oh you do know how to think!” he smiled looking away from the road for a bit to lock gazes with you. wrinkles decorated the corner of your eyes as you closed them a little.

“go kill yourself.” you huffed.

“shut up, you love me,” his puckering lips sent a flying kiss to you. he stopped his words briefly, “actually you kind of have to, since i’m taking you with your beloved boyfriend.”

“touché” you agreed. 

the ride to the hotel was quick and calm since you were talking and joking animatedly with wooyoung. and when you least expected it, the car stopped moving. consequently, you turned to look out through your window, yellow lights, and gold decorations hurting your eyes with how beaming they looked, even when it was one in the morning.

“here we are.” wooyoung turned to look at you, his sincere eyes transmitting warmth, “remember what i told you-”

“yeah, i got it mom,” you answered, rolling your eyes vexingly. the man gave you an annoying gaze, so you replied, “what? you’re acting as if you were my mother! chill out, for fuck’s sake. as you said, both of us are responsible adults who know how to take care of ourselves.” you used his own words as a weapon to defend yourself against his exaggerated concern.

“whatever. just go,” he unlocked the car’s door so you could get out of the car once you finished your little conversation. “he’s been a pain in the ass lately because he hasn’t had time to see you.”

“imma get going then,” your hand approached the car door handle and finally opened it and got out of the vehicle. “thank you, woo. i owe you one.”

“you owe me way too many to count ’em” wooyoung wheezed. “but yeah, we’ll add it to the list.” he gave you one final smile, which you reciprocated sweetly.

you finally closed the door and watched wooyoung make his way back to where coachella was taking place, he’d probably go to enjoy the rest of the night’s stages with his members. you genuinely wished for him to do well and arrive with the boys safely, but now you had something more important to do: pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.

after you saw wooyoung getting lost on the dark LA highway, you turned around and ran towards the hotel to get into the elevator and quickly dial the floor of your boyfriend’s room.

once there, before your brain could think about it, your legs moved on their own and guided you recklessly toward the door. you hit your knuckles against it a few times, but there was no response.

“sannie? it’s yn. are you there?” you mutter softly against the door frame. another moment of silence came in response.

remembering your boyfriend had given you the key card, you pulled it out of your coat and faced it against the handle. after a soft peep sounded, you opened the door. just to be greeted with a dim-lighted room.

you wandered around the room, looking carefully at the floor so as not to bump your feet against any furniture or step on any item of clothing that, perhaps in a hurry, had been forgotten on the carpeted floor. you kept repeating your boyfriend’s name until the silence stunned you. the dazzling city lights illuminating what the poor little lamp that rested on the nightstand could not illuminate.

suddenly everything went silent. until you heard, in the back of your head, a faded tune. you quickly recognized the melody and started humming the song, the lyrics of the weeknd’s starboy being the only thing you could think about.

once again, you knocked a few times on the door, this time receiving a response from the other side. a dull “who is it?” was heard. “it’s me, love. yn.” you replied.

“oh, babe! come in!” he said happily, you could imagine the adorable smile drawn on his lips.

you turned the handle gently. and lord, didn’t the scenery you were greeted with turned you on.

your boyfriend’s toned body resting on the bathtub, lavender-scented bubbles covering most of it, his nipples being exposed to the fresh bathroom air that would soon turn into a heavier one, and his arms resting on each side of the tub. a serene, yet excited, expression decorating your boyfriend’s gaze.

“hi, beautiful,” he welcomed you. his eyes becoming crescent moons due to the effect of his beaming smile.

“there they are, those beautiful eyes i love so much,” you mumbled, walking right next to him to caress his left cheek soothingly. “how’re you feeling, champ?”

“alive as fuck,” both of you giggled at his response, your loving gaze locking with his for a moment of comfortable silence. suddenly you felt his hand fondling yours.

“mind joining me here?” his sharp eyes turning darker than they already were as they looked at you. fortunately for your boyfriend, you were willing to give him the moon and the stars that night.

you still can’t explain how you ended up on top of san, the water covering up to your navels, while he moved his thumb masterfully over your clit and his fingers repeatedly entered your cunt. his phalanges stretched you deliciously, causing several moans and moans from you.

“is that the spot, sweetheart? you're shaking so much.” his voice was hoarse and deep as the ocean, causing dizziness to affect your common sense.

“y-yes, don’t stop, please- ahh! ngh...” you could barely answer.

“sorry, love.” he announced before stopping his movements, drawing a annoyed, pathetic whine from your swollen lips. before you could insult him, he spoke first. “’wanna feel your tight cunt cumming around me, pretty.” during his brief pause, a pitiful cry from you was heard. “will you let me?”

“yes!” you answered desperately, “y...yes, i’m all yours, sannie. use me.”

san let out deep groan, which resonated inside your ears and made your heart jump out of your ribcage for a second. you rapidly adjusted yourself so you could reach the height of his crotch and massage his veiny, prominent erection, then align it to your entrance.

“go down slowly, don’t want my pretty girl to break.” he expressed, his soft, low voice driving you insane. still, you looked at him with cocked eyebrows.

“break? hah. surely, coachella drove your ego up to the clouds.” your eyes stabbing daggers into his. his hands found a home on your hips, slightly drawing them down to insert his cock inside you. your hand landing on his bare chest stopping his every move.

“nah. it’s just that you’re kind of fragile after all.”

you knew he was messing with you, provoking you. if there was one thing he always reminded you of, it was how strong, determined, and passionate you were, and it was one of the many features that made him fall deeply in love with you.

“let’s see who’s the fragile one here” you went down without warning on his cock, surprisingly touching your cervix all at once. a moan was snatched from both of you. your shaking body began to move carefully up and down him.

“f-fuck, yn- mm,” you heard a strangled moan from your lover, his lower lip was caught in between his teeth.

“f-fragile? that’s y...your- ah! your shit ass cock.” you manage to respond, notoriously provoking him.

“i don’t think it’s a shit ass cock, beautiful- ngh.” he panted, “just look how full you are.” he held your hand delicately despite the momentary brutality and placed it over your belly, a small lump formed there, “full of me, and my shit ass cock.” san breathed, kissing your collarbone, leaving cute lovebites in it. “you cry and beg for it every single night, hun. what does that have to say about you, hm?” a pitiful whine left your lips, demonstrating san that you were truly incapable of formulating coherent words. you were just too fucked out.

“well, lemme tell you,” he continued. “you’re just a dumb girl who needs to be fucked by a big fucking cock, otherwise, you don’t stop whining.” he said profoundly, his voice stimulating all your senses at once as he absolutely ravished you. “isn’t that right, princess?”

“i- ah! sannie, pleeease.” you blubbered, your eyes shedding the most precious tears.

“i asked you a question, darling. and i expect you to answer.” he sentenced sternly, grabbing your jaw and mushing your cheeks together. a pout was, therefore, formed on your lips.

“yes! yesyesyes, you’re right. i just need and think about being fucked by your big fucking cock-” you acknowledged, immersed and lost in the feeling, feeling like he was fucking you just like the first time.

“you’re such a cutie when you whine for me.” he chuckled while you, on the other hand, couldn’t hold back your screams anymore. his eyes stuck to your bouncing breasts, and your parted lips.

“what happened, princess? is it too much?” he cooed at you, looking at you adoringly, his eyes beaming at the sight of you.

“n-no,” you tried with all your might not to stumble over your words, but it was almost impossible since your thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of your boyfriend's cock into your tight cunt.

“no? let’s see if it is now,”

your bastard boyfriend directed his hand toward your vagina, his ring finger and middle finger deliciously touched your clit. san watched as you exploded inside, his cock was bringing you closer to an abysmal orgasm that you doubted you could withstand, but you were a masochist, and despite all of this, you continued to go up and down on his cock sloppily.

“san! i’m s-so close- fuck!” your frowned eyebrows, reddened cheeks, swollen lips, and arched back made san float, he couldn’t worship you more than he already did at that moment. he was internally so grateful that you were his. only his to kiss, to hug, to fuck, and to adore.

you had had many guys behind you in the past, and they all promised the same thing: ‘i promise you the moon and the stars’, but absolutely none of them reached the level that choi san reached, who promised and delivered to make you see the stars, the moon and– fuck, he made you see the entire milky way every time you were with him.

“go on, babe. let it out for me, i got you,” he hid his face in the crook of your neck when you slowed down bouncing, and then he lifted it up. his lips brushed your neck, a position which he took advantage of to lick and suck on the side of it, adorning it with some nice and new hickeys next to the ones he did some moments ago.

san did everything he could to give you a good orgasm, a strong one, but pleasant. he loved seeing your expression as you had reached the peak of pleasure, a squirt erupted between your bodies, causing strangled moans to come from both mouths. your walls became tighter, squeezing out every drop of cum held in san’s hard cock. you felt how a strip of that viscous, white essence warmed your insides even more. the feeling even being comfortable in some kind of way.

“see? i didn’t break, idiot. hah,” you huffed out a sigh, looking at that beautiful face that you would never get tired of.

“mhm, you’re always so strong and beautiful. aren’t you, my love?” he reacted breathlessly as he stroked your cheek, as if it were the finest diamond.

“always, and only for you,” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at him foolishly in love.

you turned and felt stupid every time you were around this man, but what could you say? you weren’t complaining at all.

that man was capable of loving you in all your facets, in all your states and moments.

you were also grateful that choi san was yours, and solely yours.

“well, big boy,” you started, settling into his chest with him still inside you, keeping you warm, “i’m very proud of you and your achievements, love. you really brought home the trophy.”

“actually, you came here all by yourself.” he flirted, a cocky smile causing a giggle to ring inside your ribcage. “hm. thank you, princess. but the actual trophy is you and will always be you.”

you hid your face with your hands, splashing a little water unintentionally, “don’t start being all mushy, you softie. i’m gonna cry otherwise,”

he laughed, his voice causing your skin to vibrate lightly. “okay okay. wanna finally wash up?”

“can we just... stay like this? just for a bit,” you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth your boyfriend provided you.

“of course, princess. whatever you want,” he held you in his arms safely, making you sleepy. two minutes of silence filled with tranquility and love passed, until san started talking, “remember you’re always my trophy.” he muttered lowly with his honey-dripping voice.

“babe,”

“hm?”

“shut up.”

| masterlist

[dark-fics-4-you]

Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???

How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting

Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.

The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.

He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”

At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.

“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”

“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.

Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.

His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.

Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you

When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.

Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”

That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.

You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.

Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.

After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.

Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.

You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.

Except for the one time you really needed to.

After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.

As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.

“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.

You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”

His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”

You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.

“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.

When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.

“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”

You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”

His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.

“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”

Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.

“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.

Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.

His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.

You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.

“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.

You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.

Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.

He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.

You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.

His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.

“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”

He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.

“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.

The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.

He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.

When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.

“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”

That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.

He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.

Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.

You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.

Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”

‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.

The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.

A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.

If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.

Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.

‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’

You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.

To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.

You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.

Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.

“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.

You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.

Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”

If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.

Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.

You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.

“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.

“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Slyus react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

You were quick with your exist, Sylus had to give you that as the moment he looked up from the letter, only to see that you were long gone.

Naturally he would’ve caught you by the wrist and kept you close until after he had read the letter. However since that wasn’t how the events played out, Sylus walked back to his room to read the letter, fully intending to ask you the next time he sees you what this was all about, all the while lightly scolding you for running away.

He even made Mephisto leave the room for full privacy, the crow was offended by this not going to lie and instead made himself comfortable on the nearest perch he could find.

Sylus wasn’t dumb, your expression gave it all away what type of letter this was and he couldn’t help but smirk when he read your sweet words, chuckling as he felt your emotions through every sentence he read and how many words you had scribbled out in your attempt of making a confession to him.

While he would’ve preferred to have you confess to him in person, he couldn’t hold it against you that you felt overwhelmed and too afraid to do so and speak your heart to him, but that was okay when you had written your heart to him on a piece of paper instead that made him smile as warmth spread throughout his chest.

You were so cute when you poured your heart out into the letter and Sylus knew he would be keeping this as his own personal memento of the time where your relationship changed. Needless to say after reading the letter you got a greeting by Sylus later that same evening as he made himself comfortable in your apartment, eager to start your relationship as soon as he could by making you a dinner for two.

He casts his gaze down at the letter you hastily shoved into his hand, giving him no room to ask what the contents of the letter was before bolting off down the hallway with a flustered expression upon your face.

Zayne tilts his head to the side as he then takes the letter into his office, not wanting anyone to peer over his shoulder and read the words that you had specifically wrote for him and him alone.

He knew of your nervousness and tendency to tell him personal things through the likes of cute letters, but this was a completely different level of that as he got an insight to your thoughts and feelings towards him that you couldn’t put into words. It was highly detailed with moments where you realised that you like Zayne more then ‘just a friend’

He found it sweet and warming as he too would reminisce on the moments that you bring up and suddenly everything becomes clearer for Zayne. The moments where it seemed like you were more sheepish and unable to meet his eyes, all of it made all the more sense to him now as you gave clarification to why you acted those ways back then.

You adored him and yet you couldn’t find a more fitting way to tell him than a letter that resides within his hands.

It felt good for Zayne to know that his feelings wasn’t one sided and that you felt similar to him. It was all he could ever wish for even though he tried not to fall for you, only to find it increasingly difficult when you were practically a big part of his day to day life, and he couldn’t help but feel as though a weight had been taken off of his chest knowing that he didn’t have to hold back his feeling anymore and finally get to do what he always wanted.

He has a reservation booked at a fancy restaurant to you both, but is more than willing to cancel it to just walk through the city with you should that be more your speed, or maybe even some quality time at home with some take out. Zayne didn’t want you to become overwhelmed and would much preferable to have you at your most comfortable when you’re both talking about your future relationship.

[reiderwriter]

Hello there baby, are your parents bakers? Cause you're a cutie pie lol sorry couldn't resist the urge to flirt with my favorite writer💕How have you been? How was your day? I wish you a wonderful day and a lovely night💕

It's my first time here sending an ask but lately I've been thinking about shy!Spencer x flirty!reader, I just think is such a cute couple.

So if you're taking requests, I was thinking about early seasons Spencer completely falling for the reader and the way she's so flirty but sweet and kind, the way he'd be blushing hard at anything she says and how he'd like the way she's always touching him cause he felt cherised and desired.

It could be fluff or smut or both cause I can picture them going slow with the relationship but Spencer being eager to please her and show how much he loves everything about her.

You said about choosing a emoji, so can I be the 🐇anon?

A/N: Thanks for the request! Shy Spencer is the best because he's so dumb and silly and doesn't realize when people are attracted to him. I've said it before, but he's basically every nerdy main character in 00s romcoms that are "unattractive" because they wear glasses. I hope you enjoy the fic~♡

Warnings: mentions of case details, slight spoilers for upto s5

With a degree in law and a deep-rooted hatred of businessmen, you'd certainly found your calling in one of the FBI White Collar divisions. Putting away the sleazy bastards was easily one of the biggest perks of the job, but every coin had a second side, and yours was you actually had to interact with the cretins before you could take them down. 

You'd dealt with bribes, dinner invites, and sexual propositions more than a time or two, and had to remind yourself that kicking anyone of them clean in the balls was most likely a firing offense, if not legally off the table. 

The man in the case you were currently working - possibly Bill Hodges, possibly Daniel Brady, possibly so many more men - had been a typical white collar freak until he'd moved on to murder. And when you'd been so close to nailing his ass for fraud, too. 

You'd had no choice but to call in whatever unit it was that actually got to put bullets in the bastards, sure that you were going to be strong-armed out of months of work for the glory of taking down a spree killer. 

Instead, you got Spencer Reid, delivered freshly to your desk like a lamb to slaughter. 

“Sorry, you're the agent from the BAU?” You asked, raking your eyes across his body, smiling at his obvious discomfort with the attention. 

“Yes, Doctor Reid. I'm here for more information on the Hodges files.” 

You dusted your skirt off as you stood, moving around the desk to grab the file. You held it out to him but pulled it back when he reached for it.

“I'm sorry, you're really in the BAU?” An embarrassed look fell across his face, and you instantly felt shitty. 

“Do you want to see my credentials?” 

“No, I'm sorry, it's just - I wasn't expecting someone so…pretty?” 

The embarrassed look deepened to a flush, and you brightened at the sight. You weren't lying. He really was pretty, and you hoped your comment hadn't come off as patronizing. 

“You're adorable. Here's the file, I’ll be at your team briefing in half an hour. Spencer, right?” 

He nodded, finally waking up and taking the files as you pushed it against his chest, using the movement to step slightly closer. 

“I'll see you later then,” you trailed your look down, getting a good look at all of him before meeting his eyes again. “Save me a seat?” 

“I should… I'll, uh, go now. Thanks for the-” he stammered, pointing to the file, backing out of your space slowly, like an animal trying not to show its back to a predator. 

Unlike the long line of scumbags filling the halls and case files of your floor, Spencer was without bravado or ego. His lack of both meant that you were interested. You were very interested. 

Half an hour later, you practically sprinted to the 6th floor, bouncing up the stairs to the office where you'd take your meeting like a giddy school girl. 

“Hello, sorry, I'm not late, am I?” You asked, quietly opening the door and letting yourself in. 

“Agent Y/N, no, perfect timing, Penelope was just about to brief us on your case,” Hotch said, rising and giving your hand a firm shake. He looked around to find a seat to usher you into, but you quickly dropped yourself into the seat right beside Spencer Reid, grin deepening as he flushed and offered you an awkward yet endearing smile. 

Unconsciously, you shifted closer, shooting him your own smile before the meeting officially began, and you were forced to keep a straight, serious face. 

The entire case progressed in much the same way, with you doing everything you could to fluster Spencer Reid and him doing everything in his power to convince himself you were being friendly. 

“Spencer, do you have a phone number?” You asked after slipping out of the meeting, trailing him back to his desk. 

“Yeah, we have to keep connected for cases, so I have a phone.” 

“Great. Your number - what is it?” 

He rattled off the digital as you scribbled them down on a notepad. 

“And Hotch's number is-” 

“Oh, I won't need that. Thanks, Spencer.” You said waving as you left to slink back to your desk. You could hear him calling out behind you, confused. 

“Y/N… Y/N, we split up on cases often, if there's an incident and you need to contact us it's better to have all of the team members numbers,” he panted, jogging to catch up with your focused pace. 

“If I need to contact you, I'll take myself to Agent Garcia’s office and use her direct line,” you said, finally stopping yourself at the elevator and pressing the button. 

He caught up, and stopped abruptly next to you. 

“Oh… oh, yeah that's… that's efficient.” 

You stepped onto the elevator when it arrived, leaving Spencer hesitating whether or not to climb in himself, desperately wondering why you'd ask for his number then. 

“Goodbye, Doctor Reid,” you said, pressing the door close button and blowing him a kiss just before the doors blocked you from sight. 

To tell the truth, you'd had a lot of fun flirting with Spencer on the phone from Penelope’s office during the case. The woman was an inspiration, even if her flirting had a completely different purpose and meaning than your own. Her friendship with Derek Morgan was admirable, but you didn't want to be friends with Spencer Reid. 

“Hello, handsome, what can I do for you today?” You asked, picking up the phone and basking in the stammers that answered you down the line. 

“D-Do you need me to get Morgan for you?” He said, his voice treading lightly. 

“Unless Derek Morgan has, overnight, managed to turn into a 6’1 Doctor with a penchant for cardigans and leather satchels and an IQ of 187, then I am absolutely not looking for him. I have case details.” 

He brushed past your comment, but he kept the slight stammer through the conversation, right until you signed off. 

“Until next time, sexy.”

“Um, yeah… thanks…beautiful?” he signed off, and you guffawed in laughter even as Penelope stared wide-eyed in your direction, not believing her ears. 

“Please forgive our little test tube genius. We forgot to add flirting skills to his childhood curriculum, and now, alas, the poor thing doesn't know a damn thing.” 

He'd called back a few hours later, and you'd purred more compliments down the line, but this time with the team surrounding him as they closed in on your unsub. 

“Hello, this is beautiful speaking. How may I help you?” You giggled down the line, picking up the call after only a single ring. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, catching his breath awkwardly as he struggled to remember why it was you were needed. 

“So… um, like… Hotch has a question about the files you sent earlier. He needs Penelope to… do something as well.” 

You could almost see the awkward nod through the phone. 

“Great. Pass me over to Hotch, then, hot stuff.” 

You heard the tell-tale sound of Derek Morgan’s cackle in the background, and you couldn't help but let another giggle slip out. You were a gonner, and, hopefully, so was he. 

The case wrapped quickly after that, spree killing being a quick game of cat and mouse out of necessity. You weren't happy with three bodies, but it sure as hell was preferable to more. 

You greeted the BAU team at the jet hanger as they returned, reclaiming your fraud files for paperwork and using that simple chore as a reason to get close to Spencer again. 

“Good work out there, Doctor Reid.” 

“What, he's not hot stuff anymore now he's in front of you?” Emily Prentiss laughed, throwing her go bag onto her shoulder and trailing behind where you'd started strolling alongside Spencer. 

“Oh, he's still hot stuff. He's just hot stuff with three PhDs that just stopped a spree killer,” you said, sighing dreamily. “How do you do it?” 

“We were all there too, you know,” the other woman chuckled as you made it inside the building and to the elevator. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, taking a second to reach out and straighten out Spencer's skewed tie, smoothing his jacket and generally just touching him in whatever way you could, respectfully. 

You didn't even bother to finish your sentence, just leaning closer to his ears and whispering directly into them. 

“You're very cute when you're flustered, Doctor Reid.” 

You stepped away for a second while the rest of his team teased him, stepping to the back of the elevator to ascend to your floor while the others departed on theirs. 

They filed out one by one and you sent them off with a smile and a wave, signing in defeat as you realized there was no longer a reason for you to interact with the good doctor ever again. 

If you weren't so stupidly aware of him, you'd almost have missed the fact that Spencer didn't leave the elevator when his teammates did. He instead turned to you and, with the brightest red you'd seen on his face to date, stammered out half a sentence. 

“I.. Y/N, I was just… curious, if you, by any chance…” 

Your eyes widened in joy as you anticipated his question, silently begging him just to spit it out. 

“I was wondering, i-if you had… a boyfriend?” By the end of his sentence, even he seemed unsure of whether that was a question he should really be asking. 

You'd been throwing heart eyes at him for says, and he was asking if you were in a committed relationship. 

“No,” you said slightly breathily, as if your body were trying to expel all the anticipation it had stupidly built up. “No, I don't have a boyfriend, Spencer.”

“Great okay,” he smiled, a boyish grin if you'd ever seen one, before backtracking quickly.

“Well not great for you, great for me. Not that you can't be happy alone, I don't know how you feel about…romantic entanglements and I-I-I’m not saying that your life isn't,” he searched for the words with his hands, as of he could grasp them as a life line while he was sinking fast. “-Great without a boyfriend or anything like that, I'm just - really - pleased that position is currently… vacant?” 

“Spencer?” You said, feeling like a cat who got the cream as a smile twitched at your lips, pulling the corners up as you listened to him ramble. 

“Yes?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend  or are you asking for a friend?” 

You'd meant the words as a joke  but he stood contemplating for a second. You pushed a hand against your mouth to suppress the childish squeal from popping out. 

“It would be a bit presumptuous to shoot straight for boyfriend, right? How about date ....partner?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from closing in on him then, practically cornering him in the elevator as the floors passed you by.

“Presumptuous would be thinking I could have a boyfriend when I've been begging you to stick your tongue down my throat with my eyes for the last half hour. I thought they taught you body language at the BAU?” 

“They teach us how to catch criminals, not how to see when someone is giving us…fuck me eyes, Y/N.” The curse left you a little dizzy - this was it, this was what you'd been trying to do all week, to get under his skin and get him to let his guard down so you could capture him. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm a little scandalized! I didn't know you swore. What a dirty mouth you have.” You reached up with both hands, letting your thumb on his lips before pretending to wipe something away at the corner of his mouth. You were in the perfect position to notice his throat bob as he swallowed.

The elevator pinged at your floor, and you left him behind you with one last swipe of your fingers at his chin. You weren't expecting him to follow, but he did.

“Y/N…please, Y/N…. Can we just…?” You relished the awkwardness in his voice as he trailed you again, a satisfied smile settling onto your face. 

You just kept walking. Or you did until you felt a large hand wrap around your wrist and pull you sideways into the nearest storage cupboard. 

You gasped as he pinned you to the wall, close not, but his eyes still hesitant on what to do next. 

“Spen-” He cut you off with his lips on yours, silencing you before you could get the final word. His lips were clumsy at first, but you felt hot under his touch  arching yourself up into him. His tongue pushed into your mouth as he found his stride, your hands tangling in his hair as you held on for dear life.

This was it. This was what you'd been waiting for. 

Reluctantly, he pulled away, both of you gasping for breath to fill your suddenly empty lungs. 

“Was that….what… you wanted?” He panted, resting his head on yours. 

There were no words. It was what you wanted but now you wanted more, needed more. You settled for a quick nod as your tongue flamed, unable to say anything helpful. 

“Good. Great…” he removed his hands from you and scratched at the back of his neck, putting a more respectful distance between the two of you as he cleared his throat. 

“I'll just-” he pointed to the door and started making his way out. You sighed again, watching him walk away down the hall, his hair a mess, his tie askew, and a whole lot of your lipstick staining his lips. 

Surely, he'd notice by the time anyone else did. If not, you'd just effectively staked your claim on Doctor Spencer Reid, and you couldn't be happier about it.  

[seungfl0wer]

Seungmin As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut 🩷

Did I indulge myself with this? Yes. Could have I written a novel? Yes I stopped myself before it got way too long lol.

-🩵

•Definitely shy when yall first start dating, cute little awkward thing he’d be.

•However after getting close he’s never shutting up now.

•Teasing him about how he went from barely talking or making eye contact.

•To this man who openly flirts with you in public.

•A true menace in disguise.

•Playful teasing all the time.

•But it’s a mutual thing.

•You stutter he’s making fun of you.

•He drops something you’re doing it right back.

•It’s honestly one of those things that makes him love you even more.

•Knowing you two can joke around like this, “you’re an asshole but you’re my asshole.”

•Ya’ll adopting a dog at some point too.

•I don’t make the rules.

•You gotta buy a puppy for your puppy right?

•He loves having you lying in his chest so he can sing to you.

•All cuddled up just listing to his beautiful voice.

•He gets so blushy when you compliment his voice too

•Oh god does he. He’ll try and hide his face but you can see it creep to his ears too.

•And if he’s lying on your lap?

•Play with his hair.

•Please. Just do it. This might be his favorite thing in the world.

•Just lying with you, as you play with his fluffy hair.

•This is his happy place, the place where all his stress disappears.

•He’s honestly just so soft for you.

•He’s so attentive and reads you really well.

•He can tell if you’re having a bad day even before telling him.

•He’ll grab your favorite things to make you feel better.

•He remembers a lot of things you’ve said.

•I feel like he’s that kinda guy that just remembers all the little details about what you like or have told him.

•He’ll stare with those big puppy dog eyes full of love.

•He’s honestly very enamored by you.

•How can someone be so perfect?

•Not to mention how can someone so perfect be his?

•Of course he’ll never admit this.

•Not saying he doesn’t do his share of mushy things.

•But he’s seungmin, he has to end the sweet convos with a dumb comment like “cause I’m the perfect boyfriend duh”

•Likes calm dates.

•Like going for coffee or to book stores.

•Will make forts in the living room to watch movies.

•I feel like he’s also one of those people who sends you flowers while you’re at work.

•Likes to write cute notes on them to get you all blushy at work.

•Probably has you in his phone as something like “My Dummy” or something like that.

•In such a loving way though.

•Also probably has the dumbest nicknames for you.

•His nicknames range from something cute like “puppy” to “my little dumpster fire”

•Hand holding always.

•Will pout when you let go “so what if our hands are sweaty”

•Loves PDA when it makes you all blushy.

•He’ll also do the whole “kiss you to shut you up”

•He really enjoys your kisses.

•Also will never admit how much it melts his heart seeing you in his hoodies.

•He’ll snap cute pictures of you in them.

•Has so many ugly photos of you in a locked folder so you can’t delete him.

•So he can “use them for black mail”

•He’s just a kind soul who’s a little rough around the edges but you are too.

•He’ll always make you feel loved and cared for. You’ll also always know what he says is his true feelings.

•He never sugar coats things and is always honest with you.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•This little ass is such a tease.

•Will put his hand on your thigh slowly sliding it up.

•He’ll pull you to his lap, gripping your hips as he pushes himself against you.

•Would definitely send you dirty texts in public to see you get all red.

•Whatever mood he’s in you’re getting a different person in bed.

•Some days he’s more aggressive than others.

•Pushing you up against the wall leaving hickeys all over your neck.

•His hand wrapped around your throat as he teases your sensitiveness.

•When he’s fucking you like this he’s like a dog in heat.

•Multiple rounds until you’re both spent.

•He’d love when you’d scratch his back so deep or bite his shoulder.

•Just a way to show others how good he fucks you.

•He’d definitely be doing the biting back, pulling your hair and spanking you.

•On the other hand he has those lazy days were it’s the most loving sex of your life

•It’s so sensual laying in bed while he’s whispering how much he loves you as he’s thrusting slowly into you.

•Touching your sensitiveness lazily. Just savoring every moment.

•I feel like he’d be a small bit possessive of you.

•So he’d probably say stuff like “You’re all mine” “No one else can make you feel this way”

•He’s more of a talking when it’s rough but the moans and groans he lets out.

•Especially when he’s just lost in you they’re just- beautiful?

•A horn dog honestly.

•Constantly just wants you.

•He’s so damn needy when he’s on tour too.

•Whines about how he needs you cause his hand doesn’t help.

•Aftercare is normally more quiet as he just holds you close kissing you softly.

•Rubbing your body as you both catch your breath.

•A small “you ok?” He’d say and if it’s a yes he just pulls you closer to him.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[heavenlymorals]

Details I've noticed about Arthur Morgan Part 2 cuz you guys seem to be devouring the first one 👍🏼 :

- Him and Dutch share the same sense of humor- dry, sarcastic, and usually at another's expense.

- However, both Arthur and Dutch get really annoyed whenever they direct that same humor to eachother.

-When Dutch and Arthur quick draw, they both turn their bodies to make them a smaller target. They are the only ones in the gang that do this in idle animation.

- Arthur's journal is filled with many half done, not fully rendered drawings. Some pages have one small drawing on them and are then skipped over. Other drawings are just shapes and strokes that represent the schema of an animal or person. It's very realistic to an actual sketchbook and not the Pinterest dream sketchbook.

- Arthur, prior to Hosea's death and Micah overturning his position as Dutch's right hand man, is always there whenever a big decision is being there and is asked for feedback too. Arthur isn't just a member of the VDL gang, he's a leader of it too and people seem to forget that.

- Arthur is very emotionally tough and when I mean very, I mean VERY. He doesn't cry when Sean dies, someone he considered like a little brother. He doesn't cry when Lenny dies, someone he probably saw as a son. He doesn't cry when Hosea dies, someone he saw as a father figure. Of course, they were all in high stress situations that could've stopped an emotional reaction, but even later when he can process things, he doesn't cry.

- There is one time in the game where we see Arthur tear up from emotional pain and that is when he speaks to the nun about his life and what he could've had. Still though, he doesn't cry. It says a lot about him.

- In the final journal entry, though, we see a splotch next to the entry on the empty left page that looks like a tear drop. Take that as you will.

- Arthur's hand writing becomes much more spaced out, messy, and words will be scribbled out more often the sicker he gets. Shakey hands.

- He's very witty and quick with insults, like fascinatingly quick.

- He is pretty intelligent but does allow others to dumb him down like Hosea- as the gang's strongman, this could be so the people they work with would put more emphasis on Arthur's strength so he can be more intimidating.

- The picture that Jack gives Arthur has the male figure wearing a black gambler hat like Arthur and John didn't wear a hat in chapter two. Jack probably saw Arthur as his father figure during that point, not John.

- Does want Jack to learn responsibility ("About time you started to earn your keep" "You got to stick at things, Jack") , but he's very kind, patient, and reasonable considering how young the kid was.

- He doesn't let women carry their luggage if he can do it for them (Mary, the nun)

- He's casually mean or teasing to the younger men and generally polite to the women but he will go off on them in the same way if they anger him enough.

- I wish he was a real person

- I'd like to drink a beer with him

- For I love him ���️

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[callsign-rogueone]

the spider - l.m.

Liam Mairi x reader When you find an uninvited guest in your room, you find yourself knocking on Liam's door to ask him for help. words: 861 🏷: no book spoilers at all, just fluff! mentions of spiders but nothing too detailed (mild arachnophobe here) and Liam handles it for you 🥰 reader is referred to as a girl once, but no pronouns used. this was originally going to be for someone else, but I realized I haven't fed the Liam lovers in a while, so here you go!

“I need you,” you blurt as soon as Liam opens his door.

He blinks, thoroughly confused. “What?”

You take a breath and try again. “There is a ginormous spider in my room and I need you to do something about it. Please.”

“And I was the first person you thought of?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He has a point — you hardly know each other. 

“You’re my neighbor, so yeah, you were,” you answer, your cheeks warming. “Please, Liam?”

He doesn’t think you’ve called him by his first name, ever. To hear you whining it as you blink up at him, pleading… 

“Before it crawls into my bed or something,” you add urgently, shuddering at the thought. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says with a soft laugh. “Lead the way.”

He knows where your room is, knows you’re right across the hall, but he still trails a few paces behind as you make the incredibly short walk over.

You unlock the door and usher him inside, remaining out in the hallway.

He steps forward, taking it in; he’s caught glimpses over your shoulder, but never set foot inside.

It looks… lived in. There’s a pile of boots by the door, tonight’s homework and yesterday’s notes spread over the desk, and he could swear that’s a romance novel on your nightstand — you’re almost finished with it, judging by the location of the scrap of colorful parchment you’re using as a bookmark.

The bed is unmade, blankets pulled back as if you’d just gotten out of it. A small stuffed dragon sits on your pillow, a soft green thing that looks remarkably like Blythe.

And everything about this room smells like you, soft and sweet — he’s never figured out how you manage to do that, to smell so good when everyone in this entire school uses plain unscented soap.

His eyes finally catch on the intruder. It’s an ugly little fucker, but nothing to write home about, just a harmless garden variety.

“You know, it’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it,” he says with a glance over his shoulder.

“I highly doubt that,” you huff. “There is no reason why anything on Amari’s green earth should have that many legs. It’s damn creepy. Can you just smush it, please?”

“That’s a fair point. But it’s too big, if I smush it you’re gonna have spider juice on your wall.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew, okay, fine, um. There’s paper on the desk, and an empty cup.”

“See, you have the tools,” he begins, grabbing the aforementioned supplies, “you just need to take the leap and follow through with it.”

“No, thank you,” you reply from the corner of the room you’ve pressed yourself into, as far away from the thing as you can get. “I’ve faced enough of my fears this year already. This one is gonna have to wait.”

“Understandable,” he acknowledges, trapping it inside the cup and sliding the paper overtop it.

You give him plenty of space as he walks out the door, not leaving the corner until he returns a few minutes later. 

He holds up the paper silently, showing you the front and back, and flips the cup upside down, shaking it to prove that the spider is, in fact, gone.

“Where did you put it?” you ask, still paranoid.

“In the bushes, as far from your room as possible. Clear across the courtyard.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He sets the paper and mug back on the desk where he found them, looking back at you. 

You pull him into a loose hug, wrapping him in that lovely scent — orange blossoms and vanilla, he decides. It’s intoxicating.

“Thank you,“ you say quietly. “For dealing with it, and for not thinking it’s dumb or making fun of me.”

He falters for a moment, but quickly brings a hand up to rest on your back. “I’d never make fun of you. And it’s no problem, really.”

You realize you’ve never so much as shaken his hand before. You pull away quickly, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, that was… forward of me,” you manage.

He laughs softly. “It’s okay. Come get me if any of its friends show up. I’ll give them a talking to.”

You can’t help but smile. “Thank you, Liam.”

There you go again, saying his name and making him feel things.

He offers you a soft smile that nearly brings you to your knees. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”

“Goodnight,” you breathe, shutting the door after he’s back in his own room.

“He thinks I’m pretty,” you whisper aloud, smiling.

“Of course he does,” Blythe says, amused.

You jump. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?” 

She sounds like she’s rolling her eyes. “And what have I told you about broadcasting your every thought to me?”

You sigh, conceding. “I’m still working on that. I’m sorry.”

“All in good time, soft one. All in good time.”

You kick off your boots, flopping down onto your bed with a sigh and picking up your book again, but you’ve lost interest. Knights in shining armor be damned; all you can think about right now is Liam.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Technicalities

Summary: Based on this request! After a complicated friends-with-benefits relationship with Spencer, you confess your true feelings to him in a moment of vulnerability, only for things to fall apart. Both of you struggle with your feelings, leading to silence and regret. When Spencer realizes he can't let you go, he tries to fix things, but is it too late?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x IT fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, fwb, alcohol consumption, being drunk, hangover mention, (un)requited feelings, kind of fake dating/keeping up appearances, both Spencer and reader are dumb, happy ending i promise !!, i imagined somewhere season 4–8 Spencer

Word count: 29.2k

a/n: i'm so glad someone put in this request because i mostly had this story figured out but they saveddd my ass with this prompt so thank you !!! and yes i have only been focusing on this one lmao getting back to my other stories now my

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f) receiving, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), breast play

The BAU bullpen was humming with the usual mid-week activity. Spencer Reid sat at his desk, frustration evident as he jabbed the keyboard of his computer, which remained frozen. A flash of error codes danced across the screen, none of which made sense to him—a rare occurrence, and one that only served to heighten his irritation. He let out a sigh, raking a hand through his hair as the team around him exchanged knowing glances. 

"Reid, you okay there?" Rossi’s voice came from a nearby desk, teasing and lighthearted as he looked up from his case files. 

"No," Spencer huffed, shaking his head. "My computer’s completely unresponsive, and I have a report due in—" he checked his watch for the sixth time in as many minutes "—an hour."

"Kevin's supposed to be here soon," JJ assured him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "He’ll fix it, don't worry."

Just as she spoke, the doors to the bullpen swung open, revealing someone none of them had seen before. You walked in, holding a laptop under one arm, the ID badge around your neck swinging slightly as you headed toward them with confident strides. A few of the team members exchanged glances, a mix of curiosity and amusement flickering in their eyes. 

Hotch cleared his throat, greeting you with a nod. "You're here for the computer issue?"

"Yeah, I’m the IT support on call while Penelope Garcia is away," you confirmed, offering a polite smile. "I heard there was a problem with Dr. Reid’s computer?" You looked around, trying to spot the agent who was in need of your help. 

Reid, already on edge, looked up with surprise, blinking as if he hadn't quite processed that it wasn't Kevin Lynch who was standing in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, clearly unsure how to respond to this unexpected change.

"I, um… expected Kevin," he finally mumbled, his voice betraying his slight unease. "I’ve never seen you before."

"Yeah, I took over his position," you explained, not missing a beat. "Penelope has mentioned you a few times, Dr. Reid." You held back a grin as you said this; she had described the team members in amusingly vivid detail. "She told me you like to keep your computer files meticulously organized."

Reid flushed slightly at the mention of his organization habits, and Derek, leaning back in his chair, raised a brow. “You know, this should be good,” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for the others to hear. Emily, who had taken a break from her own work to watch the scene unfold, leaned against her desk with a sly grin, clearly enjoying every second of it.

Spencer, however, was less amused. “It just stopped working,” he said, gesturing to the screen with a frustrated wave of his hand. “The whole thing’s frozen, and I can’t even get the task manager to open.”

"Sounds like it could be an issue with the registry or a corrupted file," you said, more to yourself than to anyone else, as you moved closer to his desk. "Mind if I take a look?"

Reid hesitated but eventually moved his chair to the side, allowing you access to his computer. As you set your laptop down and began connecting it to his system, the team observed with bated breath. Derek shot JJ a look, one that said he was clearly enjoying watching Spencer’s mild discomfort. 

Within seconds, you were typing furiously, navigating through various system files and directories, your eyes narrowing as you focused. Spencer’s eyes darted between the screen and your hands, trying to follow what you were doing, though he couldn’t quite keep up with your speed. You were faster than Kevin, more direct, and there was no room for small talk—just pure efficiency.

"There," you finally announced, pressing the enter key with a flourish. The screen blinked, flickered, and then—miraculously—sprang back to life, all files intact, and no trace of the error messages that had plagued it before.

Spencer blinked, stunned at how quickly you’d fixed it. He had been prepared for a long, awkward stretch of waiting, and yet you’d solved the problem almost effortlessly. He turned to you, feeling a touch of embarrassment creep up the back of his neck at his earlier impatience. “Wow… that was fast,” he admitted, his voice softer now, clearly humbled by your swift expertise.

“Glad I could help,” you said, your smile warm but professional as you started gathering your things. "It was just a couple of corrupted processes in the background. Shouldn't be an issue anymore, but if it acts up again, let me know."

Hotch nodded approvingly as you packed up, and Rossi gave a little chuckle. “Well, Reid, it looks like you're in good hands.”

Spencer, feeling that flush of gratitude and a bit of self-consciousness, turned back to you. "Thank you, really. I mean—I didn't mean to come off as... Well, thanks."

You nodded, the sincerity of his words clear despite his awkwardness. “No problem, Dr. Reid. I’m always around if you need anything fixed.” You threw a quick wave to the rest of the team before heading out, leaving Spencer sitting there, staring at his now fully functional computer, wondering how you’d made it all look so easy.

Once you were gone, Derek let out a low whistle. “Well, that was something.”

JJ smirked, turning to Spencer. “I’d say she handled you pretty well.”

Spencer huffed, his eyes narrowing playfully as he resumed his work, “I don’t need to be handled.”

—

Over the next few days, it seemed like Spencer was having an unprecedented run of technical issues. And they all, without fail, required your assistance.

It started innocently enough—a “network connectivity problem” that turned out to be nothing more than a loose cable. You had come by quickly, knelt beside his desk to adjust the cord, and, while fixing it, noticed the way his eyes followed your every move. His face had remained composed, but the flush to his cheeks when you stood up and announced the issue had been hard to miss. The team had shared knowing glances behind his back, each one barely concealing their smirks.

Then, just two hours later, his computer's fan started "making an odd noise." Of course, Spencer had once again denied that it could be a false alarm, claiming there was something seriously wrong with it. And you, being the professional you were, had obliged, leaning down to listen to the fan’s soft whirring as your fingers brushed against the side of the machine. He tried to maintain his cool—really, he did—but it was becoming more and more obvious that the fan was just fine. When you turned around, you caught the way his gaze shifted slightly down before flicking back to your face, trying to play it off as if he’d been looking at his notes.

"Spencer," you teased lightly, as you finished the quick check and stood up, "I’m starting to think you're trying to set a record for the number of help tickets submitted in a single week."

His reaction was immediate. "What? No, no, I just..." He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered but in a way that made your own stomach do a small flip. "I mean, I... really have been having a lot of issues lately." He tried to sound convincing, but his voice wavered just enough for you to know he didn’t even believe himself.

"Of course you have," you said with a playful smile, your voice just low enough that only he could hear the amusement in your tone. "Well, if anything else comes up... you know where to find me."

It didn’t stop there. Later that same day, when the team was preparing for a briefing, Spencer announced that the projector wasn't working. The rest of the team, sitting around the table, didn't even try to hide their grins this time. Hotch covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough. Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and winked at Emily, who was openly chuckling now.

"Projector issues, huh?" you said as you walked in, the teasing lilt in your voice fully on display this time. You gave the machine a once-over, noticing that it was turned off—not broken. You pressed the power button, and, sure enough, the screen flickered to life immediately, the bright display shining against the conference room wall. "Looks like it just... needed to be turned on."

"Rookie mistake," Spencer said quickly, trying to sound like it was a simple oversight. But the way he shifted in his seat, his lips pressing into a thin line, made it clear he knew how obvious his ploy had become. "I... appreciate you coming all the way up here for that."

"Oh, anytime," you replied, flashing him a smile that he swore could melt glass. You took a moment to adjust a cord, bending slightly as you did, and while Spencer’s eyes followed your movement, you couldn’t miss the way his gaze trailed down, lingering for a split second before he caught himself. He quickly straightened in his chair, clearing his throat as he looked back to his teammates, who were all trying their best to act like they weren’t paying attention. 

Once you were done with the projector, you turned back around and leaned against the table, arms folded across your chest, watching him with an amused twinkle in your eyes. You'd expected him to be bumbling and shy—most people warned you of Dr. Reid's reserved nature. But as you looked at him now, there was a new spark in his eyes, a confidence you didn't expect. It was as if he'd picked up on the fact that you didn’t mind his attention. In fact, you welcomed it.

The projector working perfectly now, he got up from his chair, and instead of sitting back down, he stepped closer to where you stood. “You know,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear, “I think I’ve run into more technical issues this week than I have all year.”

“Oh really?” you raised an eyebrow, enjoying this new, more self-assured side of him. “Well, if it happens again... you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice just a touch deeper than usual, and his gaze fixed directly on yours. And the way he looked at you, intense yet amused, sent a shiver down your spine. There was nothing shy or bumbling about it—he knew what he was doing.

Just as you felt the tension build between the two of you, Derek’s voice cut through the air, loud and teasing. “Reid, man, I don’t know what’s going on with your computer, but I have a feeling you might need to get a whole new system. You know, one that doesn’t break every day.”

The rest of the team laughed, and you bit your lip, trying not to laugh too openly yourself as you gathered your things and prepared to leave. Spencer, on the other hand, only rolled his eyes, but his lips curved into a small, confident smile as he looked back at you.

“See you around, Dr. Reid,” you said, your voice carrying just enough playfulness to make sure the message was clear.

“Counting on it,” he replied smoothly, that glimmer of confidence shining in his eyes as you turned to leave, feeling his gaze on you the whole way out of the room. And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, his computer would stop working again very soon.

—

When Penelope returned from her vacation the following week, it felt like the bullpen lit up with vibrant color. Her laughter and colorful essense filled the space in a way that only she could manage. It was clear that the whole team was happy to have her back—JJ had hugged her so tightly Penelope squealed, Hotch had given her one of his rare, genuine smiles, even Rossi, always a gentleman, had brought her a coffee from her favorite café.

And Spencer, who adored his friend, had a huge smile on his face as she bounced over to his desk to give him a bear hug. However, as he sat back down, his smile faltered ever so slightly. Because, with Penelope back, it meant that all the “technical difficulties” he’d been experiencing for the past week would no longer require your assistance. And, truth be told, he was going to miss those visits—the way you’d walk in with that teasing smile of yours, lean over his desk to fix whatever nonexistent problem he’d concocted, and exchange playful banter that left him feeling... well, giddy.

“Pretty boy,” Derek’s voice called out from across the bullpen, dripping with humor and teasing, “what are you gonna do now? You know Miss Penny’s not going to come running every time you snap your fingers.”

Spencer’s eyes shot daggers at Derek, but that only made Morgan’s grin grow wider, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look. Spencer tried to school his expression into one of mild indifference, but the tips of his ears were already turning red. It was like a beacon—he might as well have hung up a sign that read “Caught.”

“Yeah, Reid,” Emily chimed in, her laughter ringing through the bullpen as she joined in on the teasing. “Is your computer going to start magically working again? Or should we expect another week of ‘emergency’ projector repairs and ‘technical malfunctions’?” 

JJ chuckled, shaking her head as she flipped through case files. “Seriously, Spence, I think your computer had more issues last week than it has since I’ve known you. It's kind of impressive, really.”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped just a little as he leaned over his desk, trying to focus on the file in front of him, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his feigned annoyance. “It’s not like I... meant for anything to happen,” he mumbled, a poor attempt at innocence that only made everyone laugh harder.

“Oh, sure, sure, Dr. Reid,” Derek said, his tone dripping with exaggerated belief. “I’m sure it was all just a big ol’ coincidence that your computer broke down every time she walked by.” He stood up and sauntered over to Spencer’s desk, leaning against the side as he grinned. “Admit it—you liked having her around. And don’t even try to deny it. We all saw you staring.”

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but he found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t exactly say that it wasn’t true—because, well, it was. He had liked having you around, more than he cared to admit, even to himself. But he also wasn’t quite ready to face the full brunt of Derek’s teasing, nor the knowing looks that Emily and JJ were exchanging. He settled for glaring at Morgan instead, trying to look as offended as possible, though it only ended up making him look mildly sheepish.

“What can I say?” Penelope chimed in, swirling over to join the conversation, hands on her hips as she gave Spencer a playful wag of her finger. “Apparently, Dr. Reid’s computer has abandonment issues that only manifest when I'm gone. Who knew?”

The team burst into laughter, and Spencer, resigned to the teasing, just shook his head. “Fine, laugh all you want,” he said, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress his grin. “I can handle my own computer problems from now on, okay?”

“Yeah, right,” Emily scoffed. “Sure you can.”

JJ, still chuckling, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Well, if you do run into any more issues... I’m sure you know exactly who to call.”

Spencer nodded, the grin finally breaking free across his face, because they were right—he did know who to call. He couldn’t help but replay the last week in his mind, all those moments spent with you at his desk, your quick wit, and how easy it was to talk to you. He wasn’t quite ready to let that go just yet.

The thought sparked something bold inside him—something not unlike the confidence he’d felt when you were around. As the team’s laughter finally died down and they went back to their work, Spencer pulled up his email. He went into his contacts and found your name, saved from the last time you’d fixed his “broken” computer. And as he looked at it, that same spark of confidence urged him to do something he normally wouldn’t have done.

With a grin playing on his lips and a slight blush creeping up his neck, he sent you an email.

Hello–

Dr. Reid, here. Just wanted to let you know that my computer's working perfectly now... though I'd still love to see you again. Maybe for a drink this time, instead of a repair?

Hope to hear from you soon.

—Dr. Spencer Reid

And with that, Spencer leaned back in his chair, waiting for your reply with a flutter in his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips, and the whole team none the wiser.

—

Three days felt like an eternity to Spencer. He had replayed every interaction with you in his mind—every word, every smile, every touch as you fixed his "malfunctioning" devices. He was sure—almost sure—that you liked him. But now, as those days stretched on without any word from you, that confidence wavered, then crumbled. 

It started out as just a bit of hopeful waiting—maybe you were busy. Maybe you hadn’t seen the message. Or maybe you were just figuring out the right way to respond. But by Wednesday, the optimism that had carried him through the week turned into something else entirely. Desperation. Every few minutes, he compulsively checked his phone, or his computer, swiping to refresh his email, pulling up his call logs, checking even his office mailbox just in case he’d missed something. Nothing. Always nothing. 

The team had started to notice, the way his attention darted to his screens every few minutes, the little sighs of disappointment that followed when no message awaited him. 

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek’s voice broke through his distracted thoughts that Wednesday afternoon, his tone still light but tinged with concern. “What’s got you all twitchy? You’ve been staring at that phone like it owes you money.”

Spencer quickly dropped his phone, face burning as if he’d been caught in some embarrassing act. “It’s nothing,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... waiting for a message.”

JJ, passing by, raised an eyebrow as she handed out case files. “Anyone important?” she asked softly, the concern evident in her voice as she leaned over his desk.

Spencer shook his head, shrugging off their questions. “No one important. It’s nothing, really.” But as soon as their attention drifted away from him, he found his eyes creeping back to his screen, a dull ache settling in his chest. Each time he saw no new message, that ache tightened just a little more, wrapping around his ribs like a cold hand squeezing the life out of him.

By Thursday, he had almost entirely given up hope. He sat at his desk, staring blankly at his work, the notes and case files a jumble of words that he couldn’t seem to make sense of. All he could think about was that email he’d sent, the one you hadn’t answered. He was sure he’d crossed some kind of line—maybe you hadn’t been interested in the first place, maybe he’d completely misread the signals. And God, wouldn’t that just be the most classic Spencer Reid thing? Missing the social cues, seeing things that weren’t there, building up a fantasy in his mind that didn’t actually exist.

A quiet voice whispered in his head, one that had lived there since he was a kid—the voice that said he wasn’t good enough, that he would never be good enough. That maybe he was destined to always fall for people who could never fall for him. Another woman who slipped away, another chance he’d fumbled. 

Hotch’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, deep and steady. “Reid, are you alright?” he asked, his gaze steady and concerned.

Spencer looked up, startled to find the whole team watching him, worry etched across their faces. He quickly nodded, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah. I’m fine, just... tired.”

“Right,” Emily said, her voice skeptical as she exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them clearly sharing a silent conversation. But they let it go, turning back to their work, and leaving Spencer to his thoughts once more.

He slumped back in his chair, eyes fixed on the empty email screen before him. And that was when he let it sink in—that gnawing feeling of defeat, that familiar loneliness that had shadowed so much of his life. He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget you, to pretend like he didn’t care. But as much as he tried to shove those feelings down, the truth was undeniable: he had liked you. Really liked you. And now, it was just another reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Typical, he thought bitterly, fingers tapping against the desk as he stared blankly at the computer screen. I’m not good enough.

And so, as Thursday drew to a close, he resolved to let it go, to accept that whatever fleeting hope he’d had for something more was just that—a fleeting hope, nothing real. 

If only he knew how wrong he was. 

By the time Friday rolled around, the BAU team had had just about enough of Spencer's sullen mood. For days, he’d been dragging his feet around the office, sighing dramatically, and staring into space as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. He was distracted, more than usual, and his sharp wit had dulled under the cloud of whatever was plaguing him. 

Finally, Derek had had enough. “Reid, man, you need to loosen up,” he declared that afternoon, tossing a ballpoint pen at Spencer, who caught it with a look of mild annoyance. “We’re going to O’Keefe’s tonight. You’re coming with us, and that’s not a suggestion.”

Spencer glanced around the room, seeing the supportive yet firm looks from the others—Emily, JJ, Rossi, and even Hotch, who gave a slight nod of approval. There was no way he was going to get out of it, and frankly, part of him didn’t want to. He had been hoping to spend his weekend taking you out for drinks, but since that clearly wasn’t happening, drinks with his team seemed like the next best thing.

“Alright, fine,” he said, agreeing quickly, much to the surprise of everyone around him. A chorus of cheers and supportive pats on the shoulder met his response, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of something other than that disappointment that had been lodged in his chest all week.

So that evening, they made their way to O’Keefe’s, a no-frills cop bar that had become something of a second home for the team. They settled into a large booth by one of the pool tables, ordering rounds of beers, mixed drinks, and, for Spencer, a hard Arnold Palmer. He sat across from JJ, who nursed her own drink and was trying to keep the conversation light and fun, though she couldn’t quite pull Spencer out of his funk.

“Come on, Spence,” she said, taking a sip of her drink and smiling warmly at him. “It’s Friday and Penelope’s back. Lighten up. You’ll be kicking everyone’s butt at pool soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer said, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine, JJ, really. Just... tired.” He played with the straw in his drink, his gaze drifting to the pool table where Derek and Emily were embroiled in a heated game, Rossi leaning against the wall and calling out tips that neither of them listened to.

JJ was about to press him further when her eyes went wide, and a grin spread across her face. She leaned forward suddenly, her expression brightening with mischief as she looked just over Spencer’s shoulder. “What?” he asked, furrowing his brows at her sudden change in demeanor, confused by the excitement lighting up her eyes.

JJ just nodded toward the bar, barely able to contain her grin. “Your girl’s here,” she said, in a sing-song voice that only JJ could pull off without sounding ridiculous.

Spencer’s heart nearly stopped, a wave of hope and disbelief washing over him. He turned around quickly, eyes scanning the crowd of off-duty officers, detectives, and FBI agents mingling around the room. And then he saw you. Standing by the bar, chatting casually with the bartender as you waited for your drink, you looked effortlessly stunning, the dim lights of the bar casting a soft glow on your features.

He whipped back around to face JJ, panic and excitement mingling in his expression. “What—what do I do?” He sounded more flustered than he’d meant to, and JJ couldn’t help but laugh at his wide-eyed bewilderment.

“Well, you could start by getting up and talking to her, genius,” she said with a teasing nudge. “I think that’s a pretty good place to start.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped up from the booth, nearly knocking over his drink in his haste, and made his way over to the bar, trying to gather his composure with each step. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind—was this just a coincidence? Had you come here to see him? What if you were here with someone else? He shook his head, trying to push the nervous thoughts away as he closed the gap between you.

You looked up just as he approached, a soft smile spreading across your lips as your eyes met his. “Dr. Reid,” you said in greeting, the warmth in your voice making his nerves settle—just a little.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little breathless as he stood beside you. He struggled for words, trying to find the right thing to say, the right way to act after days of silence. “I, uh... didn’t expect to see you here.”

Spencer’s eyes took in your appearance as you stood before him, and he couldn’t help but let his profiler instincts kick in, analyzing every detail of your outfit. You looked effortlessly polished, your blazer open just enough to be casual yet elegant, paired with a skirt that hit the perfect balance of professional and playful. He couldn’t shake the thought—had you dressed up for someone? The idea made his stomach twist with nerves.

The silence stretched between you, and you shifted slightly on your feet, clearly trying to gauge his reaction. You nodded awkwardly, your voice trailing off, “Yeah…”

Spencer looked at you, trying to make sense of everything. His palms started to sweat, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Are you... meeting someone here?”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you let out an awkward laugh, your hands playing with the strap of your bag as you shrugged. “You? Hopefully?” You gave a half-smile, one that was both hopeful and embarrassed. “I mean, I never heard back from you, so I was kind of... taking a chance here.”

Spencer's brows furrowed, and he felt his head start to spin. What did you mean you never heard back from him? He felt like the ground was moving beneath him as he tried to piece together what could have happened. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet, uncertainty and panic creeping in.

You let out another nervous laugh, clearly unsure of what to make of his reaction. “It’s okay if you changed your mind,” you said quickly, looking down at your drink as if it held all the answers you needed. “Let’s not make this any more awkward, please. I just... didn’t want to let it be this weird thing hanging over us, y’know?”

The words hit him like a freight train. Changed his mind? No—no, that wasn’t right. He never changed his mind. In fact, he had been waiting on pins and needles for a response from you, thinking that you were the one who had changed your mind. But something clearly had gone wrong, and Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to figure out how to salvage the moment, how to explain himself to you without making things worse.

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t change my mind. I... I sent you a message, I swear. I thought you were the one who... didn’t respond.” He could hear how frantic he sounded, and he hated it, hated that he was coming across as desperate, but it was the truth. “I’ve been checking my phone for days, I swear—”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your expression filled with curiosity and sympathy. Spencer’s clear panic, the earnest way he was nearly tripping over his own words, had you leaning towards trusting his side of things. He didn’t seem like the type to play games, and that flicker of hope in his eyes as he watched you seemed genuine—almost too genuine. 

“Can I see your phone, Dr. Reid?” you asked, holding out your hand. Your tone was light but held a hint of authority, like you were about to solve one of his computer problems again, only this time, with a very different sort of error. 

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he immediately fumbled in his pocket, fishing out the device with shaky hands. “Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, handing it over to you without hesitation. He was clearly desperate for an explanation, any explanation that didn’t involve you losing interest in him. 

You took his phone and your fingers flew across the screen, pulling up his email app, your expression turning more focused as you scanned through the settings. He watched you, nervous but fascinated at how deftly you navigated through his phone, a slight furrow forming on his brow as you did... whatever it was you were doing. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he hoped for a miracle. 

Then, all of a sudden, you let out a small, involuntary snort—a sound so genuine and cute that it caught Spencer off guard. His heart did a flip in his chest at how unguarded and... normal it was. It wasn't a laugh of mockery, but a laugh of oh, of course.

“What?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, but unable to hide the edge of panic creeping back in. “What did you find?”

You flipped the phone around to show him the screen, and there, clear as day, was the culprit. “You have your email set to send unknown contacts to spam,” you explained with a bemused smile. Your finger pointed to the tiny, barely noticeable setting, and there, nestled in his spam folder, was your email—unread, unopened, and very much the response he had been waiting for.

Spencer stared at the screen, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment crash over him like a tidal wave. “Oh my God,” he breathed, looking from his phone to you and back again, his face flushing a deep shade of red. “I... I didn’t— I had no idea that setting was on.” He let out a slightly shaky laugh, and then another, the tension melting from his body as he realized how silly this whole situation had been.

“Yeah, looks like you had a 'filter spam' setting for any emails from unknown contacts,” you said, the teasing tone in your voice unmistakable. “So my email went straight to your spam folder. Not exactly where I wanted it to end up.”

He let out another nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head at himself. “I am... so sorry. I spent the last few days thinking... well, thinking you just didn’t want to respond.”

“Trust me,” you said, smiling as you handed his phone back, “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I was kind of doing the same thing.” You bit your lip, giving him a small, conspiratorial grin. “So... do we get to hit the reset button on that? Maybe... pretend like I never ended up in your spam folder in the first place?”

Spencer nodded eagerly, grateful beyond words for your understanding. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Yes, please. Reset button. I’d like that very much.”

“Good,” you said, lifting your glass in his direction again, that warmth in your eyes making his stomach do another flip. “So... let’s start over.” 

“Yeah,” he replied, meeting your gaze with a smile that finally reached his eyes. “Let’s start over.” And as he raised his own drink to yours, Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relieved—so genuinely happy—as he did right then.

You grabbed a drink and settled in beside Spencer, sliding into the booth with an ease that immediately lightened the mood. The team noticed the shift instantly. Derek raised his eyebrows, nudging Emily with a smirk as they all watched you laugh, Spencer's posture now more relaxed than they'd seen all week. 

“Hey, guys,” you greeted, giving a wave to the rest of the team as they took you in. “Hope you don’t mind if I crash the party.”

“Mind?” Emily grinned, tossing her pool cue over her shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up all week.”

“Yeah, and give us a chance to figure out what’s got pretty boy here all tied up in knots,” Derek added with a teasing wink. Spencer flushed but didn’t look away from you, a rare boldness shining through as you held his gaze.

“Well, glad I could make the diagnosis clear,” you joked back, leaning into the banter as if you’d known them for years. You turned to Spencer, who looked slightly flustered but undeniably happy. “So, Dr. Reid, do you play pool, or is that not your style?”

Spencer’s eyes twinkled with that familiar spark of confidence you’d seen before. “I do,” he admitted, leaning in just a touch closer. “But I have to warn you, I'm not exactly an amateur.”

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms in mock challenge. “I might have to see that for myself. Maybe you could give me a few pointers?”

The playful energy between you was palpable, and JJ’s laugh cut through the noise of the bar. “Oh, this is going to be good,” she murmured to Rossi, who was sipping his drink with a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying the way the night was unfolding. 

Derek hopped up from his seat, grabbing another cue and handing it over to you. “Alright, newcomer, you're up. Let’s see if you can hold your own against Spencer 'Einstein' Reid here.”

You grinned, accepting the cue as you approached the pool table. “So, any rules I should know about?” you asked, pretending to be oblivious as you leaned over the table to line up a shot.

Spencer stood beside you, his own cue resting against his side as he cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, his voice taking on a soft, instructive tone, “it's all about angles and force. You have to judge the best way to break the rack and control the white cue ball.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your expression playful. “Think you could... show me?” You took your stance, leaning down to take the first shot, but purposefully not quite getting it right, leaving plenty of room for Spencer to join you. 

Spencer, catching on to your flirtation, stepped behind you. He placed his hands over yours, gently guiding your grip on the cue stick, his voice low in your ear as he explained. “Like this,” he said, positioning your hands. “And you want to keep your body steady, like this.” His chest brushed lightly against your back, and you couldn’t help but smile at the closeness, the tension thickening between you.

You let him guide the shot, and as the cue ball cracked against the rack, the other balls scattered across the table in a perfect spread. You both stood back, admiring the shot, and he met your eyes with a triumphant grin. “Not bad, huh?”

You let out a laugh, turning to face him fully. “I think you’re a pretty good teacher, Dr. Reid,” you said, holding his gaze. “Though I get the feeling you're holding back on me. I might need a few more... lessons.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and there was a flicker of challenge in his eyes that you found irresistibly charming. “Oh, don't worry,” he said, leaning just close enough for your shoulders to brush. “I can think of a few more things to show you.”

The rest of the team watched with amusement as the two of you circled around the pool table, trading flirty remarks and friendly taunts, the ease between you growing more natural with every passing minute. The night was fresh, fun, and filled with laughter, and as you leaned in closer to Spencer, both of you barely hiding your smiles, it was clear that this wasn’t just a simple bar game anymore. 

It was the start of something much more promising.

The night at O’Keefe’s stretched on, the hours slipping by in the warm haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and the quiet spark between you and Spencer. As the drinks flowed, so did the stories—Rossi sharing old tales from his early days in the FBI, Emily chiming in with outrageous anecdotes about undercover missions gone wrong, and Derek doing impressions of just about everyone on the team, much to everyone’s amusement.

Slowly, the night began to wind down, the team peeling off one by one. Hotch checked his watch, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, Jack’s probably still up waiting for me to get home,” he said, downing the rest of his drink in one smooth motion. “I should get going.”

“Yeah,” JJ added with a sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she stood up from the booth. “Henry’s going to be bouncing off the walls early tomorrow morning. Can’t wait to find out what he’s gotten into this time.” She gave Spencer a warm hug and then shot you a quick, friendly smile. “It was great meeting you officially, by the way. Take care of our boy, okay?”

“I will,” you said, grinning back as she squeezed your arm. You watched as JJ and Hotch made their way to the door, exchanging goodbyes with the team, leaving the booth feeling a little emptier.

“Alright,” Rossi said a few moments later, patting Emily on the back and standing to stretch. “I suppose it’s my turn to play chauffeur. Ready, Emily?”

Emily, who had already been halfway through another drink, rolled her eyes dramatically. “Guess that’s my cue.” She gave you a friendly nod. “Don’t let these two tease you too much,” she said, motioning toward Derek and Penelope. “They can be relentless.”

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a knowing look. “Behave, kid,” he said with a wink, before guiding Emily toward the exit, the two of them laughing as they disappeared into the night.

That left you, Spencer, Derek, and Penelope at the booth. Penelope, however, had clearly been indulging in a few too many drinks and was staring mournfully into her glass, tears welling up in her eyes. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about... the mom in Bambi,” she hiccuped, her voice cracking with an exaggerated sob. “She didn’t deserve to die, Derek! She... she didn’t even see it coming!”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Derek said with a gentle smile, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get you home before you start on The Lion King or we’ll be here all night.”

“Simba...” Penelope wailed as Derek guided her toward the door, waving haphazardly to you and Spencer. “Poor Simba...”

“Alright, that’s our cue,” Derek said as he all but carried Penelope away, glancing back over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “You two lovebirds stay out of trouble now.” He waggled his eyebrows, his voice dropping into a teasing, mock-serious tone. “And remember—use protection. I don’t need to be godfather to any surprise Reid juniors.”

Your face flushed at his words, and you let out an awkward laugh, waving him off. “Jeez!”

Spencer, equally flustered but trying to play it cool, cleared his throat and gave Derek a tight-lipped smile. “Goodnight, Morgan.”

“Night, pretty boy!” Derek called back, dragging Penelope out the door as she continued to mumble something about baby deer and heartbreak.

And then it was just you and Spencer, the bar a little quieter now that most of the team had gone, leaving an intimacy to the moment that hadn’t been there before. He looked at you, the smile on his face softer than it had been all night. “Well,” he said, voice low as he leaned a little closer, “looks like it’s just the two of us now.”

“Yeah,” you replied, meeting his eyes, feeling the warm, heady buzz of the night settling around you. “Just us.” 

Spencer's eyes were locked on yours, and for a moment, it seemed like time stood still around you both. The sounds of the bar, the chatter of remaining patrons, and even the buzz of the city outside faded into a background hum, leaving just you, him, and the heavy sense of something left unsaid. He didn't want another week of doubt, didn't want to leave this up to chance again, and it was that thought—that fear of missing out on whatever this was—that spurred him to do something he never would have considered before tonight.

He took a breath, inching closer to you, and you felt the shift immediately, the way his whole demeanor seemed to change—his usual hesitance giving way to a new, quiet confidence. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips, just for a moment, before meeting your gaze again. And then, before you could say anything, before you could second-guess or tease him for the boldness, he leaned in.

The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt the soft tickle of his breath against your ear, making your skin tingle. His voice was low, intimate, and sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. “I don’t... I don’t want to let you walk out of here and spend another week wondering if you’re thinking about me the way I’m thinking about you.”

You turned your head slightly, your noses almost brushing as you found yourself face-to-face with him, his eyes so close to yours that you could see every fleck of gold and green in their depths. “Spencer...” you whispered, your voice breathy and light, caught somewhere between surprise and excitement. 

“Come home with me?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with an urgency you’d never heard from him before. 

You nodded, the word catching in your throat as you stared at him, the world around you dissolving into just Spencer—the wild curls falling into his face, the way his eyes held yours as if there was no one else in the room. You half-expected him to kiss you then and there, the air thick with anticipation, your breath mingling, but instead, he did something that made your heart race even faster. 

He pulled back just slightly, that gentle smile never leaving his face, and grabbed your hand firmly in his. It was a simple gesture, but the way he intertwined his fingers with yours felt electric, like everything you'd both been holding back had suddenly found its outlet. And then, without another word, he tugged you along, weaving his way through the crowd, barely giving you a chance to react before he was guiding you out of the bar, his fingers tightening around yours as he dragged you toward the door.

You followed without hesitation, caught up in his momentum, and the night air hit you like a splash of cool water as you both stumbled outside. Spencer’s eyes darted around, searching for a cab, and his breath came fast—not from exertion, but from the sheer thrill of the moment, the heady realization that you were with him, that this was happening. 

As soon as he spotted an empty cab, his hand shot up, flagging it down. He opened the door for you, his eyes meeting yours once more, a question lingering in them—a last, silent “Are you sure?” But the look on your face was answer enough, filled with excitement, nerves, and that same intoxicating certainty.

He followed you into the backseat, and as soon as the door shut, his knee brushed yours, and he laced his fingers with yours again, not letting go for even a second. The cab driver’s voice was a distant hum as Spencer gave his address, and then the car pulled away, the city lights blurring by as you sat side by side, hands clasped together, hearts pounding in sync.

This was the beginning of something you couldn’t quite name, but you knew one thing for sure—there was no way either of you would let it slip through your fingers.

The cab ride felt like an eternity, yet all too brief at the same time. Spencer's hand never let go of yours, fingers entwined tightly as if holding on for dear life. He was trying so hard to stay composed, but you could see it—the way his knee bounced nervously, how his thumb traced tiny circles over your knuckles, his breath quickening each time your shoulders brushed. You were both suspended in that heady anticipation, caught between knowing and not knowing what would happen next, and it made every second feel electric.

When the cab finally pulled up in front of his apartment, Spencer fumbled with his wallet, tossing cash to the driver with an almost frantic urgency. You followed him out into the night, and the minute your feet hit the pavement, he was pulling you along with him again, guiding you up the steps to his building, his grip still tight on your hand. 

You hardly noticed the details of his apartment building as you rushed up the stairs. Every step felt like a race, a heartbeat, and you were both half-running, half-laughing, breaths coming fast from excitement more than exertion. And then you were at his door, and Spencer’s fingers were shaking just slightly as he worked the keys, the metal clinking in his hands before the lock finally clicked open. 

The door swung open, and the two of you tumbled into his apartment, breathless and caught up in the whirlwind of it all. For a split second, the room seemed still, the tension thick as you stood in his entryway, just inches apart. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, could see the way his chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, and you waited—waited for that final move, for him to close the space between you.

And then he did.

Spencer's hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in, eyes locking on yours with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. And when his lips finally met yours, soft yet urgent, it was like fireworks—white-hot and bright behind your eyes, the world exploding into a thousand colors and sensations. The kiss was everything and nothing like you’d expected: gentle yet hungry, trembling yet sure, like he’d been holding back for so long and finally, finally let the dam break.

You melted into him, your hands finding the front of his shirt, balling up the fabric in your fists to pull him closer. His other hand slid around your waist, drawing you in until there was no space left between your bodies, just heat and breath and the taste of him, sweet and real. You could feel him smile against your lips, a quick exhale of a laugh as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening either, but didn’t want to stop long enough to find out if it was a dream.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and he pulled you even closer, backing you up against the door until you were pressed against it, the wood cool against your back while every inch of him pressed into you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as if anchoring himself to you, and you tilted your head, letting him kiss you deeper, letting the kiss say all the things the two of you hadn’t yet put into words.

You could feel the thrill, the longing, the nervousness all at once, but there was also something so simple, so right in the way you fit together.

Spencer’s mind was spinning, like he was trying to piece together a thousand thoughts and sensations all at once. Finally having you in his arms—feeling the warmth of your body pressed to his, the taste of your lips—was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Sure, it had only been two weeks since he met you, but the intensity was overwhelming. Every touch, every kiss was like kindling, igniting a fire in him that burned hotter and brighter than he knew was possible.

And you? Being held so close by him, feeling his desperation and his need, made your heart race with its own frantic rhythm. It was an honor to be desired like this, especially by someone like Spencer—someone so brilliant, so genuinely good, and so intensely captivated by you. And to think that you’d had a secret crush on him for the last six months, ever since you first started at the FBI. You had admired him from a distance—the genius profiler, the man who seemed to know so much yet still carried himself with a gentle shyness that only made him more endearing. You’d never thought he’d even notice you, let alone look at you like this, like you were the only thing in the world he wanted.

When he finally started to notice you—those glances, the excuses for “technical help” that grew more and more frequent—you felt your world tilt on its axis. The way he looked at you was different from how he looked at anyone else, and when his eyes locked with yours, you could feel yourself leaning into that gravitational pull, your heart skipping in time with his.

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice came out as a whisper against your lips, trembling and rough, like he was fighting to keep control, fighting to hold himself back just enough to give you the choice. “I want you so bad... please say I can have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft, almost breathless laugh, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. The need in his eyes, the raw desire that seemed to consume every part of him—it was everything you’d secretly wished for, everything you’d imagined late at night when your mind wandered to the idea of being his.

“You can,” you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, to let him see the truth in your eyes. “You can have me, Spencer. I’m yours.” 

And that was all it took for the dam to break. Spencer’s mouth was on yours again, hungrier this time, a deep, desperate need spilling from his lips to yours as he kissed you like he was starved for you. He pressed you harder against the door, and his hands roamed your body—first up your sides, then down to your waist, finally settling on your hips as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on, and he groaned softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating through you and making your knees go weak. You wanted all of him—his intensity, his passion, and the vulnerable tenderness that only made you crave him more.

“Tell me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and ragged. “Tell me what you want. I want to know... I need to know.” His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the urgency in every movement, every touch, like he was holding on to the very thing he’d dreamed of but never thought he could have.

You looked at him, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. “I want you, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long. “I want everything with you. Right now.”

Spencer's grin was wicked and hungry, and the look in his eyes left you feeling like you were the only person in the world. You could see the wheels turning behind them—he was trying to make sense of what you wanted, to understand the boundaries, to feel out how much of himself he could give without overstepping. And when you said you wanted "everything," his mind had latched onto one word, one meaning: sex. That was something tangible, something he knew how to give, even if his experience was limited. 

If that was what you were willing to give, he would take it gladly, wholeheartedly—because how could he not? But deep down, beneath all the desire and adrenaline, Spencer craved so much more than just the physical. He had wanted you in ways he couldn’t articulate—ever since you’d started drifting into his orbit. He wanted late-night conversations, sleepy mornings, whispered confessions. He wanted everything you could give him, but if all you meant by "everything" was this, he would be grateful for that, too.

“I’ll give you everything,” he murmured, and his grin grew as he leaned in to kiss you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away just slightly. “But maybe we move to the bedroom first?”

Your breath hitched, and you could feel that flutter of excitement and nerves in your chest—the reality of the moment crashing over you like a wave. His words were laced with promise, but it wasn’t the promise you’d thought you were making. To you, “everything” meant his mornings, his afternoons, his nights. His laugh, his thoughts, his fears. You’d been hoping that what had been building between you would lead to more than just the physical; that it would be the start of something that might change both of your lives.

But he’d taken your words as permission to have you tonight—just tonight—and it stung, deep and sharp, like a thorn pricking at your heart. Maybe you’d been wrong to hope for more, wrong to believe there was something real between you beyond just lust and impulse. But if this was all Spencer wanted, then maybe that was enough for now. Maybe it could be enough to have him like this, to be close to him, even if just for one night.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing the emotions rising in your throat as you forced a smile, doing your best to mirror his energy, to make it seem like you wanted the same thing he did. “The bedroom sounds good.”

He took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours once again, and you tried to push away the disappointment that sat like a stone in your chest. He led you down the hall, fumbling as you both stumbled through the doorway to his room, all tangled limbs and laughter. Spencer tugged you close as soon as you stepped inside, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him, his mouth finding yours once more in a feverish, open-mouthed kiss. And for a second, just a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe that maybe there was more behind his touch���that maybe this wasn’t just about tonight.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling,” Spencer murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers tangled in the fabric of your blazer. His knuckles brushed against your skin, and his eyes were dark, wide, as if taking in every inch of you all at once. He hesitated for a moment, searching your face, and when he found nothing but eagerness in your eyes, he whispered, “Can I take this off?”

You nodded quickly, the movement of your head almost frantic, and Spencer didn’t waste any time. His hands moved to the buttons of your blazer, deft but slightly trembling with anticipation as he worked his way down, one button at a time. And then, as the fabric slipped away, revealing your bare chest, he let out a low, shaky sigh. “Fuck...” he groaned, the word spilling from his lips like he couldn’t help himself, his eyes locked onto you as if he’d never seen anything so perfect in his life.

You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound light and airy as you reveled in the intensity of his gaze, in the way he looked at you like he was worshiping you. But your laughter quickly turned into a sharp gasp as his hands moved to your breasts, gripping them firmly yet tenderly, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. His palms were warm against your skin, and the way he touched you—like he was savoring every second, every inch—made heat pool in your belly.

Spencer didn’t give you much time to adjust before he dove back in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was hungrier, rougher than before. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled you closer, molding your body to his as his mouth moved against yours in frantic desperation. Every movement, every brush of his lips, every squeeze of his hands sent sparks shooting down your spine, and you clung to him, matching his intensity with your own as you kissed him back.

He pressed you back toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and you let him guide you, your back arching under his touch as you felt the cool air of his apartment against your skin, mixing with the heat of his mouth and hands. And the way he touched you, held you, kissed you, left you breathless—his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples, making your back arch dramatically. 

"Spencer!" you whined into the darkness, your voice breathy and desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer and drag him deeper into you. The sound of his name fell from your lips like a plea, and he shuddered at the way it sounded, every syllable dripping with want. 

"Mmm, say my name again," he groaned, loving the way it felt rolling off your tongue—how it made him feel like he was all you needed, all you wanted. 

“Make me,” you challenged, your voice dipping into a teasing taunt as you tugged lightly at his hair, daring him, pushing him to meet you on this knife’s edge between play and need.

Spencer’s eyes flashed, the darkness of the room amplifying the heat in his gaze. His mouth quirked into a dark smile, and he dipped down, kissing a burning path from your collarbone to your chest. He paused there, nipping at the sensitive skin, his teeth scraping against you, catching the bud of your nipple in his mouth. He held your gaze as he did it, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch in your throat. He sucked lightly, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arching off the bed. But still, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds, not willing to give in to him—yet.

"You want to play it like that?" he asked darkly, pulling back to hover over you, his voice a rough whisper that made your stomach flip. The challenge in his eyes, the way they glittered with a mix of hunger and determination, left you breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation.

You nodded, giving him wide, falsely innocent eyes that only spurred him on. "Yeah," you breathed, voice light and taunting, the hint of a smirk on your lips. "What are you gonna do about it, Dr. Reid?"

A growl escaped his throat, low and rough, and his hands moved to your waist, finding the zipper of your skirt. Slowly, methodically, he dragged it down, the sound of the metal teeth parting filling the silence between your racing breaths. He didn’t break eye contact as he did it, his fingers brushing along your hip, pushing the fabric down inch by inch, teasing you, making you wait—making you squirm.

"Let's see how long you can keep up that attitude," he murmured, his voice dark and dripping with promise. "I'm going to make you say my name, over and over, until it's all you can think about." 

And with that, Spencer dropped to his knees, pulling your skirt and underwear off the rest of the way, baring you to him in the darkness of his bedroom. The cool air kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his hands moved to your thighs, parting them gently, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. 

“I want to see how long before you’re begging,” he whispered, leaning down, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he nipped and kissed his way up. And as you felt the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands holding you open for him, all you could do was tremble under his touch, knowing that any control you thought you had was about to be undone.

“You still biting that tongue, sweetheart?” Spencer’s voice was husky, the tease wrapped around a threat, and it sent shivers down your spine. He hovered right over your wet, aching core, his breath fanning over you, warm and taunting. You were trying to hold it together, trying to stay strong in this little game you'd started, but it was getting harder and harder with every second that passed, every teasing word that left his lips. 

You nodded, the attempt at maintaining composure faltering as a high-pitched, needy "mhm" escaped your throat—a sound more squeak than word. 

Spencer’s eyes narrowed with dark satisfaction, and he huffed a breath, his laughter rumbling from his chest as it ghosted across your most sensitive skin. The sensation drove you wild, made your thighs tense as you tried desperately to keep your composure, to hold back the moan threatening to tear out of you. But then he spoke again, his voice a teasing lilt as his eyes stayed locked on yours, and it was almost too much to handle. 

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this,” he said, and without another word, he dove in. 

His tongue licked a long, deliberate stripe through your folds, flattening out as if he were savoring every inch of you, the wetness of his mouth sending heat crashing through your entire body. And then he did it again, his tongue gliding through you like he was on a mission—hungry, eager, like he was trying to win a pie-eating contest. Every movement was frantic yet precise, a perfect blend of urgency and skill, his tongue moving against you in ways that made you see stars.

The laughter melted into pure focus as he went to work, his tongue circling and flicking, finding all the places that made you gasp and arch and shake. And he never stopped, never let up, his mouth relentless in its pursuit, as if he wanted to draw every single sound out of you, to hear his name fall from your lips again and again. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging helplessly as the pleasure built and built, and you couldn’t bite back the moans any longer. His name was still held tight behind your teeth, but the noises were free flowing as he sucked on your clit.

Spencer moaned in response, the vibrations adding a whole new level of sensation that made your hips buck against his mouth. He held you steady with his hands, pinning your thighs down as he dove deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue on you filling the room. And you could feel it, that coil tightening and tightening, your whole body trembling on the edge, Spencer’s mouth pushing you closer and closer.

Spencer pulled back for a second, just enough for you to see the wet shine on his lips, the way his mouth was parted in a smug, wicked grin. “Not gonna break, darling?” he teased, the words slow and taunting as he traced his fingers lazily along your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shook your head harshly, your hair spreading messily across the pillow, breath coming in quick pants as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But it was getting harder. Every nerve was on fire, every inch of your body craving more of his touch, and all you could do was bite your lip and hope you could hold out a little longer.

Spencer let out a deep, dramatic sigh, as if he were genuinely disappointed. “Guess I’ll have to try something else then,” he murmured, and though the words sounded like he was relenting, you could see the glint in his eyes—the one that said he was far from finished with you.

Before you could even process what he meant, before you could prepare yourself for whatever he had planned, your world spun. He flipped your body over effortlessly, your stomach pressed against the mattress, and then he gripped your hips, pulling you up onto your knees. Your breath hitched in surprise, your face buried in the pillow for a second as you tried to brace yourself, your mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift.

And then, before you could say a word, before you could even think, Spencer dove back in, his mouth finding you again with that same fevered intensity. But this time, he didn’t hold back. His fingers found your clit immediately, and he began rubbing tight, insistent circles, teasing and flicking the sensitive nub with just the right amount of pressure. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned loudly, your body jerking back against his face, the sensation too overwhelming to contain. The change in position had made everything more intense, more exposed, and the way he was touching you was driving you to the edge so fast you could barely keep up.

“Spencer—” you gasped, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow, your hands clawing at the sheets for something—anything—to hold on to. But Spencer was relentless, his fingers moving expertly as he licked and sucked, his mouth working you over with a single-minded focus. 

“Louder,” he commanded against your skin between long, slow licks, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Let me hear you.” And with that, he doubled down, his fingers pressing harder, his mouth driving you absolutely wild, the wetness and heat of him pushing you further and further until there was nothing left to hold back.

Your body trembled, and you felt the pressure building, your resolve crumbling, every breath coming out as a desperate plea, a broken cry. And all the while, Spencer kept at it, refusing to let up, determined to make you fall apart completely, to make you cry out his name like it was all you knew.

"Spencer... oh god, Spencer—" His name spilled from your lips over and over, breathy and desperate, unraveling any control you had left. The more you said it, the more it became a mantra, each syllable breaking apart in the waves of pleasure rolling through your body. Spencer’s eyes flickered up, a satisfied grin spreading across his face, so smug and sure as he watched you crumble.

“That’s right, baby,” he groaned, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. It was all the encouragement you needed and all the power he needed to dive back in, his mouth working you with renewed determination. He gripped your thigh tighter, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, his fingers never relenting as they pressed circles against your clit in perfect rhythm with his tongue.

Every lick, every flick of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure crashing through you, and you felt your body tense and tremble, the pressure inside you building to an unbearable peak. It felt like he was everywhere at once—touching, tasting, teasing—and all you could do was give in to the relentless onslaught, your hands clawing at the sheets as your hips bucked involuntarily against his face.

Spencer moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core and pulling you closer and closer to the edge. He wanted to make sure you felt every second of this, every ripple of pleasure, his only focus on bringing you to completion—bringing you to the brink and pushing you over, completely undone by him.

“Spencer, please—” You barely recognized your own voice, high and ragged, pleading as that coil of pleasure twisted tighter and tighter in your belly. And he heard you—oh, he heard you loud and clear. His mouth moved with a purpose now, tongue swirling and flicking over your clit with his fingers as they quickened their pace, leaving you nowhere to go but over the edge, no choice but to fall.

And then, all at once, you shattered, your body arching as your orgasm crashed over you, hard and overwhelming. You cried out his name, a desperate, breathless sob of pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed through you, leaving you trembling and gasping under his touch. And through it all, Spencer never let up, his mouth and fingers guiding you through every second, every pulse, every blissful aftershock.

“Too much,” you whimpered, your voice coming out in a broken cry as Spencer’s tongue continued its work, lapping up everything you’d given him like he was savoring the taste of you. “Spencer!” The overstimulation was making your thighs quiver, your whole body twitching under his relentless touch, and you reached down to push at his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull away.

Spencer let out a satisfied hum, and then he gave one last slow, deep suck against you, drawing out every ounce of your pleasure until you were gasping and shaking beneath him. He finally pulled back, placing a gentle kiss to your thigh before giving your ass a playful slap, just hard enough to make you flinch and then giggle softly, your breath coming out in a tired, happy sigh.

“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice gentle and full of concern as he moved up the bed, helping you flip back over so you were lying face-up, sprawled across his mattress. He settled in next to you, his body warm and solid against your side, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers tracing soft, soothing circles against your stomach. 

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out small and breathless. “I’m... I’m here.” You turned your head to look at him, meeting his eyes, which were full of adoration, his expression soft and open in a way that made your heart swell. 

Spencer smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, his fingers never stopping their gentle stroking against your skin. “Good,” he whispered, his voice low and tender. “You were amazing.” He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his gaze lingering on you like he was memorizing every detail, every moment. “I hope... I didn’t push too far.”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head and giving him a tired but contented smile. “You were perfect.” You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his jawline as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

He kissed you back, slow and sweet, holding you close as the two of you lay there, tangled up in each other, the room still buzzing with the energy of what had just happened. And as he held you, his touch gentle and soothing, you felt safe, wanted, and completely, utterly his.

But then your brain finally caught up with your body, reality rushing in to fill the spaces left by pleasure. You couldn't ignore the truth any longer—this wasn’t a relationship, it was a hookup. You'd wanted everything from him, but right now, it seemed like "everything" only meant the physical. And as much as you wanted to lose yourself in the warmth of his touch, the closeness, the tenderness, you reminded yourself that this was just tonight. That he probably didn’t want to cuddle, or hold you, or whisper sweet words to you in the dark.

So you gently pushed his hand away, your touch soft but firm as you sat up, putting just enough distance between the two of you. You felt his eyes on your back, confusion, maybe even concern, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It was easier to keep moving, to give yourself a new focus rather than dwell on the ache in your chest.

“Is something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle but tinged with a hint of worry, like he was afraid he’d done something wrong. He scooted up beside you, trying to catch your eye, the warmth of his body still lingering against your side. 

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip as you steeled yourself, pasting on a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “No, not at all,” you said, your voice a little too bright, a little too eager. “I’m... just returning the favor.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with arousal at the thought, but there was something else there too—something quieter, sadder. He couldn’t hide the way his expression flickered, the way the tension in his face softened into something more resigned. “Oh,” he breathed out, trying to cover the disappointment in his voice as his stomach twisted. For a moment, he'd thought this could be more than just sex—that maybe you’d want to stay wrapped in his arms, share whispers and touches until the morning. But as he looked at you now, as he saw the way you sat up and turned away, it became clear that wasn’t the case. 

And yet, the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips, and the way you were looking at him now with that determined glint in your eye—he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you. Even if just like this. 

“Right,” he said, shifting slightly to lie back, his voice lower, more hesitant than it had been all night. “Of course. I... I’d love that.” But even as his words hung in the air, he could feel the growing disconnect between what he wanted and what was happening. His erection tightened under the arousal of what was to come but flagged slightly at the realization of what it meant—that this was just sex to you. 

His hand found it’s way to your thigh as he tried to steady himself, to focus on the pleasure and not the ache of being so close to something he couldn’t quite touch. You were right here with him, offering him everything in the only way you thought he wanted it, and for now, he would take it—however he could.

You grinned at Spencer, trying to mask the turmoil swirling inside you, hoping that the sly smile you wore could hide the aching confusion beneath. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, and you let your eyes flick over his face, memorizing every feature, every little detail—the way his eyes were half-lidded with arousal, the blush dusting his cheeks, the anticipation tightening his body beneath yours. It was easier to focus on that, easier to lose yourself in the thrill of the moment than face the other thoughts circling in your mind.

You leaned down, pressing kisses along the column of his neck, feeling his breath catch as your lips brushed over his pulse, warm and quick beneath your touch. He tasted like salt and skin, and you let yourself revel in it as your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, fingers working quickly as you popped each one open. You could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his body responding to every kiss, every brush of your fingers.

Spencer’s hands found your hips, and he gripped you tightly as you straddled his lap, the warmth of you pressing down against his erection. His eyes fluttered closed as you kissed a path down his neck, teeth grazing lightly, and a low groan rumbled through his chest. He loved the way you felt on top of him, the way you moved, and the way your hands roamed across his skin.

You felt the way his fingers gripped tighter as if trying to ground himself in the moment, as you focused on how he looked beneath you. How beautiful he was in this light, with his shirt half-open and his chest rising and falling with each breath. You peeled back the fabric slowly, exposing his chest inch by inch, the cool air of the room meeting the warmth of his skin. 

"God, Spencer," you murmured against his collarbone, letting your voice drip with as much seduction as you could muster, your fingers splaying across his chest. “You look so good like this.” You hoped the words would cover the cracks in your voice, that he wouldn’t hear the faint tremor of uncertainty underneath.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands moving up your sides, and he tilted his head back, giving you full access to him as he tried to focus only on you—on the feel of your body against his, on the way you were making him feel. “Yeah?” he whispered, his voice low and rough with want as he tried to keep himself steady. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Your lips met his again, desperate and heated, trying to drown out any lingering questions with the taste of him and the feeling of his body pressing against yours, every inch of him wanting you, needing you. You could feel the hard length of him straining against his pants, and it only spurred you on more, hands moving quickly to strip him bare. You worked the button open, dragging his pants and boxers down his hips in one swift motion, eager to feel him, to be as close as possible.

When he was finally exposed, you couldn’t help but pause, taking him in for a moment. The sight of him—hard and ready, the flush of arousal painting him beautifully—left you breathless, and a gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Jesus...” you whispered, and it was all you could manage. 

Spencer’s chuckle was soft but nervous, his eyes searching yours, a hint of vulnerability in them despite the heat of the moment. He was waiting, holding back, and you knew he needed to hear something from you, anything that would reassure him, that would let him know you wanted this as much as he did. But the words got caught in your throat, overwhelmed by how badly you needed him, how badly you needed to feel him right then and there.

You didn't say anything else, letting your actions speak for you. With a confident ease, you climbed back up his body, pressing a line of kisses up his torso, then his chest, and finally back to his lips, never letting your eyes leave his as you aligned yourself over him. You reached between your bodies, guiding him to you, and in one smooth movement, you sank down on him, taking him inside, the stretch of him making your head fall back as you moaned low and long.

Spencer’s mouth fell open, a sharp breath escaping as he filled you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising strength, his eyes rolling shut as he fought to steady himself. "Oh my god," he groaned, his voice trembling with pleasure as he felt the warmth of you wrap around him, the way you held him tight, every inch of you fitting perfectly against him. 

You took a second to adjust, feeling the fullness of him, the way he stretched and pressed against every part of you, and then you started to move, slow and teasing at first, rolling your hips against him. The drag of him inside you, the way he fit, had you gasping and shaking, every movement sending sparks through your body.

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of reverence, and his fingers dug into your hips, trying to keep himself from losing control too soon. “Y/N... oh god, you feel so—” But the words dissolved into another groan as you started to pick up your pace, the heat between you both building to a wild, frantic rhythm that neither of you could hold back from.

All the tension, all the desire from the past weeks melted into each thrust, each roll of your hips, until there was nothing left but you and him, lost together in the purest, most overwhelming pleasure.

Spencer’s hands gripped you tightly, guiding you down hard and deep with every roll of your hips, each thrust driving him further inside until he hit that perfect spot within you. The pleasure was all-consuming, and you couldn't stop the cries that poured from your lips, his name tumbling out of you over and over again, desperate and broken, as if you’d forgotten how to say anything else. 

“Spencer—oh god, Spencer—” You could feel the pressure building, your body tightening around him, and you rode him harder, faster, chasing that feeling, the peak that you were so close to reaching. Each thrust, each grind of your hips against his, brought you closer, the pleasure crackling through you like electricity, and all you could do was hold on and let it take you.

Spencer’s voice was a rough groan beneath you, his own control slipping as he watched you come undone. “God, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes locking on yours, pupils blown wide with lust as he took in the way you moved over him, the way you used him. “You’re just... using me to get off?”

You whined in response, unable to form any coherent words, your head nodding almost frantically as you chased that sweet release, riding him like it was the only thing that mattered. You dug your fingers into his chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin as you arched your back, letting every inch of him fill you, stretch you.

“That’s so goddamn hot,” Spencer groaned, his voice breaking as he thrust up to meet you, matching your rhythm. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, from the way your body rocked against his, the way you came apart with every movement. “God, you’re so... beautiful like this.”

He thrust up into you with even more force, spurred on by the desperate way you moaned his name, the way your body responded to him so perfectly. The feeling of you gripping around him, taking him so completely, had him on the edge, barely holding back, but he wanted to see you come undone first—to make you fall apart while you used him for your own pleasure.

And as you moved above him, both of you lost in the heat of it all, you knew you were close, so close, the pressure building and tightening until it was almost unbearable, every cry of his name pushing you closer to that edge, to the release that was just within your reach.

Spencer watched you intently, his gaze locked on your face as you rode him, taking in every little shift in your expression—the way your eyes squeezed shut, the furrow in your brow, the way your mouth fell open as you chased that high, so close to coming undone. He knew you were getting there, teetering right on the edge, and he wanted to be the one to push you over, to watch you fall apart completely.

He brought his fingers down to where your bodies met, finding your clit again. The touch was gentle at first, a teasing brush of his fingertips, and then he pressed down, rubbing firm, tight circles that matched the rhythm of your movements. The sensation sent shockwaves through you, the sudden stimulation pushing you closer, every nerve lighting up as his fingers worked in tandem with his cock inside you.

“Spencer!” you cried out, your voice cracking with pleasure as you jerked against him, your hips stuttering as you tried to keep up the pace, tried to keep that feeling going. But the way he touched you, the way he filled you, it was all too much, too perfect. You clenched tightly around him, your body trembling as the pressure inside you built to an almost unbearable peak.

“That's it, sweetheart,” Spencer groaned, his voice low and rough with desire as he felt you tightening around him, your walls pulsing, squeezing. “Come on, I’ve got you. Let go for me.”

And that was all you needed—all it took was that extra pressure of his fingers, the way his voice coaxed you, deep and sweet, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out loudly, your entire body shaking as your orgasm washed through you, overwhelming and all-encompassing. You dug your nails into Spencer’s chest, your head falling back as your hips bucked against his, clenching around him tightly, rhythmically, drawing him even deeper as the pleasure rolled over you in wave after wave.

Spencer watched you come undone, his eyes drinking in every second of your release, feeling every pulse and tremor as you came around him. And God, the way you fell apart in his hands, the sound of your cries, your moans—it drove him wild, pushed him right to the brink of losing control.

Spencer’s own release was close, too close to hold back any longer as he felt you pulsing around him, your cries of pleasure echoing in his ears. He couldn’t last, not with the way you were trembling, the way you were milking him with every pulse of your orgasm. 

With a shaky groan, he quickly pushed your body off of his, the movement almost frantic, and you landed on your back beside him. He wrapped his hand around himself, working his length fast and hard, chasing his own high with ragged breaths. He leaned over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumped himself, his strokes quick and desperate as he watched you, your face still flushed and blissed-out from your release.

“Fuck—” he choked out, and then, with a few more rough strokes, he finished, spilling hot across both your stomachs, his eyes squeezing shut as he came undone. His groans were deep and guttural, his hips jerking as he rode out his climax, and he kept pumping himself, milking every last drop as it painted your skin, hot and slick.

He stilled above you, panting heavily as he slowly came back down, his body trembling as he tried to catch his breath. The sticky heat of his release covered both of you, mingling between your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear were the soft gasps of breath between you, the air thick with the heady scent of sweat and sex.

You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up beside Spencer and melt into his warmth, to trace the lines of his face with your fingertips and let yourself fall completely into this moment. But you knew better. You knew that if you stayed, if you let yourself indulge in the comfort of his arms and the soft, gentle post-coital haze that hung between you, you’d only fall for him harder. And you couldn’t do that—couldn’t let yourself want more than what this was supposed to be.

So you forced a laugh, light and casual, as you started to pull yourself up, peeling away from the tangled sheets and the heat of his body. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you, heard the confusion in his voice when he spoke. “Where—where are you going?” he asked, his voice still heavy with exhaustion and bliss, soft and a little vulnerable as he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you.

You turned to him, trying to keep your tone easy, like this wasn’t a big deal, like the moment you just shared didn’t make your heart want to explode with everything you felt for him. “Um, pee,” you said quickly, avoiding his eyes as you reached for your scattered clothes, finding tissues for your stomach before pulling your clothes on. “And then... home.”

“Home?” The word came out small and tired, and he pushed himself up a little further, watching you with a furrowed brow. “But—”

“Where’s your bathroom?” You interrupted, flashing him a quick, forced smile. You could see the slight hurt flash across his face, but you kept going, not letting yourself dwell on it. You couldn’t let him see the hesitation, the way your hands were trembling slightly as you tried to gather yourself.

“Down the hall, to the left,” he said quietly, his voice losing some of that sleepy warmth, a touch of disappointment leaking in.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, already making your way out of the room before he could ask any more questions or before the guilt could creep up and make you stay. Because if you stayed, even for a second longer, you were afraid you’d never leave.

After taking a moment in the bathroom to compose yourself, you splashed some water on your face, staring at your reflection. You tried to convince yourself that this was the right thing to do—that leaving now, before things got any more complicated, was what you both needed. But as you stepped out, walking back down the hall and catching a glimpse of Spencer waiting for you near the front door, the resolve you’d tried to build up wavered. 

He looked... different. Still tousled from your time together, his hair a wild mess, and his shirt half-open, but his expression was carefully neutral, masking whatever he might be feeling behind a tired, gentle smile. You could see the hint of some almost sad in his eyes, the way he was trying to be a gentleman about it all.

“Let me... let me walk you out,” Spencer said softly, moving to open the door for you. He was trying to keep his tone casual, but you could hear the strain in it, the unspoken question in his voice—did this mean anything to you? Were you going to leave and forget what happened?

You nodded, swallowing down the knot in your throat as you stepped closer to him. “Thank you,” you said quietly, not really knowing what else to say. Your words felt small and empty against the weight of everything that had just happened, of everything you were leaving unsaid.

He held the door open for you, the cool air from the hallway washing over both of you. And as you stepped out into that space, Spencer followed you, walking just a little bit behind as if making sure you wouldn't change your mind at the last second and turn back around. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything you wished you could say, but couldn’t find the words for. 

When you reached the doorway to the building, Spencer hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe as he turned to you one last time, his eyes searching your face, looking for something—anything—that might give him a reason to ask you to stay. But all he could do was give you that same tired, bittersweet smile, the one that tried to be reassuring, like this was just another night, even though both of you knew it wasn’t.

“So... um, thanks,” you said awkwardly, glancing down at your feet, not wanting to meet his eyes. You could feel the warmth of his gaze on you, the way he was trying so hard to keep his composure, to act like this was okay when it was anything but. “For tonight. It was...”

“Yeah,” Spencer said quickly, nodding as if to cut you off, to spare you from having to finish the thought. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for... everything.”

He was trying to act like it didn’t hurt, like he wasn’t struggling to let you go. He reached out to open the door fully, stepping aside to let you through, and you could see the way he forced himself to smile, to be the gentleman that he always was, no matter how much it stung.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice gentle but edged with something fragile.

You nodded, giving him one last smile before stepping out into the hallway, letting the door close behind you. And as you walked away, hearing the faint click of the lock as Spencer closed the door to his apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake by leaving, or if you were saving yourself from the hurt and rejection that you didn’t want to face.

—

Monday morning came with a bustle of energy through the bullpen—the start of a new week and, for the team, the renewed curiosity about what had gone down between Spencer and his "girl." It didn't take long for the teasing to start, either. From the moment Spencer walked in, sipping his coffee and trying his best to shake off the weekend’s melancholy, he could see the glances, the grins that were being traded across the room like secrets.

Derek was the first to pounce, of course. “Well, well, well,” he called out as Spencer passed by his desk. “There he is—the man of the hour. So, pretty boy, how was your weekend? Got any fun stories you want to share?” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face as if he knew exactly what kind of weekend Spencer had.

JJ joined in, setting her file down and giving Spencer a warm, knowing smile. “Yeah, Spence, you seemed... pretty cozy on Friday night.” She wagged her eyebrows playfully, nudging Emily, who tried to cover a laugh with a sip of her coffee.

Spencer felt his face flush, his mind immediately going back to every detail of the weekend—the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips, the way your voice had wrapped around his name. But that was quickly overshadowed by the stark reality of how it had ended, the way you’d quietly slipped away from his apartment, leaving him standing alone at his door with that empty feeling gnawing at his chest. He tried to push those thoughts away, forcing a smile that he hoped looked genuine.

“It was... good,” he said, his voice strained but steady as he tried to keep things light, to play along. He didn't want to reveal how much it hurt, how much he missed you already, and how little he understood what had gone wrong. “I’m hoping to see her again soon.”

“Good?” Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “That's all you got for us? Come on, Reid, you two were practically eye-fucking all night. Don’t tell me nothing happened after we left.”

Spencer's stomach twisted painfully at the mention, but he kept his smile plastered on, his eyes darting between Derek, JJ, and Emily, who were all watching him like hawks. It stung—the teasing, the jokes, all the assumptions that this was some carefree fling. But he nodded along, chuckling softly, trying to play the part they wanted to see. “Yeah, well... we, uh, definitely had fun,” he said, voice dipping into a joking tone to cover up how much it hurt to talk about. “I mean, we’ll see what happens. But yeah, I’d like to see her again.”

“Yeah, you better,” JJ added with a teasing smile. “Don’t let her get away, Spence. She seemed really into you.”

Spencer could only nod, his jaw clenching as he forced another smile, wishing he could know what was going on in your mind—whether you felt the same tug he did, the same yearning to make this more than just a fleeting encounter. But he didn’t know, and it left him trying to walk the tightrope between hope and disappointment, pretending like he was confident it would all work out when he had no idea if he’d ever see you again. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, more to himself than to anyone else. “I hope so too.” 

And with that, he settled down at his desk, burying himself in case files and paperwork, doing his best to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest—an ache that wouldn’t go away until he knew for sure whether that night was a beginning or just a beautiful, painful end.

—

It was a slow, uneventful morning until Hotch's computer decided to crash—a rare occurrence, almost as if it was a twist of fate. Penelope Garcia had called in sick, leaving the team without their usual tech support, and within minutes, someone had dialed down to IT, asking for assistance. And that someone, by sheer luck or cruel coincidence, was you. 

You hadn't seen Spencer since that night two weeks ago, since you’d slipped out of his apartment with all the confused, conflicting emotions weighing you down. And now, you were walking into the lion’s den again, nervous energy buzzing in your veins as you stepped off the elevator and into the BAU's office. 

You did a quick sweep, your eyes flickering around the bullpen, half hoping to catch sight of him, half praying you wouldn't. But Spencer wasn’t there. Relief flooded you, though it didn't completely ease the tension that coiled in your chest as you made your way to Hotch’s office, trying to keep your head down and your nerves at bay.

Inside the office, Hotch greeted you with his usual calm, professional manner, moving aside to let you work on his computer. You kept your focus on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard as you tried to fix whatever issue had brought you there. In the background, you could hear the faint chatter of the team, the sounds blending into an indistinct hum as you concentrated on the task at hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had just returned from the breakroom, a cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes wandering across the bullpen as he made his way to his desk. Emily couldn’t resist the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, Reid,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye, leaning over to speak low enough for only him to hear. “Your girl’s here.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat at her words. “What?” he asked, his voice hitching slightly as he glanced around, searching for you. He’d all but given up hope on seeing you again, the past two weeks of silence gnawing at him more than he cared to admit. And now, suddenly, there you were. His mind raced, torn between the rush of excitement and the cold twinge of nerves that settled in his stomach. What was he supposed to say? Would you even want to see him after how things had ended?

Before he could think too much about it, you emerged from Hotch’s office, closing the door softly behind you. You kept your eyes trained downward, trying to make yourself small, invisible. If you could just get back to the elevators without making a scene, maybe you could get out of there with your dignity intact. But, of course, luck wasn’t on your side today.

“Hey! IT’s finest!” Derek’s booming voice called out from across the bullpen, drawing all eyes to you instantly. You stopped in your tracks, cringing internally as a dozen pairs of eyes turned in your direction. Spencer’s included.

You forced a smile, though you could feel the tension behind it, as you made your way over to Derek, who was wearing a wide, friendly grin. “Hey, uh... how's it going?” you said, trying to sound casual even though your voice wavered slightly. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, and it took all your willpower not to look in his direction. Not yet.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. “You know, just solving crimes, catching bad guys. The usual.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “So... what's a pretty thing like you doing back here? Finally caved and came to see our boy Reid?”

Your face heated instantly, and you let out an awkward laugh, shaking your head. “No, no, just... just fixing Hotch’s computer,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Nothing more exciting than that, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But come on, don’t tell me you’re just here for tech support.” 

You could feel the tension in your shoulders tighten, and you stole a quick, hesitant glance at Spencer. He was standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on you, and there was something soft, almost hopeful in the way he looked at you. It made your heart clench, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

“Uh...” You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together, to keep things professional. “Yeah, just here for the tech support today. Don’t want to distract you guys from your very important crime-solving.” You flashed another smile, this one a little tighter, hoping that Derek would let it go, that he wouldn’t push any further. 

But it was clear from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to make it that easy. “Right,” he said, leaning back in his chair, dragging out the word and giving Spencer a sidelong glance. “But maybe you could let Reid walk you out. Y’know, since you’re here and all.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and you felt the eyes of the team flicker between you and Spencer, waiting for one of you to say something, to acknowledge the elephant in the room. And there it was—your chance, your opening. But all you could do was stand there, your mouth dry, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out what to do next.

“Sure,” Spencer said quickly, nodding before his nerves could make him hesitate, walking up to you and motioning for you to follow him. The entire bullpen was alive with curiosity, but he just needed to get you out of there, to talk to you without the eyes and teasing of the team on him. You let your feet carry you forward, not thinking too much about what was happening, just moving, as if the mere act of walking with him would help you find the right words.

When the two of you reached the elevators, safely out of earshot of the others, Spencer hit the button, and the metallic doors loomed before you both, a quiet hum in the background as you stood there in a tense, uncertain silence. “How are you?” he asked after a beat, his voice gentle, like he was feeling his way through the dark.

“Good, yeah,” you said with a small smile, nodding, trying to seem relaxed, like seeing him again wasn’t sending your heart into overdrive. “You?”

“Alright,” he said, but the word felt tight on his tongue, and the forced smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shifted on his feet, nervous but determined to get the words out. “Listen... uh, I would love to see you again.” His eyes searched yours, hopeful but guarded, waiting to see how you would respond, the words hanging between you like a fragile thread.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the unexpected proposal, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your expression neutral. See you again? What did he mean—see you like a date? See you like the last time? The possibility twisted your insides, and you tried to tamp down your excitement, afraid of reading into something that wasn’t there. “Like, um, like a friends with benefits kind of thing?” you asked, your voice dropping to a hush, your eyes darting away from his as you felt your cheeks flush.

Spencer’s eyes widened at the suggestion, and for a moment, he felt his heart crack painfully in his chest. Friends with benefits. The words echoed in his mind, a harsh reminder that maybe that was still all you saw him as—someone to fulfill a physical need, no strings attached. But he cleared his throat quickly, trying to hide the disappointment and keep his voice steady. If that was what you wanted, then he would take it, even if it wasn’t the everything he had hoped for. “If that’s what you want, yeah,” he said, nodding, his tone measured, trying to keep the hurt from creeping in.

You nodded slowly, mulling over the suggestion in your mind, and Spencer could see the wheels turning, the way you bit your lip as you processed. “Here,” you said suddenly, your voice sharper as you reached for your bag. “Let me give you my number. That way, um, we don’t have any more... mix-ups.”

Spencer fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone, and as he handed it to you, your fingers brushed for just a second, and he felt that familiar warmth between you, the spark that had drawn you together in the first place. He watched as you entered your number into his contacts, typing quickly, and he couldn’t help the tightness in his throat, that small flare of hope that maybe—just maybe—this could still turn into something more.

—

It didn’t turn into more. Whatever fragile hope Spencer had harbored that morning at the elevators was soon buried beneath a pattern—one that quickly set the boundaries of what you and he were to each other. It became late nights where desire spoke louder than words, where you tangled together in sheets, sweaty limbs intertwining as your bodies moved in frenzied desperation, searching for relief in each other’s touch.

There were stolen moments in showers, hurried, steam-filled exchanges that left the water cold by the end. The couches became your playground, backs arching and cries muffled into cushions. Once, in a fit of passion, you even found yourselves in his car, fogging up the windows until the world outside was nothing but a blurred haze of headlights and stars. And then there was that one reckless, electrifying night when you found yourselves in an empty office at the bureau, your hands gripping the edge of a desk as Spencer pressed into you from behind, your lips swollen from rough, unrestrained kisses.

It was hot, it was desperate, it was everything you could’ve ever asked for physically—but it was also never enough. And that was the problem. 

Each time you met, you felt yourself slipping further, falling harder, wanting more than just his body. It was becoming impossible to ignore the way you longed for the tenderness in his eyes, the way you craved his words, his thoughts, the parts of him he only showed in stolen, fleeting glimpses when you let your guard down for just a moment. And that longing terrified you. So you built up walls, retreating into the comfort of what was familiar and safe, convincing yourself that if you just kept things purely physical, if you kept your heart locked away, you wouldn’t have to feel the ache of wanting more than he was willing to give.

You started avoiding his gaze during your meetings, your eyes focused on the patterns of the ceiling, on the textures of the sheets, anywhere but on the way he looked at you with those wide, searching eyes, like he was begging you for something you knew he didn’t actually want. You chose to face away more often, burying your face in pillows, letting your hair cover the expressions you couldn’t bear to let him see. You kissed him less, keeping the physicality to hurried touches, heated grinding, and the frantic moments just before release. It was easier that way, you told yourself. Easier to pretend this was only sex, that you could handle it, that this was all you needed.

And you focused on the penetration, not intimacy—because that was the safe part, the part you could control. You held back from the slow, lingering touches, from the tender kisses that came after, from the whispered words of comfort and vulnerability that would only make you fall further. 

But Spencer noticed. He noticed every time you turned your face away, every time you shied from his kisses, every time you hurried to get dressed afterward as if you couldn’t stand to linger in his embrace for a second longer. He wanted to hold you, to pull you close, to ask you to stay. But every time he tried, every time he leaned in for more, he felt you pull away, felt you retreat back into that familiar distance, and each time his heart cracked a little bit more.

He tried to tell himself it was fine—that this was what you wanted, that this was all he deserved. He tried to lose himself in the pleasure, to focus on the way you felt around him, the sounds you made, the desperate way you held onto him as you came. But it was getting harder to ignore the ache that settled deep in his chest, the realization that no matter how often you came to him, no matter how many nights you spent tangled together, you would never feel more for him. Not the way he felt for you.

And so every meeting felt bittersweet—a desperate, beautiful lie that neither of you was willing to confront, even as it tore both of you apart piece by piece. You gave Spencer your body, but he wanted your heart. And every time you left his bed, leaving him alone in the darkness, he felt himself break a little more, knowing that, to you, he would never be more than just a hookup.

Even when you hung out with his team, those nights at O’Keefe’s where you and Spencer would laugh, joke, and play along with whatever assumptions the team had about you—those were the nights when everything felt right, even if it was all a pretense. There was an unspoken understanding between you both: in front of the team, you were allowed to touch each other casually, to drape an arm over his shoulder, to tease him playfully. You could let your walls down just enough to give the illusion of a couple, and it made things easier, simpler. And perhaps that was the irony of it all—pretending to be in love felt more real than any of the other moments you shared in the dark, tangled up in each other but hiding everything you really felt.

Those nights were both of your favorites, even if neither of you ever admitted it. You could spend hours at the booth, letting your fingers brush his under the table, leaning into him when he said something that made you laugh, seeing the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you. It felt natural, like you could actually be yourselves without the pressure of whatever complicated mess lay beneath the surface. You could talk—really talk. About books, movies, things you loved, things you hated. You’d tell each other stories, recounting things from your childhoods or sharing jokes that left you breathless with laughter, and you’d feel so comfortable, so close, that it almost felt like everything was normal, like everything was real.

And for Spencer, those were the nights when he could feel you—really feel you—in a way he never could when you were both alone. Because as much as he cherished the physical closeness you shared behind closed doors, the passion and the desperate intimacy of your bodies entwined, it was in these fleeting, stolen moments at O’Keefe’s that he felt closest to your heart. When you would reach for his hand under the table and smile softly at him, or when you would brush a lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers lingering on his skin, he could almost convince himself that you felt the same way he did—that this wasn’t just some elaborate charade.

But those nights would always end the same way: you and Spencer leaving together, waving goodbye to the team as if you were a couple heading home for the night, leaving them with knowing smiles and half-teasing jokes. But the minute you were alone, away from prying eyes, the reality would settle back in. You’d let go of his hand. You’d pull away, your laughter softening into something more guarded, more careful. And eventually, no matter how close the two of you got, no matter how much you both secretly wanted to stay together, you would leave. 

You would leave him alone at the end of the night—because you had to. Because letting things be more, letting things get real, meant giving up the safety of your carefully constructed distance. So you’d walk away, your heart heavy with the knowledge that the moments you cherished most were always fleeting, always just a little too far out of reach.

And Spencer would stand there, alone in the cold night, watching you go, holding on to the ghost of your touch and the bittersweet ache of wanting more. Because he knew, deep down, that these nights were all you would ever have, and he’d take them—even if they were only pretend, even if they left him lonelier than before.

One particular night, after a long day of cases and a gnawing loneliness that seemed to cling to him like a shadow, Spencer found himself needing more than just the physical—he needed to feel loved, to hear the affection you kept locked away in those moments when you were the most vulnerable. He needed something real, something that reminded him that this wasn’t just sex, even if only for a moment. He needed to feel like you were both giving something to each other.

You were on top of him, your bodies pressed tightly together, but Spencer’s mind was far from just the feeling of your skin on his. He craved that intimacy from your first night together—the way you’d whispered his name like a prayer, like it was the only thing you could think of, the only word that existed in that moment. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you in a slow, needy rhythm, his voice catching in his throat as he whispered, “Say my name... please, sweetheart. Just... please.”

But you shook your head, your movements hitching slightly as you tried to keep the steady pace between you, the friction that grounded you in the moment. “No,” you said simply, and it came out firm, leaving no room for ambiguity. It wasn’t a game this time, not a playful challenge like it had been before. It was the truth, and the truth was, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Saying his name made things too real—it cracked open the walls you’d built around your heart, made it harder to keep your feelings for him hidden.

Spencer’s face fell, but he masked it quickly, trying not to let his disappointment show. He gave a small, tight nod, and didn’t push for more, didn’t beg you the way he wanted to. He kept his hands on your hips, holding you close as you rocked against him, but something in him broke fully that night. A bitter realization set in—one that twisted the love he felt for you into something darker, something sharp and painful. 

He began to resent you. He resented you for how much he loved you, how he’d let himself fall so deeply for someone who couldn’t, wouldn’t, give him anything more than her body. He resented the way he craved your touch, the way you had become the person he wanted to see after every case, the person he wanted to come home to. And most of all, he resented how much of himself he was willing to give, only to be met with the cold reminder that this was all it would ever be to you—a hookup, a distraction, never more.

The resentment didn’t come all at once. It crept in like a slow poison, staining every moment you shared, every kiss you almost pressed to his skin, every time you left his bed without a backward glance. He started to pull away, his touches less gentle, his eyes more distant, and it became harder to ignore the walls you’d built between you both. But still, he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t stop wanting you, couldn’t stop hoping that one day, maybe, you would say his name the way he so desperately wanted you to—like he was more than just a body beneath yours, like he meant something.

And so the nights went on, tangled in bedsheets and longing, both of you pretending not to notice the widening chasm between desire and what lay underneath it. But for Spencer, it became clear—painfully, heartbreakingly clear—that loving you was something he’d have to endure quietly, silently, as you continued to offer him your body but never your heart.

—

The night at O’Keefe’s was supposed to be like any other—one of the rare occasions you still went out with the team, where the drinks flowed freely, and everyone could let loose. You sat at the booth as you tried to laugh at Derek’s jokes, nod at JJ’s stories, pretend that everything was fine. But then you saw it—the way Spencer’s eyes lingered on the bartender as he got another drink, the slight lean-in of his body when they laughed at something he said. The way he flashed them that special smile you thought he reserved for you—the way they winked at him when they passed him his drink.

It broke you. Completely shattered the fragile facade you’d held on to for weeks. Your stomach churned at the sight, your heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. He cares so little about me, you thought bitterly, that he could flirt right in front of me? And then what? Take me home afterward, like nothing had happened? Like I'm just a convenient body? 

As Spencer made his way back to the table, a satisfied, secret smile on his face—one that once would have made your heart flutter but now only made you feel sick—you couldn’t hold it together anymore. You shot up from your seat, brushing past him, barely able to mutter an excuse. He reached out for you, but you shook off his touch, your only focus on getting outside, on breathing, on escaping the sudden wave of tears that threatened to choke you.

“What was that about?” Emily asked, a frown forming as she watched you hurry away.

Spencer shrugged, his smile faltering as he looked back at the table, feeling a pang of anxiety. “I... I don’t know,” he said honestly, staring after you, his brow furrowing.

The team exchanged glances, and JJ leaned over, her voice gentle as she said, “Maybe you should go check on her, Spence. She’s your girlfriend; she probably needs you right now.”

Spencer’s mouth went dry at the word “girlfriend.” They all assumed—had assumed for months—that you were together, that you were a real couple. But in this moment, it didn’t matter what label they had put on it; it only mattered that something was wrong. He didn’t know why, but he needed to find out.

When he got outside, he saw you standing against the wall, your back to him, hands covering your face as you took deep, shaking breaths. The cold air turned every exhale into tiny clouds, and your shoulders trembled slightly as you tried to hold yourself together.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice barely carrying above the nighttime sounds of the city. He didn’t want to startle you, but you whipped your head to look at him instantly, your eyes wide and pained, before you quickly turned away again, swiping at your face like you could erase all evidence of the tears.

“Are you okay?” Spencer tried again, taking a tentative step closer, his voice laced with concern.

“Yup,” you replied, voice wobbling against your hardest attempts to sound steady, your eyes darting upward, desperate to stop the tears from falling again. 

“Why are you out here?” Spencer's tone was gentle, and you hated how much care was in it. You hated how much you still wanted to hear it, even now.

“Just needed some air,” you said with a sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper. But it trembled, and you knew he could hear it. 

Spencer moved closer, finally getting a clear look at your face, at the tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. “You’re crying,” he said softly, like he couldn't quite believe it.

You nodded slowly, and finally, you faced him fully, unable to hold back the swell of emotions any longer. “Um. I’m so sorry,” you said quickly, wiping the fresh tears away with the back of your hand.

Spencer’s brow furrowed deeper in confusion, and he took a step closer, wanting to reach for you but stopping short. “Why? Did something happen?”

You let out a bitter laugh, one that was more sob than amusement. “Yeah. I—uh, I fell in love with you.” The words tumbled out in a rush, harsh and ragged, and the moment they were out, you regretted it, wished you could take them back, swallow them down. But it was too late.

Spencer stood there, completely stunned, his face paling as he tried to process your words. “What?” he whispered, voice cracking on the word. He felt like the ground had just shifted beneath him, and he was scrambling to understand, to catch up to everything you were saying.

“It’s fine,” you said hurriedly, holding up a hand as if to stop him from saying anything more. “You don’t have to say it back or anything. I know you don’t feel the same. I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry.” Your lip wobbled, and you bit down on it hard, willing the tears to stay at bay. “Just—seeing you flirt with that bartender...”

Spencer’s face tightened, and he shook his head quickly. “I wasn’t,” he said, clearing his throat, trying to find the words. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“It’s okay, Spencer.” You felt another sob rise in your throat, and you pressed your hand over your mouth to stifle it. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not your girlfriend.”

Spencer bit his tongue, the words he wanted to say lodged painfully in his throat. He didn’t know how to tell you everything he felt, how to bridge the chasm that had grown between you over these past months. But as he stood there, looking at you with tears streaming down your face, the frustration and hurt bubbled up inside of him, and a bitter anger began to mix with the sadness. You were the one who pushed me away, he thought, the one who kept pretending not to care, and now you wanted to be angry at me?

“Do you...” Spencer started, swallowing thickly, the words like sandpaper on his tongue. “Do you still want to see each other?” He knew it was the wrong thing to ask, that it cut too close to the surface, but he needed to know. Needed to know if you wanted to keep doing this—whatever this was.

“For sex?” you scoffed, your voice cracking as you looked at him, the accusation plain on your face.

He nodded noncommittally, his face tight, unable to mask the frustration that twisted inside him. 

And that was it. You let out a sob, turning your face away from him, your shoulders shaking as you pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle the sounds. Without another word, you walked away quickly, your steps hurried and uneven as if you needed to get as far away from him as possible. 

Spencer stayed rooted to the spot, his feet unwilling to move, his mind racing with everything he should’ve said but didn’t. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you how much he loved you, how he’d been holding back because he was afraid you didn’t feel the same. But he didn’t. He just watched you go, the cold air biting at his cheeks, his breath puffing out in desperate clouds as he let you walk away. 

And he felt that sick, familiar emptiness settle in again—worse than before, knowing he’d just let you slip through his fingers.

Eventually Spencer walked back into O’Keefe’s like he was on autopilot, like someone else was moving his body for him while he watched from a distance. The noise of the bar—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation—washed over him like static, muted and hollow. All he could feel was the cold emptiness in his chest, the lingering sting of your words echoing in his mind. I fell in love with you... It's fine, you don't have to say it back. 

He sat down at the booth mechanically, his movements jerky and disconnected, and immediately felt the eyes of his team on him. The questions came quickly, concern laced in every voice, but Spencer could hardly focus on any of them, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“Hey, kid, what happened?” Derek’s voice cut through the fog, his tone gentle but firm, and Spencer felt the weight of his gaze, the protective instinct of a friend who could sense something was very wrong.

Spencer didn’t look up as he answered, staring blankly at the beer bottle in front of him. “She wasn’t feeling good,” he mumbled, hoping his voice didn’t waver. “She... left.”

“What?” JJ’s voice was soft but urgent, leaning in to catch his eyes. “Did something happen between you two?”

“I’m fine,” Spencer replied quickly, almost too quickly, forcing a tight-lipped smile that looked more like a grimace. He took a sip of his drink, the bitter taste filling his mouth, but it did nothing to dull the ache in his chest. “She just... wasn’t feeling well. Needed to go home.”

The team fell into a tense silence, and he could feel their eyes on him, searching, probing for the real reason behind your sudden departure. Everyone had seen you two together, had seen the way you’d looked at each other. It was an unspoken truth, and now, they could all tell something had changed, something was deeply wrong.

“Spence...” JJ began again, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away slightly, trying to maintain what little composure he still had.

“Really, I’m fine,” he said, the words sharp in a way that was unlike him. He didn't want to talk about it, didn’t want to let the floodgates open and risk breaking down right here, in front of everyone. The team exchanged uneasy glances, but they didn’t push, sensing that this wasn’t just a lovers’ spat, that whatever had happened between you and Spencer was something bigger than they could grasp.

And so they let him be, filling the silence with half-hearted jokes and forced smiles as they tried to keep the night light, but the tension sat heavy between them. All the while, Spencer just sat there, staring into his drink, feeling like he was watching someone else go through the motions of this moment. Like the real him was still outside, staring after you as you walked away, trying to figure out when everything had gone so wrong.

—

You love him?

The words played on a loop in Spencer’s head, each syllable echoing through the empty spaces you’d left behind. You told him that night, outside O’Keefe’s, voice thick with hurt and vulnerability. You, the woman who occupied his thoughts, who made him feel things he’d never felt for anyone else—you loved him. And he’d just let you walk away.

He'd stood there stunned that night, unable to speak, unable to process the revelation that the woman he’d reluctantly, desperately fallen for felt the same way. In the days that followed, he convinced himself that it was for the best, that maybe this was the closure he needed. You’d go back to your separate lives, and he'd be free of the endless cycle of wanting more than you could give. Maybe he'd be able to finally move on.

But that conviction was short-lived. It only took a few days of silence, a few nights spent staring up at the ceiling of his apartment, to realize how hollow that freedom was. And the weeks that passed after that night only twisted the knife deeper. 

When there was an issue with the team’s tech and Penelope wasn’t around, it wasn’t you who showed up to fix it. It was some other IT person—someone with none of your charm, none of your wit. No one who would tease him, brush your fingers lightly against his arm as you leaned over his keyboard. And when they walked in, clipboard in hand, an unfamiliar face staring back at him, the ache in Spencer’s chest grew. He’d check his phone constantly, almost obsessively, hoping for a text, an email, anything. But his inbox remained empty, the silence between you growing deeper and more suffocating each day.

He started noticing the way his team watched him—the way they traded glances when he walked into the bullpen with his usual cup of coffee, the way their conversations dipped into softer tones when he came near. It was pity. Pity for the man who let his girlfriend walk away, who didn’t know how to make it right. They didn't know the truth—that you were never really his girlfriend. That you were never really his at all.

He missed you. He missed you so much that it became unbearable, the absence of you like a phantom limb—something he could still feel, but couldn’t hold, couldn’t touch. He missed the way you’d laugh with the team at O’Keefe’s, the way your eyes would meet his across the table, a secret smile shared between the two of you. He missed the way your hair would brush against his cheek when you leaned in to whisper something in his ear, the way your lips felt on his when the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled together.

And suddenly, O’Keefe’s wasn’t fun anymore. It was just another reminder of what he’d lost. Every time he walked in, he’d expect to see you there—half-hoping, half-dreading the sight of you. But you never came. You never showed, and it left an emptiness in the seat beside him that no one else could fill. 

The nights became the worst part. The silence in his apartment was deafening. He would lie in bed, replaying every moment you’d shared, every touch, every laugh, every whispered word. He could still see the way you’d looked at him when you told him you were in love with him—how your voice wavered with fear, how you tried to cover it up with a laugh as if you could take the words back as soon as they left your lips. He’d let you say them, he’d heard the truth in them, and still, he let you walk away. What kind of fool lets the person they love walk away?

And so it hit him, with a force that left him breathless: Even if you kept him at an arm’s length forever, even if you could never give him everything he wanted, he would still want you. He didn’t need you to be perfect, didn’t need you to promise him the world—he just needed you. The way you made him laugh, the way you challenged him, the way you made his life feel full and bright and real. Even if it meant spending more nights pretending and holding back, Spencer would take it all just to have you close.

Because a life without you—without your smile, your laugh, your presence—is a life he no longer wanted to live. He missed you. He loved you. And he was willing to fight for you, even if it meant picking up the broken pieces of what you both had shattered, putting them back together in any way that would keep you from slipping through his fingers again.

Once Spencer made up his mind, there was a fire inside him—a determination to make things right, to get you back, to show you that he was willing to do whatever it took. He’d spent too many weeks stuck in silence, stuck in regret, and if there was even the smallest chance you’d have him back, he was ready to fight for it. He was already forming a plan in his mind, trying to figure out the words to say, the way to make you see that he’d give you everything he had, no matter how messy or complicated it got.

But before he could put that plan into action, it all came crashing down around him.

It was Penelope who stopped him in his tracks. He’d been pacing the bullpen, trying to work up the nerve to figure out how to reach out to you—how to make that first move—when he saw the look on her face. She was standing near her desk, files forgotten in her hands, her eyes fixed on him with that soft, all-too-knowing expression. And it was enough to make his stomach twist uncomfortably, anxiety clawing at his chest.

“What’s up, Garcia?” he asked, hesitantly, trying to keep his voice steady as he approached her.

She gave him a sympathetic smile, the kind of smile that said she knew far more than she was letting on, and it made Spencer's heart sink. He hated that look, the pity, the way it made him feel like he was already defeated. “Did you hear?” she asked, her voice gentle, as if she was trying to break bad news without shattering him completely.

“...hear what?” he replied, suddenly on edge, the nerves tightening in his chest like a vice. He felt like the floor was slipping out from under him, and he braced himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Oh, honey.” Penelope sighed deeply, placing a hand over her heart as if the words hurt her as much as they were about to hurt him. “Tony in IT asked Y/N out.”

And just like that, Spencer felt his entire world tilt, his heart dropping straight to his stomach. It felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of him, leaving him stunned and spinning. He was too late. 

“Tony?” he whispered, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “They... they asked her out?” 

Penelope nodded, looking at him with that same expression—so much pity, so much sympathy that it made him want to scream. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “I heard it from them this morning. They said she seemed like she could use a night out, so they asked her.” 

Spencer’s mind raced, every thought muddling together, tangled up in the image of you and Tony, smiling, laughing, kissing. He could barely think straight. Tony—some other person—getting the chance to be close to you, to make you happy. Someone else doing what he’d been too afraid to do. And he knew Tony; they were charming, easygoing, exactly the type of person who could sweep you off your feet, and that thought twisted the knife deeper.

“Did she... did she say yes?” Spencer asked, barely recognizing his own voice, which came out quiet and small, barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Penelope said, her hand gently touching his arm. “But... Spencer, I just thought you should know. In case...” She trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence, because Spencer understood exactly what she meant. In case it was too late. In case Tony had already taken the place he’d left open.

He stood there, numb, the walls of the bullpen closing in on him as reality settled in like a heavy weight on his chest. He was too late, and the plan he’d spent days building up in his mind shattered into pieces at his feet, leaving him standing in the wreckage of what could’ve been.

—

You stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, not knowing exactly how to respond to Tony’s hopeful smile. Their offer to take you out caught you off guard, and for a moment you just stared at them, trying to form a polite letdown that wouldn’t hurt their feelings. After all, you thought to yourself, Tony was one of the nicest people in the building. 

“Oh, Tony,” you sighed eventually, feeling a wave of guilt for having to reject their offer. “That is so sweet, I’m just... not looking for anything right now.”

Tony’s smile didn’t falter for a second. They nodded their head, understanding written all over their face as if they’d half expected your answer. “That’s alright!” They said quickly, raising their hands in a surrendering gesture. “We could still go out as friends. You seem like you could use one.”

The kindness in their voice, the way they looked at you like they genuinely wanted to help, made your heart warm. You hadn’t expected them to pivot so easily, to offer friendship instead of romance, and it felt... nice. Like maybe you weren’t as alone as you felt. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t quite pin down. “I—I do need a friend. That would be great.”

It had been a miserable few weeks, a spiral of regret and heartbreak after you’d confessed your love to Spencer. The words had slipped out before you could stop them, unguarded and vulnerable, and you had no idea what you were thinking when you said it. All you knew was that watching him flirt with someone else made something in you snap, and suddenly all those bottled-up emotions had spilled out, uncontrolled. But the second the words were in the air, you’d known it was a mistake. You were perfectly content to hold it back forever, to let your love for him simmer quietly in the background if it meant keeping Spencer in your life. But now? Now you’d ruined everything. Your feelings had scared him away, pushed him to his limits, and left you standing in the wake of it all, heartbroken and alone.

Tony’s kind offer was the first real light you’d had in weeks, and as you met their warm, friendly eyes, you felt a small sense of relief. You could use a friend—someone who didn’t come with all the baggage of unrequited love, someone who just wanted to spend time with you without expectations.

“Do you want to go to O’Keefe’s?” Tony suggested, their smile widening.

You shook your head quickly, feeling a lump form in your throat at the thought of that place. Too many memories, you thought, and the idea of walking in there without Spencer, without pretending you were a couple in front of the team, or, God, running into him, felt like too much. “No, uh, I go there too much,” you said with a forced laugh, trying to keep your tone light. “Let’s try something new, yeah?”

Tony nodded, the same easy smile still on their face, and you felt a flicker of hope—maybe this would be good for you. Maybe spending time with someone who wanted nothing more than friendship would help you heal, help you forget all the mess and confusion that Spencer left behind. Maybe you could start to feel like yourself again. Or at least pretend.

—

You hadn’t gotten dressed up in weeks—not since that night. Ever since then, you hadn’t felt the need to look nice for anyone. After all, who was there to impress when you weren't leaving the house? Your days blurred together in a cycle of work, staying in, and trying to forget the ache that came with remembering. So you fell into a pattern of sweatpants, oversized shirts, and fuzzy socks. 

But tonight was different. You wanted to make an effort, to show Tony that you appreciated their kindness, their willingness to be there for you without expecting anything in return. So you stood in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection as you did your hair, fixed your face and slipped into an outfit that made you feel like yourself again—put together, confident, maybe even a little happy.

When you met Tony at the place they suggested, a new bar called Brandy’s, you couldn’t help but laugh at how different it was from O’Keefe’s. It was sailor-themed, with ropes hanging from the ceiling, ship wheels mounted on the walls, and bartenders dressed in sailor uniforms, stripes and all. The vibe was lighter, more playful, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t need to be weighed down by memories tonight—you just wanted to relax and forget about everything for a little while.

“Hey!” Tony called out when they saw you walking in, waving from the bar. You made your way over, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Hey,” you greeted back, sliding onto the barstool beside them. “This place is... something.”

Tony grinned, sliding a drink menu your way. “Yeah, thought it’d be a fun change of pace. And, uh, if you’re in the mood for anything fruity or with a silly name, this is definitely the place.”

You chuckled, scanning the menu. “Well, in that case, I might just have to try whatever sounds the most ridiculous.” 

The two of you laughed, and for a brief moment, the pain of the last few weeks faded into the background. You weren’t just the girl who told Spencer Reid she loved him and was left with the silence afterward. Tonight, you were just you—someone who could enjoy a night out with a new friend, a fruity cocktail, and maybe even the chance to find a little bit of joy again.

You sipped your Seas the Day, topped with a tiny paper anchor and an unnecessary but charming amount of fruit garnish—and let the flavors wash over your tongue. It was sweet, tangy, and almost too much, but it was exactly what you needed to cut through the weight that had been pressing down on your chest for weeks. And as Tony launched into another joke, punctuating each punchline with an easy laugh, you could feel that weight start to melt away, just a little bit.

“And then, get this,” Tony continued, eyes bright as they leaned closer, “the guy looks at the bartender and says, ‘You call that a shipwreck? Looks more like a dinghy disaster to me!’” 

You couldn't help but burst out laughing, the ridiculousness of the joke amplified by Tony’s delivery. It was silly, light, and the kind of humor that didn’t require you to overthink or analyze or worry—just laugh. And it felt good. The kind of good that had been missing for so long, you almost forgot what it felt like.

The stress that had been holding your shoulders tight seemed to leave with each sip of your drink, each joke that Tony threw your way. They were a natural storyteller, bringing every moment to life with wild hand gestures and exaggerated voices that made you forget where you were, who you were supposed to be missing. The bar around you blurred into background noise, a sea of laughter and warmth, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you were floating—untethered from the thoughts of regret, from the sadness of everything that happened with Spencer. 

It was nice, being around someone who didn’t ask for more, who didn’t know the messy, tangled history you were trying to leave behind. Tony’s company was easy, free from expectation. And as you laughed over their jokes and sipped your drink, you let yourself relax into it, letting the night carry you away to a place where your heart didn't feel so heavy. Even if it was just for tonight, it was enough.

You and Tony stumbled out of Brandy’s hours later, practically hanging off each other in a giggling mess. The night had been a perfect distraction, and you were grateful to Tony for every dumb joke, every ridiculous story. The cool night air hit your face, making you laugh even harder as you both swayed down the sidewalk, your head light from the drinks and the company. 

But your laughter stopped cold when you heard your name called out from behind you. You froze, your smile faltering as you turned your head to see Spencer and his team, clustered together on the sidewalk just a short way down. For a second, you just stared, feeling like the world had paused around you. It seemed you weren’t the only one searching for a new spot to drown out reality tonight. You could see the surprise etched on their faces—JJ, Emily, Derek, Penelope—and Spencer, whose eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart jump in your chest. You could practically feel the tension crackling between you, hanging heavy in the air like fog, and it made your stomach twist.

But Tony was blissfully unaware, their good mood carrying them right through the awkwardness as they spotted Penelope. “Penny!” Tony cheered, bounding over to give her a hug, their voice warm and full of excitement. “What are you doing here? Fancy running into you like this!”

Penelope’s expression softened at Tony’s hug, but you could see the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered between you, Tony, and Spencer. You followed Tony like a shadow, your smile fading into something tight and uncomfortable as you kept your eyes downcast, trailing behind and watching your feet move over the pavement. You couldn't look at Spencer, couldn’t face the way his expression would cut through you. So you just kept your focus on Tony’s shoes, willing the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Uh... hey, Tony,” Penelope greeted, a little off-kilter as she glanced over at Spencer, who hadn’t said a word, his face pale and unreadable. You could see her mind racing, torn between wanting to ask Tony about your supposed "date" and trying to protect Spencer from whatever mess was about to unfold. But sweet, tipsy Tony wasn’t picking up on any of it. They were still riding high on the night, blissfully unaware of the tense energy radiating around you all like a storm cloud about to burst.

“Have you guys met Y/N?” Tony asked excitedly, their arm waving in your direction, as if presenting you to a crowd for the first time. “She’s the best—totally fun to go out with. You all should come out with us next time!”

You wanted to sink into the pavement. Your eyes darted up just long enough to see the team's reactions—their hesitant smiles, the uncertainty, the surprise. And Spencer... Spencer just stared, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as they flickered between you and Tony, like he was trying to make sense of the scene in front of him, to piece together how you’d gone from loving him to laughing with someone else. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and all you could do was force a smile and nod along, pretending like this wasn’t the most awkward moment of your life, like you weren’t standing here, your whole heart laid bare and torn apart in front of the very people you’d tried so hard to avoid.

“Yeah, we know Y/N,” JJ said with a smile, trying to keep things light despite the thick tension in the air. She gave a small wave, her eyes soft and encouraging. “Hi.”

“Hey, guys,” you replied, your voice tight and strained, but you managed to look up for just a second, flashing a quick smile at the group. You could see the mix of emotions on their faces—Emily with her raised brow, JJ’s gentle attempt at normalcy, and Derek, his expression far harder to read.

Derek’s face was set in a hardened line as he studied you and Tony, clearly trying to piece together what was going on. “This a date, or something?” he asked bluntly, his tone skeptical as his eyes flicked from you to Spencer, who was standing stiffly to the side, now staring down at the ground.

Tony burst into laughter at that, the sound light and airy, cutting through the tension. “No! I asked Y/N on a date, but she said nooo,” they said, dragging out the word with a playful giggle. “We’re just friends. Really good friends, right?” They turned back to look at you, and their smile was so earnest, so kind, that you felt a small weight lift from your chest.

“Yeah,” you agreed, returning Tony's smile as best you could. “Really good friends.” You were grateful for their lightheartedness, the way they so easily cleared up the misunderstanding without any pressure, any drama. You could almost breathe again.

“Are you ready?” you asked, hoping to get away before the tension could bubble up again, before you had to look at Spencer and face whatever emotions were swirling in his eyes.

Tony nodded enthusiastically, linking their arm through yours as they tugged you gently away, back into the night, in search of a cab. You didn’t look back, even as you could feel the team's eyes burning into your back, the weight of their stares heavy on your shoulders.

As you disappeared around the corner, the team shared glances, murmurs of confusion and disbelief mixing in the cool air. “What the hell was that?” Emily finally said under her breath, crossing her arms and looking at Spencer, who hadn’t moved an inch since you walked away.

“Does anyone know what's going on with them?” JJ asked softly, her concern written plainly on her face as she glanced at each of her teammates.

But Spencer just shook his head, his jaw clenched tight as he stared after you, watching the space you’d disappeared into, as if willing you to come back, to explain, to make everything make sense again. But you were gone, leaving him standing there, alone and uncertain, with the words he wished he’d said still lodged in his throat.

Penelope spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence with a hesitant, thoughtful tone. “Tony told me he asked her out, so I guess it turned out to be a friend date,” she explained, trying to piece together what had happened with as much optimism as she could muster. But her eyes flickered to Spencer, full of concern and an almost desperate need to make things better. “But that’s good, right?” she asked, her voice a little higher than usual, like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

Every pair of eyes turned to Spencer then, and he felt like he was shrinking under their intense stares. He could sense their silent questions, their confusion, and their concern, all boring into him like a spotlight. He didn’t know what to say, how to make it right—he just knew that something felt very wrong. 

Derek’s sigh broke the tension, and his hand landed heavily on Spencer’s shoulder, grounding him. “Listen, kid,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’ve been giving you your space about the breakup, but I think it’s time you talk about it.”

Spencer nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Derek was right. He had kept this locked up for too long, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, suffocating him. So, without another word, the five of them made their way into Brandy’s. They found a booth tucked into a quiet corner and ordered a pitcher of beer, the clinking of glasses and hum of the bar settling into the background as Spencer prepared to speak.

It all came spilling out—the truth, the messy, complicated story of what had really happened between you and him. How you’d started as casual hookups, how that grew into something more, how it was all tangled up in silences and unspoken feelings, until finally, you told him you loved him. And how he let you walk away. He felt the vulnerability of it, laying everything bare, every mistake, every regret, and the team’s reactions were a mix of shock, confusion, and sympathy.

“Why didn’t you tell her how you felt?” Penelope asked softly, her eyes wide and filled with empathy, trying to wrap her head around it all.

Spencer shrugged, staring down into his glass. He wished he could explain it better, wished he could pinpoint the exact moment he decided to let you go, but it was all so muddled now. “I guess I was mad at her,” he said, his voice small, and it hurt to say it out loud, to admit it.

“What for?” Emily asked, leaning in closer, her brows knitting together in concern and bewilderment.

Spencer looked up, meeting each of their eyes before letting his gaze drop back down to his hands, which JJ was now holding tightly, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles on his knuckles. “She... she liked me—loved me—the whole time, or at least some of it, and didn’t tell me,” he admitted, the bitterness of those words tasting sour in his mouth. “I... I thought she just wanted sex, that she didn't care about me the way I cared about her. And then, she told me, and it felt like a lie, like... like she’d been hiding something from me all along.”

Penelope’s face softened in understanding, and JJ squeezed his hands tighter. “But, Spencer,” she said gently, “you were doing the same thing, weren’t you? Hiding how you felt?”

Spencer nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping as the weight of it all settled on him. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I guess I was. And by the time she told me... I was too angry to see it for what it was. I let her walk away because... because I thought I had to protect myself. But I think I just... made everything worse.”

The team sat there in silence, absorbing Spencer’s words, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, of everything that had gone unspoken between you and him. It was Derek who finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a note of gentle insistence. “Well, you gotta tell her now,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

The others nodded in agreement, small hums of assent as they turned their eyes back to Spencer, a mixture of encouragement and urgency on their faces. Emily leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, and tried to lift the mood, offering a teasing suggestion. “Maybe take her coffee tomorrow,” she said, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “She looked like a precursor to a hangover tonight.” 

The attempt at lightening the mood worked; the table filled with quiet giggles, the tension lifting just enough to let out a shared breath. Even Spencer cracked a smile, the knot in his chest loosening just a little as he let himself imagine it—showing up to see you, holding your favorite coffee in his hands like a peace offering, and finally saying all the things he’d held back for so long.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, the word coming out like a sigh of relief. “I was going to tell her, but then Tony asked her out, and I thought I lost my chance.” His smile faltered as he said it, that same feeling of panic creeping back in, that sinking sensation that he’d already missed his window and that any attempt to reach you would be too late, too little. 

“But Tony’s not a threat,” JJ chimed in gently, squeezing his hand again. “You heard them tonight—they’re just friends.”

“Besides, it doesn’t matter who else asks her out,” Derek said, his voice firm as he looked Spencer straight in the eyes. “What matters is how you feel. You love her, man. You gotta tell her that. Don’t let some hang-up stop you from getting what you really want.”

“Yeah, Reid,” Penelope added softly, her voice carrying that loving, encouraging tone that always managed to make him feel safe. “You two... you need to talk. Really talk.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a swell of determination rising within him, the first real sense of hope he’d felt in months. He knew they were right—he had to try. Even if it meant risking rejection, even if it meant being vulnerable in a way he’d never been before, he needed to tell you how he felt.  

So as he sat there, surrounded by his friends, Spencer began to plan how he would show you that he wanted more than just fleeting nights and tangled sheets—he wanted you. All of you. Everything.

—

You woke up to the unpleasant stickiness of dried drool on your face. Your mouth felt like sandpaper, parched from a night of laughter, late hours, and whatever concoction of sugary alcohol you’d downed at Brandy’s. But, thankfully, your half-drunk self had taken care of the essentials the night before, leaving a full water bottle by your bedside. You reached over, popped it open, and chugged gratefully, the water flooding your senses with relief as you rehydrated.

The hangover was mild, nothing too aggressive—it wasn’t like you’d drunk all that much. You knew deep down you’d mostly been drunk on the fun of the night, on Tony’s kindness, on the fleeting joy of having someone distract you from your thoughts, your heartache. It made waking up easier, even if your head throbbed a little when you sat up.

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed, the coolness of the floor grounding you as you stretched, taking your time to shake off the morning fog. You went through the familiar motions: washing your face, brushing your hair, and scrubbing your teeth.

You didn’t have any real plans for the day, just the usual routine of catching up on chores, maybe grabbing coffee later if you felt up for it. But today felt a little lighter, a little easier. And as you made your way into the kitchen, the morning sun spilling through the window and warming the floor beneath your feet, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this day wouldn’t be so hard after all.

But then a knock sounded from the front door of your apartment, startling you. You paused, trying to figure out who it could be. I don’t remember ordering any packages, you thought, and my neighbors barely know I exist. You waited a moment, hoping maybe whoever it was would just leave, but the knock came again—this time more persistent, the sound echoing through your quiet apartment.

You hated answering the door. Not because you were afraid of who might be there, but because you hated the possibility of small talk, the awkwardness of forced pleasantries, the interruptions to your peaceful solitude. It's one of the reasons you went into IT, the comfort of working with machines and problems that could be solved with logic, not conversation. So you stood there for another beat, hoping to hear the telltale sound of retreating footsteps. But there was nothing. Just silence, and then, annoyingly, another knock. 

“God,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you stomped toward the door. Whoever it was, they were persistent, and clearly weren’t getting the hint that you just wanted to be left alone.

You swung open the door, your frustration ready to spill over as you began to speak, “Hello—”

But the words caught in your throat the moment you saw who was standing there.

“Spencer?” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, the shock hitting you like a splash of cold water. There he was, standing right in front of you, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, his face a mixture of hope, nerves, and something unreadable that made your stomach flip. He was holding two cups of coffee, and it felt surreal, like a scene pulled straight from a dream you hadn’t quite woken up from.

“Hi,” he said, offering a small, hesitant smile, and suddenly the world around you seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you standing there, the morning hanging heavy with words unspoken. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion and something close to disbelief. You were still trying to process the fact that Spencer was standing in front of you, holding coffee like this was something normal—something that happened often.

Spencer shifted his weight nervously, glancing down at the two cups in his hands before looking back up at you, searching your face. “I—uh, I thought I’d bring you coffee,” he stammered, the words sounding more like a question than a statement. “To help with... the hangover?” He trailed off, looking at you with those wide, earnest eyes that made it impossible to be mad, even if you wanted to be.

You raised a brow, not quite sure what to make of this sudden gesture. But after a moment, you stepped aside, holding the door open wider. “Okay,” you said, your voice softer now, and gestured for him to come in.

Spencer hesitated just for a second before walking in, and you watched as his eyes moved across the space, taking it all in. The apartment felt different now, seeing it in the daylight. The wide, almost floor-to-ceiling windows were uncovered, letting the morning light stream in and cast warm shadows on the walls. You’d always liked the way the plants scattered around the room bathed in the sunlight, their leaves turning vibrant shades of green, and the way the fabric of the couch gleamed just a bit in the soft light. But Spencer had never seen it like this. He’d only ever been here at night, when the only illumination was the dim glow of lamps and the city lights outside.

“Those are... nice windows,” he said suddenly, as if noticing them for the first time, his eyes lingering on the bright view of the landscape beyond. He sounded almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected your space to be like this—bright, open, comforting and calm.

“Thank you…” you replied, a little awkwardly, still trying to wrap your head around why Spencer was here, in your apartment, holding coffee and making small talk about windows. You took the cup from his hand, your fingers brushing his briefly, and felt that familiar warmth spread up your arm, making your chest feel tight. You wanted to say something—anything—to cut through the tension hanging between you. But you didn’t know where to start. 

You both stood there for a moment, as you searched each other's faces for answers. 

“How are you?” Spencer asked softly, and the simplicity of the question caught you off guard. It was the same question he’d asked months ago, the one that had started everything between you, the beginning of the friends-with-benefits arrangement that had rapidly spiraled. And now, hearing those words again felt like a punch to the gut, bringing all those memories rushing back to the surface.

You froze, trying to decide how to answer. There were a million things you wanted to say, a thousand ways to tell him how hard it had been, how much you missed him, how your heart ached every time you thought about him, and how you’d felt so stupid for letting yourself fall. But the words tangled in your throat, and you didn’t know which to pick.

“I’ve been... better,” you finally said, opting for honesty. What was the point in pretending, anyway? You’d already given up any sense of dignity around this man. You weren’t going to lie to him now, not after everything that had happened, not when he’d come all the way here.

Spencer's eyes softened, his expression turning pained at your words. He took a small step closer, like he wanted to reach out, but his hand hovered just inches from yours before he pulled it back, uncertainty clouding his face. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been... pretty awful, too.”

You looked down, the coffee cup warm in your hands, and nodded. “Yeah, well... that's what happens, I guess,” you mumbled. “When you... you know, ruin everything.” Your laugh came out bitter and hollow as you gestured at yourself, and you hated how raw and vulnerable you felt, like every emotion was sitting on the surface, ready to spill over.

“I don't think you ruined anything,” he said softly, his voice so gentle it made you want to cry. “Or at least... not beyond fixing.” Spencer's gaze was steady, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like he was really seeing you—like the walls you’d both built around yourselves were crumbling, leaving nothing but truth between you. 

You shook your head slightly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears from falling. “Then why are you here, Spencer?” You forced the words out, your voice trembling with every question you’d held back for so long. “Why now? What do you want from me?” 

You hadn’t meant to sound so broken, so defeated, but the way Spencer looked at you made it feel like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be strong anymore. Not with him. And it terrified you, how much you wanted to hear whatever he was going to say next.

“I just want you,” Spencer said, his voice plain and sure, like it was the simplest truth in the world. The words hung between you, raw and unadorned, and for a moment, you could barely breathe, barely process what he'd just said. 

Your eyes met his, searching for any hesitation, any sign that he might take it back—that this was just another moment you’d misread. But there was none. His eyes were steady, intent, and every part of him seemed to lean toward you as if he was ready to close the distance that had kept you apart for so long. 

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart pound painfully in your chest. “Spencer...” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. “But... you said you didn’t... I thought—” The excuses tumbled over themselves in your mind, but none of them could erase the way he was looking at you now, with all the longing and tenderness you’d ever wanted to let yourself see.

Spencer shook his head, taking that last step closer, his body just inches from yours, and this time, there was no hesitation, no fear in his touch. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and you felt the familiar warmth of his fingers against your skin. It was like everything else in the world faded away, leaving just the two of you, in this tiny pocket of time where all that mattered was what you both felt.

“I never got to say anything,” he said softly, his voice low and rough with emotion. “You left before I could.” His thumb stroked your cheek in a tender, slow rhythm, and the touch was so gentle, so careful, it made your heart ache.

“You asked if I wanted to keep having sex,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you forced yourself to look at him, to see the truth in his eyes. 

Spencer let out a breath, one that seemed to carry all the frustration and pain of the past few weeks. “You inferred that that’s what I was asking,” he corrected gently. “And maybe it was, in some way... I don’t know what I was going to say then. I was so conflicted, so... scared. Scared of wanting you, scared of losing you, scared of loving you. But... I’m not anymore,” he continued, and there was a steadiness to his voice now, a certainty that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. “I know what I want. I love you, Y/N.”

The words fell softly between you, but they felt like fireworks going off in your chest, like every broken piece inside you was being stitched back together by the way he said them. And as you stood there, his hand on your cheek, your lips parted in shock and your eyes filled with tears, you could see it—all the love, all the vulnerability, all the things he’d been too afraid to show you before.

Your breath hitched, and you placed your hand over his, pressing his palm tighter against your cheek as you let the truth of his words sink in. “You... you love me?” you asked, as if saying it aloud would make it more real, as if you needed to hear it again to believe that it was really happening. 

Spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he smiled, a small, fragile thing that grew more certain with every second. “I love you,” he repeated, each word clear and steady. “I have for a long time. And I want to be with you, not just... physically, not just as friends with benefits. I want all of it. I want you. Everything.”

You felt a sob building in your throat, but it wasn’t a sad sound—it was relief, joy, everything you’d been holding back crashing over you all at once. And as you leaned in, your lips finding his in a kiss that was soft, tender, and full of all the love that had gone unspoken between you for so long, you felt something fall into place, something that had been missing finally becoming whole.

The kiss deepened, becoming heated and urgent, both of you rediscovering the taste and feel of each other like it was the first time all over again. You could feel the way Spencer’s body leaned into yours, could feel how badly you both wanted to close every inch of space between you. And for a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your hands tangling in his hair, his arm winding around your waist like he never wanted to let you go.

But then you pulled back, breaking the kiss with a shaky breath, pressing your forehead against his as you tried to steady yourself. “Wait, wait,” you managed to say between breaths, “I don’t—don’t want to have sex. Not for a while.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, the confusion clear on his face, but he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his eyes searching yours, and you could see the genuine concern there, the way he was listening to every word. “Okay,” he nodded slowly, voice gentle. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Can I... can I ask why?”

You let out a sigh, trying to find the right words. It was hard to say aloud, especially when the temptation to be with him physically was so strong, when every part of your body ached to feel close to him again. But this was important—this was different. “I just... I want to be with you,” you explained softly, meeting his eyes, wanting him to see how much you meant it. “And get to know you in every other way first. No rushing into things. I want... everything to feel right.”

And there it was—the truth that you’d been holding back for so long. That what you wanted with him wasn’t just fleeting, wasn’t just something that could be captured in a night. You wanted the full, messy, beautiful truth of being with Spencer—without the fear that it was only about the physical.

Spencer’s face softened, his confusion melting away into a wide, affectionate grin, one that filled his whole face with light and made your heart do that little flip it always did whenever he smiled like that. “I am completely on board with that,” he said, his voice full of warmth, no hesitation in his tone. “I’ll take all the time you need. And I’ll be here for all of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a surge of joy and relief bubble up in your chest as you wrapped your arms around him again. “Aye aye, captain,” you teased, and the two of you laughed together, the sound filling the quiet morning and making everything feel hopeful and new.

And as you held each other close, and stood together, just soaking in the moment, you knew that for the first time, you were going to do this right—take your time, learn every little thing about each other, and make it real. 

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[slut4celebs]

Jersey Swap

Sabrina Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1,056 words

Trigger Warnings: nothing but a lot of cute fluff imo, I know nothing about soccer so I left that part kind of short and looked up random players.

Request/Synopsis: "i was thinking like the reader is a really good and famous soccer/football player. Maybe like her a sabrina are in a secret relationship and havent told the public yet so sabrina comes to one of her games wearing her jersey. Then maybe reader goes to her concert and like comes on stage or something idk." - A fic in which Sabrina wears R's to a game and (Y/n) wears a custom made Sabrina jersey to her show.

Requests are open. < Please guys, I'm begging.

Sabrina Carpenter and (Y/n) (L/n) had decided to keep their relationship private over the course of a year due to the backlash over Sabrina's last few relationships and (Y/n) being a much private relationship. However, this was proving to be harder as time has gone on, and they've been wanting to actually go out on dates together or hold hands in public. It was something they had to discuss, but they finally figured out how they would come out as a couple to the fans without giving up their full privacy or hardlaunching on social media. They chose a more demure way to get their point across without giving too many details away or letting the media comment on their posts.

It started with (Y/n)'s soccer game. Sabrina attended with her best friend, Joey King. She wore a custom made jersey with (Y/n)'s last name on it. At one point, during the game, (Y/n) even blew Sabrina a kiss. It was in the little moments, if someone was paying close enough attention, they'd catch it. And saying as women's soccer had a majority of gay watchers, someone was bound to catch up on it pretty soon. Sabrina blew a kiss back, making (Y/n) grin before the coach yelled for her to get her head in the game. Lucky for her, her face was too red from running for it to be too obvious she was blushing from being reprimanded. After the game, (Y/n), Sabrina, and Joey (as well as a few teammates) were pictured at a restaurant.

The next night, there wasn't incredibly commotion on Sabrina and (Y/n). Only a few people caught onto their charade, but their posts weren't reaching anyone yet. (Y/n) pulled on her custom Sabrina Carpenter jersey, lying on her girlfriend's bed. When Sabrina got out of the restroom, having just put on some make-up for soundcheck, she grinned. "I love that on you," she commented happily, leaning down to kiss her girlfriend, who reciprocated the kiss happily. (Y/n) was, admittedly, a sucker for her girlfriend's kisses. She was enamored by everything Sabrina was. She was incredible on stage and off. (Y/n) couldn't help the way she simply admired her girlfriend to the fullest.

At the show, (Y/n) was in a special section alongside her teammate, Naomi Girma. While Girma had some merch on, it was (Y/n) who adorned the custom jersey and had a big kiss mark on her cheek, put there by Sabrina. It was the transition from Dumb & Poetic where Sabrina is pretending to arrest someone from the crowd. That someone happened to be (Y/n). "Um, excuse me, everyone, but do you see that girl in my jersey? Next to that soccer player. Her name is (Y/n)…" She said coyly, being extra flirty on stage. "Girls, girls… See that girl? She's under arrest for being too hot and sexy." She said with a fake pout to her dancers. One holding up pink, fluffy handcuffs. (Y/n) laughed and blushed as Girma shoved her shoulders playfully.

"Oh, my gosh… Ladies, I just… She's so gorgeous that I'm thinking so many inappropriate thoughts right now and- oh my gosh my clothes. My clothes are falling off just with her looking at me." She said, the bottom half of her skirt falling off, leaving her in a shorter skirt. "Jeez, that's so embarrassing… It just falls off when my girlfriend looks at me, guys. Like I'm just so in love, you know? I'll hold onto these for later, baby." She took the handcuffs, smirking slightly when she announced that they were girlfriend's, the agreed upon approach that left (Y/n)'s cheeks burning. She didn't realize it would make her blush so much.

As Juno played, (Y/n) couldn't take her eyes off Sabrina, knowing full well many cameras were on her. Once the show was over, she and Girma were escorted backstage to meet with Sabrina. She hugged her girlfriend, kissing her. "When you said you were going to call me your girlfriend on stage, I wasn't expecting that." She flicked her shoulder playfully, a huge grin decorating her lips as she looked over her mischievous girlfriend.

Sabrina had an impish smile on her face, holding up the handcuffs playfully. (Y/n) blushed darker as Girma snorted at the scene in front of her. "That's your own fault. I told you to I was going to do it in a very 'me' way." She responded, earning two hands up in surrender from (Y/n) because, after all, she was right. She did say she was going to do in her way. And. knowing Sabrina, she was going to make it comedic. She just didn't expect to actually be a part of the show. It was funny though, and she liked it. She especially didn't mind Sabrina telling the world that she was "so in love" either.

"Right, right. Well, come on. We have to get Naomi home on time. She has a curfew." She teased her friend, Girma rolling her eyes. As the three walked out, they made their way through a special exit. That didn't mean that they weren't bombarded with a few fans regardless. The fans who waited wanted several pictures of Sabrina and (Y/n) together, and Naomi was happy to not be as in the spotlight, as it was overwhelming just as an onlooker.

The next morning, the 'Jersey Swap,' as it was deemed was being reported everyone. Those who captured Sabrina and Joey at (Y/n)'s game (and the two of them blowing kisses) might now be experiencing newfound TikTok fame having witnessed the beginning of Sabrina and (Y/n) going public. The two laughed as they went through the TikToks, ignoring any negative ones. "Looks like we're out in the world, now." (Y/n) said before they shared a kiss. They decided not to make a post about each other, agreeing to only share pictures on special occasions, such as, their birthdays and anniversaries. They still wanted to remain private. Only now, if they wanted to go out, it wouldn't be a secret that they were together. It was just them going out. It was a new feeling that flooded the two as they basked in each other's presence.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that’s not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“That was awesome. We have so many berries,” you dust the dirt off your capris as you stand. “What are you going to make with yours?” 

Loki squints up at the sky and doesn’t answer. You frown. He’s not paying attention. 

“Brother,” Thor calls him back to earth, “the little one asked a question.” 

“You may keep them all,” he says as he puts his chin down. “I have no need of berries.” 

“But... you helped pick them all. You should get some. Oo, have you ever tried berries and a cream? Or you could make a smoothie--” 

“I said keep them,” he slithers and pushes his jacket back to slide his hands into his pockets. “Are we done then?” 

“You’ve nowhere important to be,” Thor insists. “I would know.” 

You sway awkwardly. You don’t want to be a nuisance. Not like you always are. 

“You know, I had lots of fun. With all of you, but I think I should just go home now,” you suggest. “Thanks for coming.” You smile at Queenie, “it was nice to meet you.” You turn and look at Loki, “and you.” 

He peers down his nose at you as his lips thin. “It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.” 

You look back at the others, “what about the berries?” Queenie asks, “you could come over and show me how to make something.” She pauses and looks at Thor. He grins. 

“Of course she can,” he assures. “You could come now, even.” 

“I appreciate that but I gotta get going.” 

“We will message and arrange the details then,” Thor declares. “Drive safe.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Queenie murmurs grimly. 

“I can’t wait,” you say. “Thank you for all your help, Loki.” 

His cheek ticks and he pushes his shoulders up, “it was nothing. Only got my suit dirty.” 

You giggle. He’s funny. Well, now he knows not to wear something so nice to a berry farm. 

“Alrighty, I’ll be going then. I wanna get some pictures of the bunnies before I go,” you chime. “Buh bye!” 

You turn and skip off. You’re wired with excitement. It might not have been a shining success but you made one friends at least. Queenie is nice and it seems like she needs a friend too. 

You stop by the bunny stall and snap some photos before you head off. You’ve spent enough money and time there. Besides, you don’t like driving in the dark and it’s a lot later than you thought. 

When you get home, your sister is there with Estelle. You head to kitchen to put your berries in the fridge. As you make space, Jada enters with her minion at her side. 

“Did you have fun playing in the dirt like a child?” She taunts. 

“Sure did,” you say as you slide the basket onto the shelf. 

“Sure looks like you did,” Estelle scoffs. 

You look down at your outfit. You have berry just on one knee and some soil on the other. Oh well, they aren’t your favourite pants. 

“You could’ve come. It was really cool. They had bunnies and a horse cart.” You say. 

“Did he stand you up?” Jada asks, ignoring your suggestion. 

“Stand me up? Who?” 

“Oh, don’t play dumb. Thor. You said that’s what he asked you outside the cafe. So what happened? Did he realise you’re a loser?” 

“I told you, he said he wanted me to meet his girlfriend. She’s nice,” you shrug. 

“Nice? She’s probably too good for you. I mean, she’s dating him.” She snickers. “Do you even know who Thor Odinson is? What he does?” 

“I would know. You gush about him all the time,” you stick your tongue out. 

“That’s not true,” she snaps. 

Estelle laughs, “you kinda of do... along with the rest of them.” 

“He’s a criminal,” Jada says. 

You just stare at her. “So why’d you let me go? I'm your sister?” 

“Oh, don’t do that,” she puffs. “You always are so pathetic. And stupid. You’re an adult, you can take care of yourself.” 

“Come on, Jada, don’t be bitter. You’re the one who’s obsessed with the outfit.” Estelle nudges her. 

“You’re taking her side?” Jada turns on her. 

“No, hell no. But you’re being dramatic. I bet he thought it was funny. She’s so dumb, it’s like having a clown at the party. Something to laugh at,” Estelle jeers. 

“Exactly,” Jada agrees and laugh tritely, “she is a clown.” 

You frown but don’t argue. She’ll just keep calling you names. You wait for her to go before you retreat to your room. The triumph of your day is quickly blotted out by the spiteful chittering you can hear in the front room. 

You wash up and get changed for bed. Maybe Queenie won’t message. Maybe it was all just a game to Thor. After all, what are you compared to him and his pretty, sophisticated girlfriend? And his brother seemed entirely unimpressed by it all. 

You fall asleep in a roil of doubt. You awake, little by little, and linger in bed as you search for the will to get up. You yawn and rub your eyes. You stand up and step into your slippers that look like cows. 

You go out to the kitchen and groggily flip on the electric kettle. As you wait for the water to boil, you go to the fridge and open it mindlessly. It’s more of a habit than an actual mission for anything. You skim the shelves and notice the empty space where your basket of berries should be. 

You let the door shut and look around the kitchen. The basket is empty on the counter. It must have been Jada. It’s like when you got that bottle of Coach perfume with your first pay check and she smash it against the school wall. 

What a waste. 

You hang your head and go back to your room. You’re hurt but not surprised. She’s been doing stuff like this for so long, you’re almost numb to it.  

You close your door slowly as you spot the dark stains across the front of your dresser. You flip the lights on and see the berry-coloured fingerprints all around the drawers. You cross the room and open the top drawer. You check every one and find the same thing in all. You must have slept through it all. 

All your clothes are smeared in berries. They’re starting to stink too. You take out a couple shirts and sigh. You could cry but that would only make Jada laugh louder. 

You shut the drawers and grab your phone from the charger. You go back to the kitchen as you weigh the day laundry to be done. A message pops up as you pour boiling water over a tea bag. You read the screen and swipe up the phone from the counter. 

‘I’ll send a car at noon. Queenie is looking forward to it.’ 

You read a re-read the invitation. It doesn’t leave you any room for rejection. Recalling Jada’s words, you don’t think it is an option. Thor might be nice but he is who he is. You might be just as stupid as they say getting yourself tangled up in all this mess. Yet, your only family are much more sinister than these people your sister claims to be criminals. You’ll take your chances with them. 

[cloudluvrrr]

Past.

a/n: YALL WANTED THIS BAD OMG so pt 2 to my before fic, basically it goes a little further back and a lot more in detail after his planet blew up :3. This one’s long! But Tysm :)

Past boothill x reader ft some headcannons. (Gender neutral w some fem indication later on)

forwards reckon rebound

--

-Boothill was a sweet kid, a little dumb at times but he always gave his effort. Always curious and helping out on his families farm, helping his dads with his siblings as hes the 3rd oldest .

-He never gave much trouble as a kid, always listening other than sleeping in more or sleeping on hay sometimes.

-his family wasn't made of money, but he always had everything he needed or want.

-Growing up with the idea girls had cooties...as he eats crayons.

-he learns guitar as he got one for christmas, he goes to the local church to learn how to play it. He'd bring his scuffed up cd player to show the teacher the songs he wanted to learn.

-His parents take him out every weekend, teaching him how to hunt, ride a horse or how to shoot a gun.

-he has a habit of looking off into the distance. Wide eyes as he looked off into the sunset wondering what was beyond his small family and tribe.

-He loves stories, often reading picture books at the library or getting one of his parents too read it to him before bed. As well as sneaking into his dads room to watch his shows, his favorite being of an outlaw.

-His family went to church once in awhile, but always went during christmas. Boothill hated dressing up, but he loved the songs. When he learned guitar would join as well, playing christmas songs.

-Everyone in town knew him, he was always making a name for himself.

--

-You'd show up in his life while he was in school, messily drawing on his math paper (instead of doing it) with his tongue out as the teacher announced a new student. As you were a new student in 3th grade, boothill being boothill would introduce himself as the class sheriff to impress you.

"I'm Boothill, the class sheriff! I keep everyone in line, and make sure they all do what they're supposed too!" he said in a confident tone puffing out his chest.

-Thats where it all began.

--

-the teacher put you beside him which made him often pout and utter that you had cooties, while he didn’t do his work.

-he often ‘patrolled’ during recess but in reality no one wanted to play with him. (Since he had two dads and he looked nothing like them) they didn’t like how different he was from them. So he decided to give you a shot, since you also only sat on the swing set.

‘Hey..’ he said with a slight frown ‘..I’m not busy today patrollin’ wanna play’ he asked looking away with a small dust of pink on his cheeks

‘..sure, you can push me’ you said perking up

—

-after that you’d always sit on the swing set together, as he’s talk about anything and everything. How he didn’t like waking up early, how his youngest sibling kicked him in the shin, his horse, how Nick complimented his shooting. He loved talking about his family

‘..maybe you should come over.. you’d like the meatloaf my daddy makes’ he said kicking his feet against the dirt ‘if you want too.. it’s a big White House with a barn ‘bout 10 minutes from town’

‘I’ll ask about it, I’d like to see your animals. All we have right now is chickens, and they get annoying’

You went to his farm, his family was happy he'd made a friend. That was the first of many visits!

--

-You two soon became inseparable as you grew older and closer, everyone in town knew when one was around the other probably was too.

-Always going to school festivals together, shopping, staying out at night, laying in fields at night looking at the constellations, coming home wet from splashing each other with water.

-It was a romance from the novels you read, the only part left was the confession. You often thought about it, 'maybe this week..' you'd think as another day went by and he hadn't confessed.

-Until that faithful day

-The sun was setting, it was a day like any other. He seemed a bit on edge but it was normal.

-

He was sitting up, his chin resting on his shoulder as he stared out at the cornfield near his house mindlessly. The sky a peachy tint as you laid on his sheets, looking up at him admiring his long hair and jawline. '...I like you" he said softly his gaze never leaving the window.

'really?' you couldn't believe it, finally it happened. 'I like you too, ya know' you replied still admiring his figure. His gaze meets yours and eventually his lips. The same lips that introduced himself in the past, chapped yet soft.

You'd never felt more in love.

-

-the next few weeks didn't change much, kisses here and there and he'd get more touchy. But he also spoke more about the future, how he wanted to either build or fix a older house. He wanted a small family, a farm and barn animals.

'I'd like to fix up that house at the end of town" he said leaning against the barn door looking off into the distance once more, as you looked over his barn cats kittens. 'You think you could?' you add standing up and leaning in front of him

'Yeah, make it all nice and pretty for you' and smile wrapping a hand around your waist. 'A pretty kitchen, cozy livin' room, big room..' he said with a small giggle kissing your nose.

'it'd be a dream baby'

-Soon after he told you he was dropping out of school, he was 17 and decided he didn’t need to further his education. And just help out his dads on the farm, while he scrapped together some money. You were mad, but understood he had a different path and mind than yours. Even if you tried arguing with him that he only needed 2 more years to graduate, he’d blow it off and just go fix his truck.

-but while you were at school getting educated (weirdo) he eventually fixed up the old house at the end of town he always spoke about. He’d also made a small ring, with a single stone on it. He could afford a real promise ring, but he thought this one was more special. Even carving their initials on it.

-one day when you both were old enough, and you were out of school be finally brought you to the home. And promising to stay by your side.

‘Your lyin’ you said looking at the delicate ring

‘..no? I want you to be by my side, while I save up for your weddin’ ring’ he said softly slipping it onto your finger.

‘Cause your my past present and future’ he said pressing pecks all over your face.

-soon you both lived together, slowly building your life on the farm, getting chickens, moving his horse from his family’s farm to your forever home. It was a dream all over again

-it was mundane, you would tend or the animals and boothill would fix things and do the heavy work or sometimes you’d do the heavy lifting and when he’d leave for a few days. At the end of the night you’d lay in bed together. You wouldn’t have it another way.

-when there wasn’t work done he’d sit out under a tree playing his guitar, watching you put his shirts on the clothes line. As he hummed and played love songs.

He’d sneak up on you snatching you into his arms and tackling you into the grass. As he admired your laughing face.

-19 was when he found the baby girl in the cold, lost in thought. When he heard the cry, and your lives changed once more. Now a family of 3.

-it was hard, you didn’t make much money. But his family had hand me downs, boothills old crib and toys. You’d sew her dresses, boothill would attempt at making hats and mittens for her as well.

They were always too big, and he’d say she’d grow into them while the girl sucked on the fluffy oversized mitten in his arms. Looking up at him with wide eyes, he wasn’t even 20 and he felt fulfilled.

-when she was a little older and starting to crawl around and walk a little, he carved her a small cherry wood guitar.

She couldn’t play it, but when he had his out he gave her the small guitar so she could ‘play’ along side him.

-he loved the days where he’d sit outside and the little one was waddling around picking up dandelions and handing them to him

‘Oh for me? Their so pretty darlin’’ he smiled softly ruffling the girls hair and letting her waddle around more as she babbled to herself.

-sometimes he’d think of leaving but

-it was all perfect, a house he’d fixed, a barn with animals, his perfect lover, a daughter, all he needed was to make it official. An engagement ring.

-he was saving for months, finally he had the money to buy the one you were eyeing at the store.

‘I’m going to the market’ he announced putting the bills in his wallet.

‘Can’t I join? I got a bad feelin’ Boothill, them ipc people don’t like the town’ you said.

He hesitated ‘it’s just my usual errand nothing special’ he replied kissing you. ‘I’ll be back take care of her for me’ he smiled kissing the girls cheek.

—

Only to return to ashes, he’d heard two workers joke about this very tragedy. He thought nothing of it. Not till he heard the explosions, and saw the flames. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside, he can’t imagine what it was like.

He couldn’t bring himself to tears, those twenty years he’d spend building his life with you gone.

The ashes of your once blue home, the farm on fire. He couldn’t bring himself to search for your bodies, he barely made it to find your family pictures.

He didn’t sleep, for 3 days and then he slept for 3 days straight. Before leaving behind two crosses over the sight.

And he finally left the planet, he spent a few months searching before he found a doctor that could help him.

He decided he needed to end his life, to kill his current self. Leave his past, and that’s exactly what he did. His mechanic fixed him.

All he remembers is the taste of metallic in his mouth and seeing his heart removed, as he died.

His rebirth into Boothill

—

Basically a yap session and excuse to talk ab him again after the 2.6 story line :P might add or not

Hope you enjoyed 😣

tags :3

@jassy-ine @shuzoku @sneakylilbartender @kita-01 @edxo @blueangelstone