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7s3ven · 11 months ago

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CINDY LOU WHO. cedric diggory

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N helps her crush and longtime best friend, Cedric Diggory, get with another girl. Deep down, she knows she’ll never be the bright and bubbly girl Cedric wants. She’ll always be the cunning snake with a knack for starting fights.

“Cindy Lou is bright, bubbly, and extraordinary… she’s everything I’m not.”

A/N: I do take requests so feel free to ask for one :). I mainly write for Maze Runner, Harry Potter, PJO, and Hunger Games

Guess you make him happy like I couldn't do. Cindy Lou Who. With your hair so long, lips so red. Maybe we met once, I forget

Scrolling five years back, I'm obsessed. Breaking my heart, 'tis the season, I guess. The snow's gonna fall and the tree's gonna glisten. And I'm gonna puke at the thought of you kissin'

“The boy who I love who's now in love with you. Cindy Lou Who.”

—

Y/N sighed as she impatiently checked her watch and tapped her foot against the stone floor. It was almost curfew and Cedric was still a no show. The rules were less strict now that school was done, but Y/N had a reputation to live up to. It was the least she could do with all the trouble she had caused this year.

“Y/N.” Cedric jogged towards her, looking out of breath. She arched an eyebrow and her gaze scanned his untidy uniform.

“… Do I even want to ask?” She questioned.

“Ah.” Cedric sheepishly smiled, “My friends and I were playing hide and seek. It was a pretty intense game.” Even during his senior years, Cedric was still the bright-eyed kid Y/N had grown up with.

“Right. Well, why did you want to see me? You know how I don’t like going out before curfew.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest, “Plus, you’re late.” She quickly added.

“I know. I’m sorry about that. I just had to grab this.” Cedric pulled out a black box, smiling. He carefully opened it, showing the necklace to Y/N. “Do you recognize the crystal?” He questioned, making Y/N scoff.

“Of course I do. It’s my birth month crystal. (Insert crystal).”

Cedric grinned. “You still know so much more about gems than me. You should’ve been put in Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, please. If I was put there, I would be sleeping in the hallways. I can’t figure out riddles.”

Cedric playfully nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t say that. You’re smart.”

The pair walked beside each other as the moonlight shone through the cracks of the castle. Cedric had slipped the necklace box back into his pocket and he gently cleared his throat.

“I’m going to give the necklace to Cho.” He suddenly blurted out, causing Y/N to pause. She looked over her shoulder at Cedric, wondering if he was joking. He wasn’t.

“Why? She’s your ex.” Y/N felt mildly disappointed that the necklace wasn’t for her. For the longest time, she had been holding onto her feelings for Cedric. Everybody could see it; the Golden trio, the teachers, even Draco’s posse. And yet Cedric had never caught on. She was starting to wonder if he was just messing with her.

“She helped me through a lot. I owe it to her.” Cedric smiled. Y/N gazed at him before she nodded.

“Okay… I’m guessing you want my help?”

“Yes. Please.” Cedric was ready to get on his knees and beg. Though, he was sure Y/N would find great amusement in that. She had always been a little sadistic.

Y/N briefly looked away, blinking away small tears and recollecting her composure so her voice wouldn’t crack. “What do you want me to do?”

edric had wanted to meet Cho at the black late, which was where he and Y/N usually hung out. That stung.

Y/N tied the last of the heart-shaped balloons before securing them to a nearby tree. Cedric was pacing around, wildly muttering under his breath.

“Will you relax?” The Slytherin girl piped up, rolling her eyes. “You’re making me feel nervous.”

“I can’t help it.” Cedric replied. Of course, nobody could help but feel anxious around Cho Chang. She was beautiful and smart and kind. Y/N had talked to her a few times, and if she were a guy or lesbian, Cho would be her crush too.

“Well, that’s the last of the balloons. Good luck, Ced. I’ll be nearby if you need help. Just don’t expect me to hug you if she rejects you.” Y/N playfully punched her friend’s shoulder. Cedric boyishly grinned and quickly embraced her.

For a moment, Y/N was speechless. She slowly hugged him back and awkwardly patted him. She could smell his expensive cologne and it almost felt Cedric was confessing to her instead.

Y/N was the first to pull away. She wished Cedric luck once more before hurrying off, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt envious of Cho. Y/N had been by Cedric’s side since day one. She had comforted him and supported him and hid her breaking heart when Cedric admitted to liking Cho the first time.

And now it was all happening again.

Y/N hid behind a tree just in time to see Cho walk out of Hogwarts and make a beeline for Cedric. She watched as they conversed and when Cedric showed Cho the necklace, she jumped with joy.

Y/N let out a small sigh. She pressed her lips into a thin line, accepting that she wasn’t the girl Cedric would ever go for. She wondered that if they weren’t childhood friends, would Cedric still be nice to her?

She was a Slytherin. A somewhat mean one with a soft spot for certain people. She started too many fights to count, and the threat of expulsion was always hanging over her head.

She wasn’t Cho Chang, who was pretty like the starry night shining above the calm ocean. Cho Chang was kind, sweet, and loving.

Cho Chang was Cindy Lou and Y/N was the Grinch with no room in her heart to change.

The next time Y/N saw Cedric, he was by Cho’s side. Y/N usually sat at the Hufflepuff table with Cedric, much to some people’s dismay, but today Cho was with him.

Y/N didn’t feel welcomed at that point so she sat with her friends, completely missing the way Cedric gazed over at her in confusion.

“Ah, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang. Everybody’s favorite couple has finally reunited.” Ivy, a pale-skinned girl with light freckles lining her cheeks and soft silver hair grimaced as she sarcastically spoke.

“It’s a shame you never dated Diggory, Y/N. You guys were perfect together.” Hime sighed as she poured herself a cup of pumpkin juice. She offered to fill Y/N’s glass as well, but the H/C-haired girl declined.

“Boys are always stupid.” Evan, short for Evangeline, piped up. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing. I agree with Hime. He should’ve gone for Y/N.”

Y/N silently ate as she listened to her friends complain about Cedric, probably in an attempt to make her feel better.

“Has anybody noticed how he keeps looking over here?” Hime questioned, whispering quietly. “Chang never seems to have his attention for long.”

“I’m telling you, Diggory secretly likes Y/N but he’s scared she’ll reject him. So he’s playing it safe and going for an ex who he knows he had chemistry with.” Ivy retorted, sparing another glance at Cedric.

Y/N huffed in amusement. “Where did you come up with that?” She spoke for the first time.

“It’s obvious.” Evan backed up Ivy’s theory. “When he wins a Quidditch game, who does he run to? You. When he needs help with homework, who does he find? You. When he wants to go to Hogsmeade, who does he immediately ask?”

Evan arched an eyebrow while Y/N sighed.

“Me.”

“Exactly!”

“It’s a plausible theory.” Hime uttered. “You two have been friends for ages. He’s close friends with Hermione Granger too, but does he hug her and look at her like he does to you?”

“That’s probably because she’s younger and he doesn’t want to end up with a sentence.”

“Good point. What about Floral over there?” Hime nodded over at the Ravenclaw girl who was always arranging flowers or reading about them. Her name wasn’t Floral but everyone called her that and it stuck. “You three are all friends, right?”

“More like I was forced to befriend her, but sure.”

“Diggory doesn’t look at her the way he looks at you.”

“And how does he look at me?”

Ivy slammed her hands on the table, looking like she had been waiting years for this question. “He looks at you like Jack Dawson looks at Rose. He looks at you like Chuck Bass looks at Blair Waldorf. He looks at you like Luke looks at Lorelei. Like Morticia and Gomez, Bella and Edward, uh.. give me another one!”

“Percy and Annabeth?” Evan suggested.

“Yes! That’s how he looks at you. He’s giving you the I wouldn’t want anybody else by my side look. He’s probably just… confused. You’re like his Cindy Lou Who. You make him happy and you bring out the best in him.”

“Cindy Lou is bright, bubbly, and extraordinary… she’s everything I’m not.” Y/N gestured over to Cho, who was giggling with Cedric. “Cho Chang is more like Cindy Lou.”

“Cindy Lou Who has a nice ring to it.” Evan said, off topic.

Y/N nodded in agreement. “It does. The rhyme is satisfying.”

“Enough about language features! You have to get your man back, Y/N.” Ivy intensely stared at Y/N, determined to get Cedric and her together.

“He was never mine to begin with.”

“Then make him yours! Come on, Y/N, you’re beautiful- no. Gorgeous. And sure, you have a bitter side but guys who can’t deal getting a little burnt aren’t worth it. And I know that you burnt Diggory over and over again, with both your anger and literal fire.”

“Just so we’re clear, the fire thing was an accident. And I don’t want to force anything onto Cedric. I’ll just… go with the flow.” Y/N ate the last of her food and stood up, “I need to wrap presents. Don’t you dare try and sneak in to see your’s.”

Y/N was mainly referring to Ivy, who lifted her hands in surrender.

Again, Y/N failed to notice how Cedric’s eyes trailed to her. But Cho saw it.

“Cedric.” The raven-haired beautify tugged on his sleeve, “Can we talk?” She spared Cedric’s friends a look. “Alone?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

The pair walked off, fully aware of how Y/N’s friends were watching them closely.

“What did you want to talk about?” Cedric questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t want to assume anything, Cedric. But to me, it seems like you only confessed to me again to play it safe. I can tell that your true feelings don’t lie with me.” Cho glanced at Y/N, who exited a nearby bathroom and was too busy drying her hands to notice the couple. “They lie with her.”

Cedric followed Cho’s gaze, softly staring at Y/N with that damned look of adoration.

“I think someone else deserves this necklace.” Cho gently removed the jewellery, handing it over to Cedric. “Face it, you love her. You always have. You can’t try to love me, Cedric, not when Y/N exists.”

“She doesn’t like me back.” Cedric muttered, grasping the necklace.

“Are you sure?” Cho quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you think she stayed by your side for so long? Even when the other Slytherins teased her, even when you two argued, even when you kissed me in front of her. How could you not notice, Cedric? She brings you drinks after quidditch practice and buys you gifts and even stays at Hogwarts so you aren’t lonely. Why do you think she never dated anybody, Cedric? It’s because you were the one she wanted.”

Cedric shook his head. “No. She doesn’t like me. Y/N is smart and amazing and cunning. I’m not her type. Her type would be someone like…” He paused, thinking, “Matteo Riddle.”

Cho sighed as she shook her head. “You really have no idea, do you? Spend more time with Y/N and hopefully you’ll notice the things the rest of us do.”

She quietly walked off, leaving Cedric standing outside the Great Hall. Cho made an immediate beeline for Ivy, Evan, and Hime and sat in Y/N’s spot.

The trio clad in green glanced at her, confused and a little hostile.

“Cedric likes Y/N.” Cho quickly uttered so the group didn’t explode on her. “I got through to him but he thinks Y/N doesn’t like him back.”

“Thats bullshit. It’s so obvious!” Ivy groaned.

“Exactly.” Evan agreed, “But Y/N doesn’t think Cedric likes her either.”

Cho sighed. “It’s obvious they have mutual feelings but neither of them believe it. So, let’s force them to confess.”

Hime raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you like Cedric? Why are you willing to help us?”

“Despite our dating history, Cedric is still my friend. And I want to help him in any way I can.” Cho smiled.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Ivy exclaimed, “What if we get them under the mistletoe? But instead, they have to fight! We can call it mistlefoe!”

Cho, Hime, and Evan exchanged looks.

“I think we should just stick to mistletoe.” Cho uttered. “We could, uh, surprise them by decorating one of their common rooms? The Slytherin room is never decorated, right?”

“I wish it was.” Evan sighed, “It’s a cute idea. We could surprise Y/N by decorating the common room and then led her in and Cedric can be standing in the middle of the room under the mistletoe.”

“But to pull that off, we’ll need more help.” Hime added, “I don’t think four people can do that. And it’s only us in the Slytherin common room. Not even Matteo is here. So he can’t help.”

Cho glanced past Hime and Ivy, staring at the Golden Trio and their extended group of friends. She smiled. “I have an idea. But it’s going to involve working with Gryffindors.”

The group of Slytherins all glanced at each other before they shrugged in unison.

“Anything for Y/N.”

“Whatever.”

“Do I get to kiss Oliver Wood after Diggory and Y/N kiss?”

Cho, Evan, and Hime stared at Ivy, who only cheekily grinned.

“Um… I’m not sure about that last one. Let’s just start off with asking the Gryffindors first.” Cho sheepishly smiled.

“Ivy and I will get the decorations.” Hime offered, “There’s some extra ones in the basement if Hogwarts too. Evan, Chang, you can get those after you ask the Gryffindors.”

“Call me Cho.” The ravenette smiled before she stood up. “We don’t have much time. Let’s hurry.”

“Wait, we forgot something.” Ivy piped up, “Who’s going to distract Y/N?”

“Evan can distract L/N. I’ll ask the Gryffindors myself and if they accept, they can help me get the decorations from the basement.”

“Okay.” Hime looked around, slowly nodding. She smiled. “Let’s go.”

Cho approached the red table while Hime and Ivy hurried towards Hogsmeade and Evan rushed off to find Y/N.

It took a few hours for everything to be set up, but finally the Slytherin room was decorated and ready.

“I need to get something. I’ll be back.” Evan smiled, lying through her teeth. She watched as Y/N entered the Slytherin common room and rushed off to find her friends.

Y/N squinted her eyes as she walked into the dark room. “Huh? Ivy? Hime? You here? What did you do to the lights?” Nobody answered her. She tilted her head to the side, confused.

The lights suddenly turned on, along with multiple Christmas LED lights. She quietly gasped as she stared at the tinsel covered stairs and brightly decorated tree.

In all her years at Hogwarts, the common room had never been decorated. Slytherins weren’t exactly big on Christmas.

Y/N looked around, realizing she wasn’t alone. “Cedric?” She stared at the brunette boy. “What are you doing here? Have you seen Ivy or Hime? I can’t seem to find them anywhere.”

Cedric silently looked up. Y/N, puzzled, followed his gaze. She lifted her head, staring up at the floating mistletoe above her head. “Oh.” She whispered.

She looked at Cedric again, jumping when he was only a foot away.

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you, Y/N.” He uttered, “I should’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

Cedric didn’t say anything as he leaned forward to softly kiss her. Y/N froze, her heart almost leaping out of her chest.

“Y/N,” Cedric pulled away and brushed a strand of loose hair aside, “You’ll always be my Cindy Lou.”

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incognit0slut · 4 months ago

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Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

This isn’t a love story. This isn’t a fairytale. This is about a woman bent on setting the world on fire and the FBI agent assigned to her case, drawn to the very flame she ignites.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader

Warnings: (18+) Typical CM violence, mentions of sexual assault and trauma, implied sex, fire/arson, and this is basically angst with no happy ending

A/n: For once, I am writing outside my comfort zone. This is heavily based on John Mayer’s song with the same title, Female Rage, and Megan Kane (she did nothing wrong!). Constructive criticism is welcome since I rarely write angst, but please be nice, it's my birthday🥺 (yes my birthday appreciation post is heartbreaking)

You wanted the world to burn.

You wanted to watch the ashes drift through the air. You wanted to smell the acid scent of smoke. You wanted to feel the heat envelop you, to wrap your body like a suffocating blanket. Because simply sitting in silence wasn’t enough for the rage that consumed you, the smoldering anger that craved the sound of the world cracking and crumbling under the force of your wrath.

You craved the chaos, but the man lying defeated before you was enough for now. His eyes, wide with horror, stared up at you—the look of a man who knew these were his final moments. He pleaded, his voice cracking in desperation, his hands bound tightly behind his back as you stood there, unfazed.

Please.

I have a family. Think of my children.

Just let me go—I'll disappear, you'll never have to see me again.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? How a man could beg for mercy, could invoke the sanctity of family only when facing his own end. How a man could think that running away could solve everything, believing that his disappearance would erase the past and the suffering he caused.

No, that was a choice you didn’t have. The luxury of forgetting, of escaping the shadows that clung to your every step. Not only was his pleading in vain, it was insulting, as if the depth of his misdeeds could be washed away by mere absence. You wanted him gone. You wanted him dead.

So you gave him a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your expression was serene, almost angelic, but it belied the reality of your intentions as your heels echoed through the empty warehouse, a jug of gasoline in hand.

He screamed. Your smile widened. It was useless—no other soul was near enough to hear his cries, too far away to save him. His desperation filled the empty space once again as you poured the gasoline around him, drenching him in its sharp, pungent scent.

Then you took a step back, your hand reaching for the lighter in your pocket. There was a moment of hesitation as you watched him struggle. Could you really do this? Could you cross this final line?

But then the memories surged forward, vivid and painful. He was one of them, one of the people who had taken advantage of your innocence when you were young and naive, who had shattered your trust and left you to pick up the pieces alone, leaving scars that never truly healed.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

Your fingers tightened around the lighter. What a foolish man, who was he to think that a forced apology could undo the damage? With a steady hand, you flicked the lighter, the flame springing to life. His apologies continued, increasingly frantic, but they were nothing more than the desperate noise of a man who had run out of options, out of time.

You threw the lighter. The small flame sailed through the air, landing amidst the gasoline-soaked ground with a burst of fire. The flame caught instantly, erupting into a roaring blaze that engulfed him in a matter of seconds, drowning out his piercing scream.

You continued to watch his body burn, and perhaps for the very first time in your life, you felt a terrifying peace.

~*~

“This is the third body in a week,” Derek mentioned, stepping into the old factory as he slipped his sunglasses on top of his head, scanning the scene before him. It was disturbing. The stench of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

Spencer looked up from where he was crouched near what was left of the victim. “It’s getting more deliberate,” he observed. “The Unsub is trying to send a message.”

Derek moved closer, carefully stepping over a piece of evidence marked by the forensic team. “What are you thinking?”

He slowly stood up, his eyes assessing the place. There were actually a lot of things on his mind, and one of them being how this third victim seemed more calculated, more precise than the others. It was a stark contrast to the first victim, whose remains were found in a haphazard, chaotic state in that old warehouse.

But this one… everything was meticulously arranged, from the positioning of the body to the burn patterns that radiated outwards in a controlled manner. The Unsub was trying to perfect their methods in a short amount of time, and as much as Spencer hated to admit it, it was almost impressive.

“They want attention,” Spencer finally said, breaking the silence as he mulled over the crime scene. “They’re not just doing this for the sake of it; they’re communicating. Whatever message they’re trying to send, it’s getting closer with each victim.”

“You think they’re trying to tell us something?”

“No, I don’t think it’s aimed at us.” Spencer bit his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing in thought. “They’re trying to make a statement.”

“Like a public declaration?”

“Could be,” Spencer acknowledged, stepping back to view the scene from a different angle. “Or it could be a form of protest or revenge.”

“Burning people for revenge,” Derek mused, crossing his arms. “Now that’s a hell of a way to get a point across.”

“It’s deeply symbolic. Fire consumes everything, leaving nothing but ash. It’s final.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Derek’s. “Whoever is doing this is not just angry, they’re trying to erase their victims from existence.”

“Well, they’re doing a pretty good job at it, we haven’t identified any of them yet.”

Spencer frowned, his gaze dropping back to the scene in front of him. Identifying the first two victims had been nearly impossible due to the extent of the burns. The flames had consumed everything, leaving behind little more than brittle bones and ash. Dental records and DNA tests had been their only hope, and even those couldn’t identify the victims.

He continued to study the body, looking for anything that could help them. The burns were severe, almost total, but then something caught his eye. A faint mark, barely visible under the scorched skin. He leaned in closer, squinting to make out the details. There, peeking out from the blackened flesh on the victim’s forearm, partially obscured by the burns, was a small tattoo.

“I think we might have something,” he said, pointing to the mark.

Derek leaned in, his eyes widening slightly. “That looks like a tattoo.”

“You think we can get this to the lab?”

“We can,” Derek replied as he took out his phone and took a quick photo of it. “But we also have Garcia.”

Spencer watched as Derek quickly navigated through his contacts, his fingers moving with practiced ease. He tapped the screen, putting the phone close to his ear. It didn’t take long for the call to connect, and almost immediately, a familiar voice filled the brief silence through the speaker.

“I knew you couldn’t go a day without me,” Penelope’s unmistakable cheerful voice greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this delightful interruption?”

Derek couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “Garcia, we need your magic on a photo. There’s a partial tattoo on our latest victim, and we need to know if it matches anyone in the system.”

“Send it over and I’ll sprinkle some of my digital pixie dust on it.”

Derek attached the photo to a message and sent it directly to her. “It’s on its way.”

“Got it,” Penelope replied, her fingers already flying across her keyboard on the other end. “Okay, this might take a while, but I do have more information on our first victim, or I guess you can say, I have all the information that you need.”

“Our first John Doe is identified?”

“Rick Sullivan,” she confirmed. “He was reported missing a week ago by his wife. Turns out he has a bit of a past—multiple arrests for minor offenses, but nothing that would usually make him a target for this kind of violence.”

Spencer leaned closer to Derek’s phone. “Does he have any known associates or enemies that stand out?”

“Not on record,” Penelope said, her voice slightly muffled as she sifted through more files. “But listen to this, his bank transactions show some pretty hefty sums being spent regularly. Guess where most of it is going?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

"To an exclusive strip club on the east side of town called The Velvet Curtain,” she revealed. “Seems our Mr. Sullivan was quite the regular spender there.”

Derek smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not nearly enough,” she replied with a playful lilt in her voice. “Keep the compliments coming and maybe I’ll dig up even more dirt for you.”

“We’ll need all the dirt we can get. Thanks, Garcia.”

“Always a pleasure, gentlemen. I’ll keep you updated if I find anything else,” she said before ending the call.

Derek turned to Spencer as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Ready to see some strippers, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer glanced back at the charred remains. He’d seen too many bodies, too much senseless violence. There was nothing left that could shake him—not even the neon lights and dark corners of a strip club, or even the thought of being in a room surrounded by half-naked women. He could handle that. He could definitely handle that.

With a slight nod aimed at Derek, he followed him out of the building.

~*~

“Scarlett!” A voice rang through the dressing room. “You’re up in five!”

You swiped the red lipstick across your lips one last time, perfecting the bold arch that had become your signature look as your eyes swept over your reflection, eying the thin straps of your costume. The fabric was a deep, seductive red, almost the color of freshly drawn blood, and barely covered your skin. The material was sheer and see-through, leaving little to the imagination, something you preferred. Because the more skin you showed, the more you felt in control.

This was your armor, the persona you donned to hide the secrets buried beneath your glamorous exterior. As Scarlett, you were a siren. Untouchable. You had power and control, something your life outside these walls lacked.

“Scarlett!”

“I’m coming!” You snapped, capping the lipstick and placing it back in your makeup bag. You stood up, smoothing down your outfit, and made your way to the stage entrance.

The stage coordinator eyed you up and down. “No props for today?”

You shook your head, giving a confident smile. “Not today. I can manage without them.”

He nodded approvingly, moving to the side. “Alright, it's your cue."

You brushed past him and headed down the dimly lit corridor leading to the stage, the familiar rush of adrenaline surging through you. Taking one last deep breath, you finally stepped into the glow of the spotlight. The crowd's attention shifted to you, and you felt the power you had grown accustomed to, the control you desperately craved. The music pulsed through the air as you sauntered toward the pole at center stage.

You started to move.

Your fingers around the cold metal, and your body naturally found the beat as you began to dance seductively, letting the red fabric of your costume shimmer under the lights. A flirtatious smile played on your lips as you glanced around the room, locking eyes with a few patrons who watched. You slid down the pole, bending your knees and arching your back gracefully, biting back a smile as you heard the cheers and whistles from the crowd.

You took in the familiar faces and the usual gazes of admiration and desire, from the sleazy grins of regulars to the guilty looks of married men stealing away from home. But then, two men caught your attention, standing out starkly against the backdrop of the usual patrons.

One of them exuded confidence, his gaze steady and assessing as he watched your performance. The other, however, seemed out of place, his eyes darting around the room awkwardly. At first, he appeared uneasy, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and avoiding direct eye contact. But as you moved, dancing with the pole and letting your body sway to the rhythm, his gaze gradually settled on you.

You had never seen him before. He was unexpectedly handsome, with soft curls that danced along the edges of his face and soft features that made him beautiful, almost angelic. But there was something more about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to blend in with the shadows, making him nearly invisible among the brasher, more excited crowd. His presence was so out of place and yet so focused on you that it spurred you on.

With a teasing smile, you tugged at the thin strap of your top, playing with it as you danced. His eyes followed the movement, his breath catching slightly as you slowly slid the strap down your shoulder. The fabric slipped further, revealing more of your skin as you twirled around the pole.

You then arched your back and bent low, the thin strap finally gave way, allowing your top to slide down your body, exposing your perky breasts to the crowd. His eyes widened slightly, but he couldn't look away. Neither could you. For a moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent exchange as the cheers and applause became a distant hum in the background.

You could see the conflict in his eyes—part fascination, part restraint—and it only made you bolder. You slipped the last piece of fabric down your legs, and with each sway of your hips, you drew him deeper into your world, determined to leave a mark on his memory.

~*~

“Just talked to the club owner,” Derek mentioned as he walked over to where Spencer stood, hiding in the corner of the room. “He gave us permission to question the dancers.”

Spencer nodded, but didn’t say anything. Derek raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine.”

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Your first time being at a place like this?”

Spencer’s gaze lingered on the stage. That would be a good excuse for why he was acting this way, but it wasn’t the truth. He grew up in Las Vegas, after all. Even though he rarely found himself in these types of scenes, he knew what went behind the walls. He was aware of what happened inside clubs, the performers, and the whole spectrum of human behavior. But he had never seen someone so… mesmerizing.

His mind was still processing the way you moved, the way you commanded the room with such effortless confidence. The way you shamelessly captivated everyone’s attention, including his.

No, it wasn’t the setting that threw him off—it was you.

“Reid?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here,” he managed, snapping back to the present. “So the dancers?”

Derek nodded, sensing Spencer’s momentary distraction but choosing not to comment.

“Yeah, we need to start talking to them. With these many dancers, I think it’s better we split up.” His eyes scanned the room. “You take the bar out here, and I’ll handle the lounge area. If any of them seem to know more or are hesitant to talk in front of others, we can bring them aside for a more private conversation.”

“Got it,” Spencer agreed. He straightened his tie and took a deep breath as he made his way directly to the bar, nodding politely to the bartender before turning to address the group of dancers gathered nearby.

“Excuse me, uh, hi there,” he greeted, showing them his badge. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. I’d appreciate it if I could ask you a few questions.”

The dancers exchanged glances as Spencer cleared his throat, trying to appear composed. One of them, a tall woman with striking pink hair, stepped forward. “What do you need to know, Handsome?”

Spencer felt a flush creep up his neck, momentarily flustered by the directness. “Have any of you noticed anything unusual or seen anyone acting suspiciously in the past few weeks?”

The pink-haired woman looked him up and down, taking in his crisp suit and tie with a playful smile. “Well, the only unusual thing I’ve seen lately is a handsome FBI agent in a place like this.”

Her comment drew a few chuckles from the group, and Spencer felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him. He usually could handle a bit of teasing—he’d even interviewed sex workers who blatantly flirted with him before—but being surrounded by half-naked women, one of whom was actually topless, was making him feel distinctly out of place. His usual confidence was slipping away, replaced by a deep, uncomfortable blush.

Before he could respond, another dancer, this one with blue hair, joined in the teasing. “Aww, look at him blushing. Aren’t you just adorable?”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “I, uh, appreciate your… observations. But really, any information about unusual behavior could be very helpful.”

One of them, with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned closer and asked in a flirty tone, “Would you like to find a private room for questioning, Doctor?”

His eyes widened. “W-What? No, no, I—”

“Ladies.”

Spencer turned around, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw you standing close to him, your sweet fragrance enveloping him. His heartbeat quickened, and he found it hard not to stare. You had changed from your performance attire into something slightly less revealing but no less captivating that Spencer had to remind himself to blink.

“Stop teasing the poor guy,” you said, addressing the dancers with a slight smirk.

“We were just being nice,” one of them protested, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, let’s give him some space.”

The rest of the dancers giggled, picking up their drinks and retreating to another part of the club. You watched them leave before turning back to Spencer and gracefully took a seat on a stool where one of them had been.

“So,” you began, crossing one leg over the other, and Spencer made a conscious effort not to focus on how the fabric rode up your thighs. “I can’t help but overhear you’re with the FBI. I’m Scarlett.”

He stared at your outstretched hand but made no effort to take it. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ah,” you said, retracting your hand and placing it on your lap. “You’re that type of guy.”

“What do you mean?”

You tilted your head slightly, a wry smile playing on your lips. “You know, the type who might think less of this kind of job, of people who work in places like this."

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not that. I grew up in Las Vegas, places like this don't surprise me. It's just that—l don't do handshakes. Personal preference, not a judgment."

You raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Well, studies show that handshakes transfer a significant amount of pathogens. It’s actually safer to kiss someone than to shake their hand.”

An amused smile played on your lips. “Is that your way of trying to kiss me, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck. “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” he stammered. “I just meant, scientifically speaking, it’s… safer.”

“Of course.” You chuckled, leaning back slightly. “So what brings the FBI here?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “We’re here to gather information about one of your customers.”

“Who?”

“Do you know anyone by the name Rick Sullivan?”

“Know him? He practically lives at the end of the bar some nights.” Your eyes swept over the empty seat where Rick usually occupied. “Although he hasn’t come here in a while, his wife probably decided to put her foot down."

“Do you remember anything unusual about his behavior or if he mentioned anything out of the ordinary recently?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged. “He was always pretty quiet. But now that you mention it, a few weeks ago, he seemed more on edge than usual. Kept looking over his shoulder like he was expecting someone.”

“Did he ever talk to anyone in particular, or did anyone strange approach him?”

You shook your head. “Not that I noticed. But then again, it gets pretty busy here. Hard to keep track of every interaction.”

Spencer nodded at the information. “Is there anyone who seemed particularly close with him here?”

“I don’t think so. He’s friendly with some of the regulars, but no one stood out. He mostly keeps to himself unless he’s buying drinks for the dancers.” You watched him, noticing the way his brow furrowed slightly in thought and you couldn’t help but ask, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but don’t you have to write all this down?”

Spencer glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. "I have a good memory. I'll remember everything you've told me."

"Really? Do you have a photographic memory or something?"

"Eidetic, actually.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s impressive. So basically you’ll remember anything?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, I can recall detailed images and information with high precision.”

“Alright, I want you to remember this then,” you said, leaning in slightly. You recited a series of numbers, your voice smooth and confident.

He looked genuinely confused. “What’s that?”

“My number.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oh.”

“There’s a rule against sharing personal information while working here,” you explained, leaning in a bit closer, “But you can save it under Y/N. That’s my real name.”

Spencer found himself momentarily mesmerized by your proximity, the scent of your perfume, and the intensity of your gaze. He blinked, trying to maintain his composure.

“Y/N,” he repeated softly, as if committing it to memory.

You smiled. “Exactly. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” he assured you as you slipped off the stool and the space between you momentarily vanished. For a brief, unexpected second, your body lightly pressed against his. The contact was fleeting but there was an unspoken tension that seemed to pause the noise around you.

The closeness brought a rush of warmth, and your eyes locked with his. “Do you like jazz music, Dr. Reid?”

He frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Um, I don’t really listen to music.”

“Well, that’s a pity,” you replied with a playful smile. “There’s a great spot not too far from here. They have live bands on the weekends.”

“What… what are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to ask you out on a date.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he processed your words. “Oh,” he stammered, clearly taken aback by your boldness. He hesitated, his mind racing to catch up with the situation. “I, uh, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Because you’re an FBI agent and I’m a stripper?”

He swallowed, looking a bit flustered. “It’s not that. It’s just… there are boundaries, and I’m supposed to remain professional.”

“Ah, I see. But if you decide to change your mind…” You moved closer, reaching out to fix his crooked tie, your fingers brushing lightly against the fabric. “I’ll be at the Blue Moon on Saturday around 9 p.m., sitting at the bar in a red dress with a drink in my hand.”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he tensed but didn’t pull away, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you do, Dr. Reid.” You took a step back, your hand lingering for a moment before you let go of his tie. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there as he watched you blend into the crowd, conflicted and unexpectedly aroused.

~*~

You weren’t sure what you were trying to do. Asking an FBI agent out on a date went against every rule you had set for yourself. You were supposed to keep your distance, to remain anonymous and untouchable. It was safer that way, for both you and your secrets. Yet, here you were, sipping your drink as you waited for a man who represented everything you should be avoiding.

A part of you questioned your sanity. What was it about him that made you break your own rules? It was reckless, foolish even. Getting involved with someone like Spencer Reid could only complicate things.

But there was something about him. Maybe it was the curiosity in his eyes, the way he seemed both out of place and perfectly composed at the same time. Or perhaps it was the way he treated you with a respect and sincerity that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever it was, it had been enough to make you take this risk.

But now, as you sat by the bar alone an hour later, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been a mistake. The minutes had ticked by slowly, and you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that maybe you had misjudged him. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, and maybe that was for the best.

Just as you were about to give up and leave, the door to your side opened. You turned, not daring to hope, and there he was—looking slightly disheveled and out of breath, but undeniably there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a small, relieved smile crossed his face.

“Hi,” he said, a bit breathless. “I’m sorry I’m late, I got held up at work and I didn’t want to come empty handed, so…”

Your eyes drifted towards the simple bouquet of white lilies in his hand. “Are those for me?”

Spencer nodded, extending the flowers towards you. “Yes, they are,” he replied. “I didn’t know what you’d like, and I thought lilies are a safe choice because they’re elegant and not too overwhelming, but then I started thinking maybe roses would have been better, but then roses can be a bit too—”

You cut him off with a warm smile, gently taking the bouquet from him. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad you like them.”

You placed the lilies on the bar and gestured to the seat beside you. “Come here, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

“It felt like it,” he admitted, taking the seat right next to you. “I really didn’t want to be late.”

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.” You slightly leaned back and studied him. “I’m actually surprised you changed your mind.”

Spencer glanced at you. “I… I guess I realized I didn’t want to miss the chance to get to know you.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “What do you want to know about me?”

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, actually. He wanted to know your story, why you chose your job, and who you were beneath this confident exterior. But that was all too much for a first date. Glancing around the room, he decided to start with something simpler and said, “Start with how you know this place.”

You smiled, looking around the familiar setting. “I found it a few years ago. I was walking aimlessly down the road one night after work and stumbled this place. It’s become my little escape since then.”

“I can see why." His eyes drifted towards the band playing live music and the few patrons mesmerized by the soft tune. "It’s definitely got a charm to it.”

You leaned in slightly. “Do you have any secret escapes?”

He looked back at you. “Not really. My escapes aren’t quite as charming. Mostly books and chess. They're not exactly thrilling.”

“Books and chess?” you asked, tapping your finger on the bar. “You really are a nerd.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a man of knowledge,” he replied with a shy yet proud smile.

“Well, intelligence is attractive, and not only that, it’s also very sexy." You laughed when you noticed him slightly squirming. “Do you have any other hidden talents I should know about?”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “I’m actually pretty good at magic tricks. It’s something I picked up as a kid.”

“Now that’s a talent I didn’t expect,” you observed, your eyes lighting up. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I’d be happy to,” he replied enthusiastically. “What about you? What’s your hidden talent?”

You grinned. “I can make a pretty mean lasagna. And I’m good at dancing, but you might have already guessed that.”

Spencer suddenly felt the warmth spreading along his face as he remembered your performance on stage the other day. His mind flashed back to the way you moved with such confidence, the undeniable sex appeal you exuded effortlessly, and he could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, I, uh, definitely noticed,” he admitted.

“I hope that means you were impressed.”

Spencer nodded, still a bit flustered but managing a smile. “Very impressed.”

“Why, thank you,” you noted, leaning closer to him. “How about you? Do you dance, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at the question. “I’m not nearly as skilled as you are,” he confessed. “My dance moves are more… theoretical. More of an exercise in coordination than something you’d want to see in action.”

The image of this authority figure awkwardly dancing in his suit made you smile.

“Now this I need to see.” Sliding off the stool, you extended your hand towards him. “Dance with me.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely,” you replied. “Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

You waited, half-expecting him to decline considering he didn’t even want to shake your hand the last time you saw him. But then, to your surprise, he took a deep breath and placed his hand in yours.

You couldn’t help but smile as he stood up and let you lead him to a small open space near the bar, slipping in between other couples swaying to the music as the band played a lively, upbeat tune.

“Okay, put your hand here,” you instructed, guiding his hand to rest lightly on your waist. You took his other hand in yours and began to sway gently to the rhythm, leading him in a basic two-step.

Spencer tried to follow, his movements slightly awkward at first. “I’m not sure I’m doing this right.”

“You’re doing fine,” you reassured him, smiling up at him. “Just trust your instinct.”

“My instinct is to find the nearest exit door.”

“No escaping tonight. You’re stuck with me,” you teased, your other hand holding onto his shoulder. “Besides, I think you’re doing pretty well for someone who claims to be bad at dancing.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his confidence growing slightly. “You think so?”

“Yep,” you replied, giving him a grin. “In fact, I’d say you’re almost a natural.”

“Almost?” he echoed, a teasing note in his voice. “What do I need to do to earn the proper title?”

“Maybe a spin?” You suggested, already positioning yourself lightly. With an encouraging nod, you prompted him, and he took the cue, lifting his arm and carefully guiding you into a smooth spin under his hold. You twirled gracefully and came back into his arms, beaming up at him.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Pretty impressive.”

He smiled, and a warmth spread through you, a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was wrong, you knew that. You knew you were stepping into dangerous territory, blurring lines that should remain clear. But at that moment, all those concerns seemed distant and unimportant, especially when the music suddenly turned slower.

The soft, sultry notes of a saxophone filled the air as you moved closer to him, gently grabbing his hands before guiding them to rest behind your back.

“Now this,” you began, moving your arms around his neck. “Is how you dance to a slow song.”

Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft expression that made his whole features light up. He pulled you gently against his chest. “I think I prefer this type of dance better.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt. “Me too.”

You felt a hand press gently on your lower back, drawing you even closer as you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He smelled of fresh soap and something sweet, like vanilla or honey—a combination that you could easily find yourself getting addicted to.

The thought surprised you. For someone who loathed men, who had built a life around a cold, calculated revenge against them, you found Spencer oddly comforting. It was unsettling how natural it felt to be this close to him, how safe he made you feel.

You could almost laugh at the irony. Here you were, a woman fueled by a desire for vengeance, finding solace in the arms of a man. It was reckless. Dangerous. You needed to keep your head in the game. Allowing yourself to get distracted, to feel these warm, tender emotions, was a risk you couldn’t afford.

But as you pressed your face closer to the crook of his neck, it became increasingly difficult to push him away. You knew you had to be cautious. You knew you needed to keep your head clear, your focus sharp, and you promised yourself that you would.

But not now. Not when his touch made you feel something you hadn’t felt in years. For now, you allowed yourself to surrender to the moment, to the warmth of his embrace, to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, and to the fleeting sense of peace that felt so foreign yet so desperately needed.

~*~

Spencer wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. He found himself awkwardly moving close to you, then pulling back, reaching out as if to take your hand, then stopping himself. The hesitation gnawed at him, torn between wanting to hold your hand and maintaining a respectful distance.

Was it too soon? Was there a rule about holding hands on the first date?

He mentally sifted through his limited experiences, trying to recall any useful advice or guidelines. But all he could think about was how natural it had felt to dance with you, to be close to you. He glanced over, catching the soft glow of the streetlights across your face. You looked serene, content, and he wished he could just follow his instincts without second-guessing every move.

“What?” You asked without looking at him. “Why are you staring at me?

He quickly directed his gaze away from you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You turned to him with a small, amused smile. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I was just curious.”

He hesitated as you both continued to walk, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps blending with the quiet night. Finally, he decided to be honest. “I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment. I guess I’m not very good with this sort of thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I wanted to hold your hand,” he blurted, his face flushing slightly. “But I wasn’t sure if it was too soon. I didn’t want to seem too forward or make you uncomfortable. I’m sure there’s a whole rule to this that I don’t know about, and I’ve been overthinking it the entire walk.”

You chuckled softly. “Spencer, you don’t need to worry so much.”

He took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… can I hold your hand?”

“Of course, you can,” you replied. “I’d really like that.”

His face lit up as he reached out, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You laughed at his boyish smile. “So this is why you’ve been silent this whole time?”

“I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“And here I thought you didn’t want to talk to me because you didn’t enjoy my company.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, not at all! I was just worried about doing something wrong.”

“I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong tonight.”

He looked at you, relief washing over his face. “Really?”

“Well, except for making me wait for a whole hour.”

He winced at your words. “Sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Don’t worry. The flowers were worth the wait,” you said, holding up the bouquet in your other hand. “And besides, I enjoyed dancing with you, I had a great time talking to you, and now you’re walking me home, which is definitely a bonus point.”

“So you’re keeping scores?” He asked, finding this conversation amusing. “What’s my score now?”

You pretended to think, a smile playing on your lips. “Well, punctuality could use some work, but excellent choice in flowers, charming dance skills, and chivalrous escort service? I’d say you’re doing quite well. Maybe an eight out of ten?”

“An eight? What happened to the last two points?”

“You need to earn them.”

“How?”

You slowed your pace, pulling him to a stop under a streetlight.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed. He hesitated for a moment, then complied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shut his eyes.

“Okay. Now what?”

You stood on your toes, trying to match his height, and leaned in close. Then, with a quick flutter of excitement, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

His eyes widened in surprise. “I—uh, what—”

You just laughed, a light and carefree sound that cut through the night. “You just gained another point, Dr. Reid.”

Before he knew it, you turned and dashed away, your laughter trailing behind you playfully. He couldn't help but smile at the sound, and, almost without thinking, he started chasing after you.

Spencer wasn't sure why he was running, or even why this felt like the most natural thing to do, but he didn't care. Your laughter was infectious, and when he finally caught up, wrapping his arms around your waist, he couldn't stop laughing.

"Got you," he said, grinning as he met your gaze.

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, taking in the way you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. There was a certain glow about you, a warmth that seemed to radiate across your face. His gaze then drifted down to your lips, slightly parted and still bearing the sweetest smile he had ever seen, and he felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest.

He liked seeing you like this. You always looked so confident and poised, but now you seemed... happy. There was a lightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before, and like a moth to a flame, he wanted to bask in your warmth.

Without thinking, he slowly closed the gap between you, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. The world seemed to hold its breath as he leaned in, and then, gently, he kissed you.

Your lips were so soft.

He had imagined they would be, but not like this—not as delicate, not as perfectly in sync with his. The sensation was more than he had ever expected, more than he had allowed himself to hope for. His tongue gently traced your bottom lip, and the soft moan that escaped you urged him even further.

He pulled you closer, and you parted your lips to invite him in. The moment his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he was lost in the rush of flavors and sensations. Your tongues danced together, exploring, tasting, savoring every second while everything around him started to blur into shadows and muffled sounds.

He was so engrossed, so utterly consumed by the taste of you, that he completely forgot he was standing in the middle of a bustling sidewalk. It wasn't until he heard the distinct sound of a throat being cleared that reality snapped back into focus. Pulling slightly away, he turned his head towards the sound and met the stern gaze of an older woman passing by.

“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling incredibly flustered. The woman simply huffed and continued on her way, shaking her head.

You giggled as you reached up to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth. “I thought you weren’t good with this sort of thing.”

“I’m not,” he assured you, his thumb gently brushing your sides. “This is... definitely a first for me.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you don’t usually make out with girls on busy sidewalks?”

The laugh he let out sounded almost ludicrous, as if the image of him kissing girls in public seemed completely out of character, out of place—until now, to his surprise.

“Nope, can’t say that I do.”

You smiled and tugged on his arm. “Come on.”

You walked together, and Spencer took your hand again. His grip tightened slightly, almost unconsciously, as if he wanted to imprint the way your hand felt into his memory. He was acutely aware of the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers fit perfectly with his. And this sense of wanting to hold onto you grew even stronger when you finally arrived at your building.

“This is me,” you said softly, turning to face him.

He looked down at your intertwined hands. “This is you.”

There was a brief, tense silence before you softly called out his name. He met your gaze, and dear god, how could he let go when you looked at him like that? He was mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled under the light, the soft curve of your smile, the gentle confidence in your stance.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you going to ask how you can earn your last point?”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your question, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Alright,” he said. “How can I earn my last point?”

Then he saw it, the same glint in your eyes that he had noticed when you were dancing on stage. It was a look filled with flirtation, exuding sex appeal and confidence. The way your eyes sparkled under the ambient light, the subtle but assured smile playing on your lips, all pointed to someone who knew exactly what they were doing and enjoyed the game just as much as the outcome.

“Well,” you started. “How about you come upstairs and we can figure it out together?”

Spencer’s heart raced at your words. He might not have had much experience when it came to dating, but he knew the look on your face all too well because he was sure he had the same expression. His eyes fell to your lips.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Because you’re trying to remain professional?” You asked, recalling his exact words the other night. “Spencer, I think you’ve long forgotten about that the moment you agreed to spend the evening with me.”

He felt a rush of warmth at your words, realizing just how right you were. The boundaries he usually upheld seemed irrelevant now, replaced by the desire to be closer to you. He sighed, the tension easing slightly as he admitted, “I guess you’re right.”

You stepped closer, your smile seductive. “So, how about we stop worrying about what’s appropriate and just enjoy ourselves?”

He was going to regret this.

“What do you have in mind?”

He was really going to regret this.

“I think you already know what I have in mind.”

Oh, screw it. If regret was the price he had to bear, then he was willing to pay it.

~*~

The crowd pulsed when you stepped out into the main area, heels clicking sharply against the floor. You took in the scene before you, passing sleazy men, some slipping tips to a dancer on stage, others getting lap dances in the dimly lit corners. A group of men in sharp suits whistled when they spotted you, and you winked at them, flipping your hair back with a playful gesture before continuing on.

You could feel heavy stares watching your every move, but despite being in a room full of men, there was only one man you had your eyes on.

You spotted him by the bar with a drink in his hand, and despite your meticulous planning to bring him back here to observe him, the sight of the man who ripped off your dreams as a naive sixteen-year-old girl never failed to ignite a burning rage within you. You wondered whether his memory was as vivid as yours, if he remembered the disgusting things he had done. But there was never any sign of recognition in his eyes, just as there hadn’t been in the eyes of the three before him.

They all thought you were just a woman trying to make ends meet, working every night in this dark place by taking your clothes off on stage. To them, you were just another pretty face, another body to gawk at. They believed you were just another girl trapped in the cycle of survival, oblivious to the deadly game you were playing.

You had crafted this persona carefully, every move, every word designed to lure them in, to make them feel comfortable, even powerful. They had no idea that you held their fate in your hands. You made them think they were taking advantage of a desperate woman, but in reality, they were the ones being manipulated, guided like pawns towards their inevitable downfall.

And tonight, it was his turn. The last of the men who had tainted your innocence.

You slipped into the empty stool beside him, a coy smile playing on your lips. “I thought I saw a familiar face.”

He turned towards you, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, your voice a soft purr. The words were easy, almost natural.

“You’ve been quite the distraction for me,” he admitted. “Couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You laughed lightly. “Good, because I aim to please.”

“And you’re very pleasing to look at,” he agreed, his eyes tracing the curve of your smile. “You have a way of captivating an audience.”

“Well, it’s nice to know I have such a dedicated fan.” You leaned loser so your shoulders brushed. “What brings you here tonight? A fight with the missus?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. She’s out of town.”

You knew that already. You knew his schedule as well as he did, if not better. But you feigned innocence, like you always did.

“Lucky me then,” you replied with a flirtatious tilt of your head. “It means I get to have you all to myself tonight.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, his eyes roaming over you with undisguised interest. “I really couldn’t stop thinking about you lately.”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Really? What exactly have you been thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to spend some real time with you. Away from the club.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh? And what exactly would we do with that time?”

His hand brushed against your thigh under the table, a bold move that was more telling than any words. “I think you know what I mean.”

You pulled back slightly, giving him a flirtatious look. “You know it’s against the rules to do anything too... personal here. The club has strict policies about that sort of thing.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping for more than just a dance.”

You smiled slyly, your eyes locking onto his with a promise. “Who says we have to stay here?”

His grin widened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, brushing your fingers along his arm. “We could go somewhere else…” you murmured, your hand continuing a path up his shoulder, tracing the line of his suit jacket. “Somewhere we can really enjoy each other’s company.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your suggestion. “Like where?”

You let your lips brush his ear. “How about your place? Your wife isn't there, we can use it however we want.”

There was a pause as he considered your words. You could see the wheels turning, the temptation playing across his face. Sensing his uncertainty, you placed your hand gently on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your fingertips.

“Think about it,” you coaxed softly, your voice a seductive whisper. “Just you and me, no rules, no eyes watching...” Your body inched closer to his. “It’ll be our little secret.”

His eyes darkened with anticipation, the earlier reluctance fading away under your touch. “Alright,” he said after a brief pause. “Let’s go back to my place.”

You smiled triumphantly, standing up, brushing the nonexistent dust on his shoulders. “Meet me at the back exit in five. I need to grab my purse.”

He nodded excitedly as he watched you walk away, mesmerized by the confidence in the sway of your hips. But the moment you stepped into the dressing room, your façade cracked.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as you fought to keep your composure. The walls seemed to close in, the air thinning around you as if suffocating you under the weight of your own emotions. Your breath became shallow, the world spinning slightly as a wave of dizziness and anger overwhelmed you all at once.

You slowly forced yourself to move, your feet dragging you over towards the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable. The confident, seductive woman from moments was now replaced with a figure trembling under the weight of her memories.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the past rushed back in a wave of emotion. The image of the young girl you once were, the girl whose dreams had been shattered by the man waiting for you outside, seemed to blend itself over your reflection. The pain, the anger, the helplessness—it all came flooding back, threatening to overwhelm you.

But you couldn’t let it. Not now.

Wiping away the tears with the back of your hand, you straightened up, forcing yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. You grabbed your purse and checked its contents one last time, making sure everything was in place, and checked your phone.

There was a message.

Your eyes welled up with tears again as you saw the name glaring back at you.

Dr. Reid :)

Just seeing his name was breaking your heart. He had been trying to contact you for days now, ever since that night you spent together. The night that had been a brief, beautiful distraction from the dark path you were on. He was kind, gentle, and you couldn’t stop thinking of the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

Each message was harder to ignore than the last, and he wasn’t just reaching out; he was trying to reach in. His words were always kind, always thoughtful.

I had a great time. Can we meet again?

Just thinking about you. Hope you're okay.

Did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep to keep from drifting apart?

His random messages of facts always made you smile because it was so authentically him—something you had never encountered before. And every time he tried to contact you, the walls you had carefully constructed around your heart began to crack. You longed to reach out to him, to relive those short moments of happiness that had brought a rare light into your life. But you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, it would only weaken your resolve.

So you had been avoiding him, giving excuses about being busy or not feeling well. His presence had a way of grounding you, and you couldn’t afford that now, not when you were so close to the end.

Your eyes fell to your phone again. Despite the knot tightening in your stomach, despite knowing how much it would hurt, you clicked open the message.

Can I see you tonight?

The words on the screen blurred as your grip tightened. A part of you wanted to see him again, to have his arms wrapped around your body, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. But surrendering to these desires would only put you in danger. It was only a matter of time until he saw through your act, and until then, you needed to move fast.

Because you knew that if you let him in, if you opened that door, you wouldn't be able to follow through with your plan. The plan that had consumed you for so long, and now with the final act right in front of you, you couldn't afford any distractions.

So you took a deep breath and crafted another lie.

I have work tonight. I'm sorry.

~*~

Spencer stared at the message, a frown creasing his forehead. Had he done something wrong?

He couldn't shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. He replayed the evening in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word exchanged. It had felt perfect to him—the connection, the chemistry. But now, your constant excuses and distant responses gnawed at him. Had he misread everything? Had he been too forward, or was there something he had missed?

"Reid?" Derek's voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbled, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You were saying?”

Derek opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Penelope entered the conference room with a laptop in her hand. "You guys are gonna love me," she sang, setting the device down.

“You found anything?” Derek asked.

“Remember that blurry picture of the tattoo you sent me a few days ago?” she turned her laptop screen towards them, showing a detailed emblem that was now clearly visible. "This isn't just any tattoo—it's mandatory for the members of a local club known for their… exclusive membership.”

“What kind of club?”

Penelope clicked through a few more screens, bringing up information she had compiled. “It’s a bit underground, not your typical social club. It appears to be part social, part cultural, but there are hints of something more... let's just say, illegal activities.”

“And all members have this tattoo?”

“Yep, it’s like a symbol of loyalty, almost like a badge of honor.”

Spencer felt a knot tightening in his stomach. “Is it… The Velvet Curtain?”

Penelope shook her head, typing quickly to bring up a comparison on her screen.

“No, The Velvet Curtain is just a fancy, exclusive strip club. This one, on the other hand…” She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she chose her words carefully, “...is much more secretive and, from what I can tell, much more dangerous. Think less about glamour and more about power and control."

“What kind of activities are we talking about?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual gambling and trafficking,” Penelope said dryly, scrolling through her screen. “I think you guys should check this out after we wrap up the case.”

Derek ignored her jab and crossed his arms. “So our victim can be anyone, which doesn't narrow it down much.” He turned to Penelope. “How many members are we talking about?”

“Over three hundred registered members.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of numbers.”

“Have you tried cross-referencing the members with Rick Sullivan?" Spencer suggested. "He might be our best lead.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Penelope’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she pulled up new data. After a few moments, she exclaimed, “Got it!”

Derek leaned in. “We have a name?”

Penelope quickly brought up a profile. “James Dalton, went to college with Rick. Mid-30s, a manager at a tech firm, lives in the suburbs with his family…” She trailed off, her eyes widening. “...and was reported missing a week ago.”

Spencer frowned, piecing it together. “He could be our John Doe.”

Penelope nodded, already typing away. “I’m cross-referencing his dental records and fingerprints as we speak.”

“You can do that?”

“You underestimate me, pretty boy,” she quipped with a smirk, her fingers flying over the keyboard. It didn't take long for her screen to flash with the confirmation she needed. “It’s a match. James Dalton is our John Doe. The dental records line up perfectly.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as they absorbed the news. Derek ran a hand over his face, breaking the silence with a sigh. “Did Rick and James ever contact each other after college?”

Penelope shook her head, scrolling through her data. “No, there’s no evidence of any recent communications. It looks like they hadn't been in touch for years until... well, until whatever pulled them back together recently.”

Spencer leaned closer to get a better view of Penelope’s screen. “Can you check his bank records? There could be any mutual transactions between them.”

“Pulling up his financials now,” she said, her eyes scanning the data that populated her screen. Moments later, she pointed at a series of numbers. “There are no mutual transactions… oh wow.”

“What is it?”

“He spent a lot of money over the past few months,” Penelope continued, her eyes wide with surprise. “We’re talking significant amounts.”

“Where?”

She looked up at him. “The Velvet Curtain.”

Spencer felt the blood drain from his body. It was as if a heavy, sinking feeling took hold, the kind that grips the stomach and pulls down hard. At first, he thought of your safety. The club you worked at was linked to the case, and worse, even directly to the victims. This connection sent chills down his spine, filling him with dread.

But the more he thought about it, especially when his mind replayed how you had been avoiding him lately, the worse his feelings grew. His concern turned into suspicion, and then that suspicion morphed into a sense of betrayal. Were you involved in this? Were you hiding something from him?

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t let his mind go there. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t. You were too kind, too genuine. There had to be another explanation.

“Reid, let’s go.”

Spencer looked up to see Derek standing by the door. “Where?”

“We need to go back there,” Derek said firmly. “We’re missing something.”

Spencer’s badge felt heavier than usual, the gun on his hip weighing him down. His mind was clouded with doubt, his heart pounding with anxiety. He always considered himself as someone who was confident when it came to his job, a man of knowledge who could win an argument with facts and logic. But now the lines of right and wrong seemed to blurred and he found himself questioning even his own judgment.

He let out a heavy breath. There was nothing else he could do but to follow Derek out of the room. He needed to see this through, for justice, for his peace of mind, and perhaps, for your innocence he hoped to prove.

~*~

You weren’t here.

I have work tonight, I’m sorry.

You weren’t here.

Spencer was trying to come up with excuses for your disappearance. Maybe you got sick. Maybe there was an emergency. His mind went through plausible scenarios, but none seemed to fit quite right, and his curiosity continued to gnaw at him. He braced himself and approached the club owner, hoping to gain some information under the pretense of connecting you as a witness.

The man, with a burly frame, salt-and-pepper hair, and a scowl etched on his face, barely let Spencer get the words out.

“She was here,” the owner grumbled. “Her set was half an hour ago and I haven’t seen her since. If I find out she’s skipping out on work again…” He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration.

Spencer felt his heart sank. “Again?”

He nodded gruffly. “Yeah, she’s been a bit unreliable lately. Shows up late, leaves early. It’s becoming a problem.”

“Did she mention anything to you?”

“She never says much. Keeps to herself mostly. If she’s in some kind of trouble, she’s not talking about it.” He gave Spencer a once-over. “You know her personally?”

Caught off-guard, Spencer quickly shook his head. “No. I’ve just heard she might have some useful information on the case we’re working on.”

The owner seemed to accept this, nodding slightly. “Well, good luck with that. If you find her, tell her she’s got some explaining to do.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him even more. The pressure in his chest was almost suffocating. He knew he needed to focus on trying to find out anything about James Dalton, but his mind kept turning to you, unable to shake the fear that something terrible had happened, or worse, or worse, that you might somehow be involved.

“What was that all about?”

He looked up to see Derek watching him closely. “Nothing.”

Derek studied him for a moment, noting the slight shift in his demeanor, the way his eyes darted away. “Reid, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine."

“You know you can talk to me if something’s up, right?”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he sighed, his expression softening. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just focus on the case.”

Derek studied him for a moment longer, wanting to press further, but was stopped when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, saw Penelope’s name, and quickly switched it to speaker.

“Found something new?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Penelope's voice came through with urgency. “Have you found anything interesting yet?”

“No, nothing solid on our end,” Derek replied, glancing at Spencer who remained focused but visibly tense. “What did you find?"

“I think you should take this somewhere private,” Penelope suggested cautiously.

Derek nodded, catching Spencer’s eye and motioning for him to follow. They navigated through the bustling backstage area, moving past busy staff and performers until they spotted an empty dressing room. He ushered Spencer inside and shut the door behind them.

“We’re out of earshot,” Derek confirmed, his tone low. “Go ahead.”

“Alright, listen,” Penelope began, her voice serious. “I’ve been digging into the pasts of the two victims we identified and I found something disturbing that was buried deep in their college history. It took a lot of digging because it was almost completely erased from the public record.”

“What did you find?”

“There were reports of a group of men, including Sullivan and Dalton, who were accused of sexually assaulting a high school student who was a minor. The details were sketchy and it seems there was a significant effort to cover it up. The case never went to trial, the reports were sealed.”

“How many men were involved?”

“Four. Sullivan, Dalton, Mark Eldridge, and Robert Lawson.” There were some clicking noises in the background before Penelope continued, “Mark Eldridge was reportedly missing a few days ago, and I cross-checked his dental records with our second John Doe—it was a match.”

Derek let out a sigh. “This looks like some kind of revenge plot.” He ran a hand over his face, the weight of the situation sinking in. “What can you tell us about Lawson?”

Penelope quickly typed in a few commands. “Robert Lawson lives on the outskirts of town. He’s maintained a low profile over the years, but nothing in his recent history suggests he’s aware of the danger he might be in.”

Derek nodded, absorbing the information. “Alright, send us his address. We need to get to him before the Unsub does.”

“Sending it now,” Penelope confirmed.

“Garcia?”

Derek looked up to see Spencer standing at the edge of the room, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. His posture was tense, his face pale, and his breathing uneven. It was the most uncharacteristic of him Derek had ever seen.

“Who was the victim?” Spencer asked, his voice low, almost strained.

There was a brief pause as Penelope searched through her files. “Y/N L/N,” she answered quietly. “She was a high school student at the time, just sixteen. The case was buried deep, but it’s all here—she was threatened, her family was paid off, and the whole thing was hushed up.”

Derek felt a chill run down his spine. “And where is she now?”

Another pause, this one more tense, as Penelope gathered the final piece of information.

“She’s a dancer at The Velvet Curtain.”

Spencer felt his world tilt. The realization hit him like a freight train, his heart dropping like a stone into the depths of his stomach. It was as if the ground beneath his feet had turned to ice, sending him slipping into a dizzying spin of shock and disbelief. The pieces clicked together with the painful precision of a knife twisting in his gut. All the clues that had seemed disconnected before suddenly formed a clear, devastating picture.

“Reid.”

He couldn’t breathe, his chest tight with a constricting panic. The room closed in around him, the walls seeming to press closer with each labored breath.

“Reid.”

The reality made him feel sick.

“Reid!”

He needed to get out of here.

His feet carried him toward the door, pushing him outside to breathe. The fresh air hit his face, but it did little to ease the heaviness in his lungs.

“Reid, I need you to talk to me,” Derek’s voice followed behind him.

Spencer leaned against the cool brick wall, trying to steady his racing heart and chaotic thoughts. He struggled to find the words, the horror of the situation crashing over him like a relentless wave.

“What happened?”

He stared at Derek through blurry eyes. “It’s her,” he managed to choke out. “I-I didn’t know it was her…”

“Reid.” Derek stepped closer, gripping his shoulders. “Breathe.”

Spencer looked up at him, the pain suffocating his chest, building up inside until he couldn’t hold it back any longer. The words began tumbling out of his lips.

He told him everything. How you approached him that first night they came to the club, how you stood out in the crowd. He described the spark in your eyes when you had asked him out on a date and how hesitant he was at first until his curiosity got the better of him.

He recalled that night, how he felt a connection he hadn't known was missing. He told Derek about the conversations you shared, the laughter between you, and how deeply fulfilling it felt to be with someone who seemed to truly get him, a happiness he hadn't known before.

Derek stared at him when he finished. There was no judgment in his eyes, far from it, but what Spencer saw was even worse—it was pity.

“Reid…”

Spencer shook his head, trying to dismiss Derek’s sympathy that made him feel so exposed. “I know what this looks like,” he cut in quickly. “But you have to understand, it felt—everything with her felt real.”

“I know, I know. I believe you, man, it’s just—”Derek sighed. “You’re too involved in this.”

Spencer met his gaze. “I never wanted to be this involved.”

Derek let out another sigh, something he couldn’t stop doing when the person he considered as his little brother was going through so much pain. He took out his phone from his pocket. “Look, let me call Hotch and tell him to send someone else—”

Spencer quickly grabbed Derek’s arm, stopping him from dialing. “No,” he insisted. “I need to do this. I want to see her.”

“I don’t think—“

“I have to,” Spencer pleaded. “I need to. I can’t… I just… I need to see her.”

“Reid, she’s dangerous. She’s killed three men before, and there’s a chance she might do the same to you.”

Spencer shook his head. “What she’s doing is for revenge, you said that yourself. She won’t hurt me.”

“But—“

“Morgan, please,” Spencer interrupted, the desperation clear in his voice. “Let me talk to her. This might be my only chance.”

Derek watched him closely, seeing the pain and determination in his eyes. It was clear Spencer wasn’t going to back down, and understanding this, he finally gave in.

“Fine. But we’re taking every precaution, okay? You’re not going in alone.” Spencer nodded gratefully. “And I’m still calling for backup.”

“Of course,” he agreed, watching Derek turn around.

Spencer silently followed him back to the car as he replayed every moment without you. He tried to search for any clues he might have missed, wondering how he had been so blind, so caught up in his feelings. The thought of you being the one behind those murders was too much for him to bear, yet he knew he had to confront you. He had to know why you did it. He had to know whether any of those moments you shared together was as magical for you as it was for him, even though he was scared of the answers, of this new, cruel reality.

He just had to see you, no matter how painful it might be.

~*~

Your last victim was the easiest. You’d think he would have struggled a bit, or maybe he’d see right through your act. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had seen you, and sure, you might have looked different, but you still had the same features from when you were young. Your eyes. Your smile. You were still you, just older.

But he never noticed, because as soon as you started to seduce him, he was just like the others. All they sought was your body, or the thought of it, the fantasy they spun so easily in their minds. You realized that another thing that hadn’t changed was their disgusting perception of you, not as a person, but as an object for their desires.

Despite their oblivious nature, it came to your benefit. It was easy to put the drug in his drink, not much, but enough to make him drowsy. Enough for his body to go limp so you could tie his hands behind his back easily. You could see his brows creasing as he struggled to keep his eyes open. You knew the sedative was starting to get to his brain.

You managed to drag his body to his study. You had pulled him by his feet, his head occasionally bumping along the floor. He groaned but didn’t do much, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. His eyes, heavy and confused, flickered with a dim recognition of his state, a useless attempt to grasp the situation that was slowly escaping his control.

And you loved it.

“W-What…” He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “…help…”

You left him there to struggle as you grabbed the can of gasoline from his backyard, which you had hidden there that morning when he was at work. You wondered briefly if he had noticed it when he came back home, but just like the others, he was oblivious. It was still right where you left it.

You carried it back into the study and noticed his eyes widening slightly, a fear starting to seep through his confusion. You unscrewed the cap, the pungent smell filling the room, and stared down at him.

That was when you heard the ringing.

It was a loud, jarring noise and your eyes settled onto the house phone sitting on his desk. The sound was out of place, cutting through the tension-filled silence like a knife as you waited for it to stop. It kept on going, on and on, until the answering machine clicked on, and a familiar voice cut through the room, calling out your name.

You let out a cry. The sound of Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed in your ears, the voice you had hoped to avoid was now invading this moment.

“Pick up the phone,” he pleaded. “Please.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when his voice was already starting to shake your defenses.

The call ended not long after that. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain your composure. But then the phone rang again. This time, his message was more desperate.

“Talk to me, please, I know what you’ve been through... I just want to help.”

The gasoline can shook in your grip. Help was the last thing you needed. “I don't want any help," you muttered to yourself, the words barely audible over his voice cutting through the answering machine.

“I-I’ll be here if you need me, you don't have to go through this alone.”

"I don't want any help.”

But he kept on, his voice calm yet insistent. "I know you're in pain, but this—this isn't the way to solve things. Answer me, please, let me help—“

It was your last straw. You finally snatched up the phone. "I don't want any help!"

You were met with a stunned silence on the other end. It was deafening, stretching out long enough for the reality of who was on the other end to sink in.

“…Spencer?”

“I’m here,” he replied softly. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Hearing his voice, so familiar and filled with genuine care, made you pause. For a split second, the walls you had built around your heart trembled. You wanted to scream at him, to push him away, but a part of you longed for his presence.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why are you not going anywhere?”

“Because I…” There was a pause. “Because I care about you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst. “You do?”

“I do,” he confessed. “More than I should have.”

You sniffed, gently placing the gasoline on top of the wooden surface of the desk. “Because you’re an FBI agent and I’m a stripper?” You wondered, recalling the same question you had asked him days ago.

“You know it was never about that,” he said. “But you’re smart enough to know the real reason.”

You glanced back at the man lying on the floor, barely conscious, his breaths shallow and labored. Spencer’s voice rang in your ears again.

“Don’t do this… please.”

You swallowed, your heart beating fast. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I’ll give you three,” he responded quickly. “One, you’re not a bad person.”

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“Two, you deserve a chance to find real peace.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, the resolve in your heart wavering.

“And three,” Spencer’s voice softened. “Because I want to dance with you again.”

The memory of that night, the connection you felt, rushed back, overwhelming your rage that you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. “Yeah?”

“I want you to teach me again,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m still not very good at it.”

The image of the two of you dancing at the bar brought a bittersweet ache to your heart. But it wasn’t enough to overwhelm the anger, the deep-seated rage that had driven you for so long.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the phone, the words escaping in a breath so faint it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room.

Spencer heard it, though. “Don’t say that. It’s not over,” he pleaded. “We can still have more nights out, more dances.”

“Spencer, stop.”

“Think about it,” he continued, his voice softening as he tried a different approach. “Your family, they would rather take the money than fight for you. They left you to fend for yourself when you needed them the most.”

“Spencer…”

“And you’ve carried that weight for so long. You’ve been so strong, but now you’re not alone, you have me. So don’t let their choices define you,” he muttered. “You’re better than this.”

His words struck a nerve.

“Better than this?” You suddenly snapped, anger flaring up again. “You don’t know me. Just because we had one date, it doesn’t mean you understand what I’ve been through.”

“I don’t know everything you’ve been through,” Spencer admitted. “But I know pain. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned and betrayed.”

He paused, the line silent for a moment before he continued with a heavy sigh.

“When I was in school, a girl asked me to meet her by the school field one day… only for the football team to show up instead. They tied me up to a goalpost and stripped me naked in front of all the students.” He took a deep breath. “Everyone laughed and stared, and no one did anything to stop them.”

You knew what he was trying to do. And partly, it worked. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. You imagined how sad it must have been for him, how traumatic and devastating that experience must have been. It was heartbreaking to picture him in that situation. But despite your sympathy, it didn’t suppress the anger inside you.

As painful as his story sounded, you knew you’d rather take his place instead of enduring what you had experienced.

“Spencer, it’s not the same,” you said, your voice trembling. “What they did to you was horrible, but what happened to me… it destroyed everything.”

“I know it’s not the same,” he replied quietly. “But pain is pain. And it doesn’t have to define us. We can choose—“

“Pain is pain?” You cried, finally letting go of the tears you had been holding back. “You know what’s painful? Hearing your story and the first thing that came up to my mind was how I’d rather take your place, because unlike you, those men didn’t stop after they stripped me naked.”

The anger boiled over, and you couldn't stop yourself, tears streamed down your face as raw, unfiltered pain poured out in your words.

"Do you know what it feels like to be young and helpless? To have four men twice your size assault you?" You screamed, losing any semblance of control you had left. "Do you fucking know how it feels to see these disgusting men get away with everything while you have to endure the nightmares, the flashbacks, the fear every single day?"

Your voice broke, heavy sobs wracking your body.

"Do you know how it feels to be broken, to be so destroyed that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror without hating what you see?”

Silence fell, your heavy breathing the only sound in the aftermath of your outburst. Spencer's voice was gentle when he finally spoke. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course, you didn’t. Because you’re a man, after all.” You picked up the gasoline again, the weight heavy in your hand. “You’re just like them… all you want to do is to save them.”

“That’s not what I—”

“And you’re fucking wasting my time.”

You slammed the phone down, cutting off the connection.

You moved on instinct. You looked down at the man on the floor, his eyes half-open, barely conscious. You regarded him one last time before you poured the gasoline over his body. The fumes rose in the air as you spread the liquid around the room, creating a trail that led to the door. At some point, one of your heels cracked, and you kicked them off, feeling the cold ground beneath your feet. It was a minor inconvenience, nothing compared to the gravity of what you were about to do.

When you finally reached a safe distance from the house, you paused, taking one last deep breath, throwing the empty can onto the ground. The weight of your past, your pain, and your anger all converged in this single moment. You took out the lighter, your hands trembling as the reality of what you were about to do settled in.

You flicked the lighter, the small flame dancing in the night air. For a moment, you were transfixed by it, the flickering light a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you. Everything you had endured, everything that had brought you to this point, seemed to hinge on this tiny flame.

With a flick of your hand, you let it fall to the ground.

The flame kissed the trail of gasoline, igniting it instantly. The fire took life, racing along the path with a hunger that matched your own rage. It moved back toward the house, consuming everything it touched, fueled by the fume and your deep-seated desire for retribution.

The flames grew and the fire roared louder, its crackling sound filling the silence of the night. The house began to catch, the flames eagerly climbing the walls. The sight was mesmerizing yet horrifying, and you stood rooted to the spot, the fire reflecting in your eyes, casting light on the tears that streaked down your face.

You felt a smile forming on your lips.

So this was what it felt like, to watch the ashes drift through the air. To smell the acid scent of smoke. To feel the heat envelop you, wrapping your body like a suffocating blanket. To hear the sound of the world cracking and crumbling under the force of your wrath. It was beautiful, and you were mesmerized by the flames, the destruction—they were your creation, your justice.

But deep down, it was so much more than that. This wasn’t just for you, but for everyone else who had been silenced, who couldn’t do anything. You realized your anger was more than just a personal vendetta. It was a voice for the voiceless, a stand against those who had used their power to hurt and destroy.

You thought of all the others who had been through the same hell, who had been left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives alone, who had been dismissed by a system that should have protected them.

The fire was for them, too.

You continued to watch the flame dance through the night sky, and that was when you heard it, the distant sound of vehicles approaching you. The crunch of gravel under tires grew louder and you stayed rooted where you were.

There was no running from this, no escaping what was to come. You had chosen this path, you had already accepted the consequences long before the first match was struck.

As you turned around, a group of people in FBI vests came rushing out, some frantically calling for backup as they watched the fire consume the house, while a few others pointed their weapons towards you. But your eyes were fixed on the man who had given you a glimpse of hope, the man who had tried to save you.

You felt tears streaming down your face as Spencer approached you, and you sobbed uncontrollably, the reality of what you had done sinking in.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I-I had to do it.”

“Reid.”

An older FBI agent standing close called him, his tone a clear warning, but Derek, the other agent who you had also seen at the club, placed a hand on his shoulder. The older agent hesitated, then remained silent, allowing Spencer to approach you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Spencer’s eyes took in your appearance. The confident woman he had always known was nowhere to be found, replaced by this version of you—vulnerable, sad, and angry at the world. The sight of you barefoot, the dirt and grime clinging to your skin, made it even more heartbreaking. Your hair was disheveled, your face was streaked with tears. The raw emotion in your eyes tore at his heart.

“I—I’m sorry too,” he whispered.

You let out a choked sob. “I… I-I really had fun that night.”

Spencer nodded helplessly. “It was the best night of my life.”

Your sobs grew louder, feeling the air restrict your lungs. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get to do it again.”

He shook his head. “We could.”

“You know well we couldn’t,” you murmured. The pain in his eyes after those words left your mouth was too much—that raw, unguarded hurt—and you had to close your eyes, not wanting to see it.

In that brief darkness you wondered what would have happened if you had never gone through with any of this. Would you still have crossed his path? Would things have been different? But no, your rage was too consuming, too deep-seated for you to second guess the path you had chosen.

His soft voice whispered your name, and you blinked your eyes open, noticing his outstretched arm.

“Dance with me.”

You let out a painful cry. “Spencer… don’t make it harder than it already is.”

“Please, I… I just want to hold you.” You stared at his hand trembling under the firelight. “Please.”

You had never felt so much pain, a crushing weight on your heart, and against your better judgment, you took his hand. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as if trying to memorize every detail of your body pressed against his.

The world seemed to pause. You let your mind be happy for a while, you let it travel to the simple, mundane things you wished you could do with him—walking hand in hand through a park, sharing quiet breakfasts, laughing together over something silly, and feeling his comforting presence beside you during the small, quiet times in bed.

You dreamed of a life where your past didn’t haunt you, where the weight of your decisions didn’t crush your spirit. You dreamed of waking up to his smile, of whispered conversations in the dark, of his naked body pressed against yours as he whispered sweet nothings to your ear. You allowed yourself to fantasize of a life filled with those ordinary, beautiful moments, a life that felt so achingly close yet so painfully out of reach.

But the fire’s glow around you was a reminder of the reality you couldn’t escape. Still, for a few moments, the night around you seemed to fade, the chaos and destruction reduced to a distant backdrop. His hands were gentle on your back, holding you as if you were something precious, something to be cherished, someone to be loved.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he murmured into your hair.

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, those deep brown eyes you knew you were going to miss. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The sorrow there was mirrored in your own, a mutual recognition of the pain you both felt. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, as if trying to commit every detail to memory. The color of your eyes, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice. He wanted to remember you for a lifetime.

With tears streaming down your face, you leaned into him, savoring the bittersweet moment. You ignored everything around you. The noise, the chaos, the destruction—all of it faded into the background. It was just the two of you, as if nothing else mattered.

And nothing else did.

So you danced for the last time, holding on to each other desperately, each step a silent prayer, each turn a tender goodbye, as the world continued to burn.

~*~

“Can't seem to hold you like I want to,

So I can feel you in my arms.

Nobody's gonna come and save you,

We pulled too many false alarms.”

~*~

A/n: If you managed to make it to the end, I applaud you! Thank you from taking the time to read this fic. I’m very self conscious about this because not only does it have 14k words, the plot is also very heavy. But I’m happy with how it turned out and I hope you liked it too. Also, I could go on and on about why I chose this specific plot, but I’d be talking too much here. So if you want to further discuss this story, feel free to send me asks. I’ll gladly reply to them <3

#lou’s birthday party🎉#unsub reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #angst #dark fic #angst with no happy ending

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charliehoennam · 6 months ago

Text

angel part 3

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis takes his crush/neighbor out on their first date and gets a little carried away.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

It's another hot night in Los Angeles.

You step out of your bathroom wrapped in your towel, fresh out of the shower. Rummaging through the messy closet that you've yet to finish organizing due to the move, you try to mentally plan your outfit.

Thinking about what to wear, you push between the hangers and through your clothes for a better look. You find a nice, short, red dress that's both casual and elegant enough for a first date. You match it with a pair of cute ballet flats that accentuate your feet and legs.

Meanwhile, Lou secretly watches you set out your outfit on the bed. There’s a certain thrill that he enjoys about watching you.

He thinks it’s rather sweet how naïve you are, but he’s also aware that it could lead you to potential danger in the wrong hands. That’s why he’s taking it upon himself to protect you.

He’s seen and filmed plenty of horrible things happen to the young innocent girls of L.A who unknowingly put themselves in harm’s way. He doesn’t want that to happen to you. Better than anyone else, he knows what evil men can be capable of. Whether you know it or not, you need him.

His tongue grazes his bottom lip as he watches you take your towel off. Your hair and make-up are all ready. Now, you just have to get dressed.

Hanging your towel over your closet door to dry, you walk over to the side of your bed to grab your favorite lotion from your nightstand.

With concentrated wide eyes, Louis watches from afar as you squeeze the scented lotion onto your palm. Propping your foot on the mattress, you rub the creamy lotion onto your shin first and gradually work your way up to your thigh.

Louis admires you as if admiring a work of art. The way your breasts dangle as you bend over to rub your shin, the folds on your stomach that bunch together, the curve of your ass when you switch your attention to the other leg, the way your ass jiggles when you rub the lotion over your cheeks.

"That's a great ass," he thinks to himself. “Why there though? Does she expect me to touch her there tonight? That would be too forward, wouldn’t it? Is this a sign that you want me too? Oh, you naughty little angel.”

He smirks at the hope of getting to go to fourth base with you again, but with you actually conscious this time.

He stops himself from getting too excited when he sees you putting on your underwear. The way you cautiously select a matching lacy pair indicates, to him, that there’s a strong chance he might get to see it. Just actually on you instead of in your drawer.

Forcing himself away from the window, he takes one last look at himself in the mirror. Adjusting his brown suit jacket, he decides to undo the top button of his white shirt hoping that his subtle flaunting of his chest will give out the signals he’s looking for.

Noting a couple of strands by his ear, he takes his comb to smooth them back into place. He gently presses his palm against the area after spraying a quick mist of hairspray to keep them there.

After a quick spritz of cologne behind each ear, he adds the stolen watch he’d taken from a security guard long before his days as a rising entrepreneur. It sits a little loose on his wrist, but he doesn’t mind it enough to take it off.

Stepping into his bathroom, he stares at himself blankly before opening the medicine cabinet. He takes the sleeping pills he’d used on you before and opens the orange bottle to take a couple of doses. Once they’re placed in a small plastic baggie, he crushes them up with the use of the cup on his sink he usually uses when brushing his teeth. Satisfied with their powdered fineness, he tucks the baggie into his wallet and closes the cabinet.

You come out of your apartment and walk out of the building to find Louis waiting for you outside with his hands tucked into his pockets. He flashes a genuine smile at you as you approach.

“Wow, you look spectacular, Y/N.”

“Thanks. I didn’t wanna overdo it” you smile shyly, pressing your cheek against his to greet him with a friendly kiss. He doesn’t quite kiss you back, surprising by the act, but he’s very happy about it because it’s a positive sign that you’re getting comfortable with him. “You smell really good, by the way. Are you wearing cologne?”

“Yes, I am. I hope it’s not a bother? Special occasions call for special measures.”

“Is this a special occasion?” you smirk up at him.

“Of course, it is. It’s not every day that I get to take the most beautiful lady in the complex out to dinner.”

Your cheeks warm at his compliment.

“It’s not a bother at all. I really like the scent actually.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. May I call you sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. You don’t think anyone’s ever asked your permission to call you a pet name, but you kind of like it. His wardrobe might be a little plain and a touch outdated, but his manners nearly make you wet.

“I thought we could maybe go to this place called Cabanita. They have the best beef fajitas” he smiles leading you over to his dodge challenger.

The cherry red color makes it impossible to miss. You'd noticed it when Matt whistled upond seeing it in the parking lot. You had no idea it belonged to a guy like Louis.

It was a big contrast to his rather timid personality. You would have guessed it belonged to someone little more obnoxious.

"This is your ride?" You ask trying to not look surprised.

"Yeah. Is that alright? I promise I won't drive above the speed limit if that's your concern" he chuckes opening the passenger door.

"Yeah, it's completely fine. Just a really nice car" you smile walking closer to slide into the passenger seat.

He thanks you for the compliment and walks around the front to slide into the driver's seat.

"Seat belt on?" You nod as he clicks in his before starting up the car.

As he pulls out of his parking space, your eyes wander around the vehicle. It's spotlessly clean and neat without a single wrapper lying around. The faint scent of pinewood radiates from the scented pine tree hanging from the mirror.

"So have you been there before?"

You hum looking over at him as he pulls out of your thoughts.

"Cabanita? Have you been there before?" He asks he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"No, I haven't. I've heard about it though."

"Boy, are you in for a treat then. It's one of my favorite places. There's an excellent vegetarian empanada too, if you're not into meat."

"I suppose I'll have a hard time choosing what to eat then.”

"There's no rush anyway. The purpose of this is to get to know each other better after all, right?”

You nod in agreement.

"And they've got a great selection of drinks too. Of course, I won't be indulging too much. Alcohol and driving is never a safe combination."

You smile at him thinking about how your ex used to drink and drive. You like that he's responsible, not only with himself, but your presence too. He makes you feel safe.

"I really appreciate that. Maybe afterwards, we could have a night cap at my place? I mean, as long as you don't mind the mess. It's better than the last time you saw it, but there's still some things to organize."

He smiles widely at the thought of being in your apartment again.

"I would love that, sweetheart."

Upon arriving at the restaurant, you're led to a table for two by the polite hostess. Sitting in the rounded booth of your table, you look around the beautiful decoration of Mexican flair.

"This place is beautiful. I can't believe I've never been here before."

"Neither can I. Please don't this the wrong way, but I would assume a woman as beautiful as yourself would be often taken out on dates?"

You don't know exactly how to respond.

"I just mean that any man would be happy to take you out for a wine and dine."

"I don't know about that" your cheeks warm. "I haven't been on a date in a while, to be honest."

"That's a little hard to believe. I'd imagine you have guys lining up for an opportunity like this."

"I wish" you chuckle smiling widely at his flirtation. "It is really nice to be here tonight though. I'm glad we did this."

"I am too" he smiles.

You spend the rest of the evening sharing bits and pieces of personal information about yourselves. You tell him how you moved to California, where you're from and the area you work in.

He shares that he's a native to L.A and that he's a business man, specializing in news report filming. He also shares that his parents are deceased and jokes about you not having to deal with troubling in-laws when you apologize for his loss. It happened a long time ago and he was raised by his grandmother who is too no longer around.

You love how Louis listens to you and questions you, making the conversation naturally effortless. It’s a very pleasant change from the men you’d met over tinder giving online dating a chance.

Learning more about your hobbies, interests and area of expertise, Louis is hopeful that you’d make a great match. He strongly believes you’re a potential candidate for him to settle down with, but only time can confirm that. There’s still so much more he needs to revie, but his investment in you is already rather hopeful.

Once you've enjoyed your dinner and dessert over endless talks about each other, you both agree to head back to your place for a night cap.

When he walks into your apartment, he tries to act like he's never been there before. Like everything is new and he doesn't already know all the books or CDs you have on your shelf. Or the shampoo and perfume you wear. Or what your favorite cereal is. Or where you store your undergarments.

No, he doesn't know any of that. He's seeing it all for the very first time.

With a wine glass in hand, you invite him to sit on the couch with you and continue your conversation about the lovely experience you had at the restaurant and how lovely the food and environment were.

It's obvious that there's a slight tension in the air when he sets his hand on your thigh. You're not quite sure why, but it feels a little fast.

You've only just met the man, gone on the first date just now. And given your history of relationships, you've had a pattern of rushing into the sex.

You don't want to give off the wrong impression about yourself and you actually like Lou. He's polite, thoughtful and didn't keep making sexual passes at you over dinner like the other guys.

It was actually really nice to finally be able to sit down and talk to someone who genuinely wanted to get to know you for who you are and not just your body.

There's still something that you can't quite explain that makes you uneasy about him, but the fact that you can't quite pinpoint it makes you believe that it might be just you projecting your fears onto him. It has been a while since you've dated; this was your first date in months.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and hope he won't pick up on your hesitance.

Louis knows something is making you uncomfortable. He doesn't know what. He knows he'll have to work harder and longer to gain your trust, to ensure that you feel completely safe with him before you can invite him into your bed. But that's ok, he doesn't mind the wait. He can be patient when he needs to.

When you come back to the small living room, he's stood adjusting his suit jacket.

"Are you leaving?"

"I hope you're not offended" he nods. "I just got a call from my employee. I have to go, but I was hoping we could maybe do this again sometime?"

"Yeah, a-alright. I'd love to" you nod masking your disappointment. You're almost sure you blew it. He's never going to actually come back.

"Thank you so much for tonight. I really enjoyed our talk and I look forward to getting to know you even better."

"So do I" you nod forcing a smile at him as you follow him to the door. "Stop by whenever. I'm home every day after 6."

As if he doesn't already know your schedule.

"Will do, sweetheart. I apologize again, but I promise I'll make for it. "

"There's no need. It's work."

"Yes, that's true. And I do love the service that I provide, but I think I've been begun to enjoy your company even more."

You smile surprised at him as you open the door. He leans down to mimic your very first act and presses his cheek against yours to kiss you goodbye.

You sigh as the door closes behind your back and shake your head. Part of you wishes you had caved in. Why shouldn't have you? You were flirting, he was into you. All the signs were there.

Regretfully taking your wine glass from the coffee table, you chug down its remaining content. There's a bitter taste to the wine. It just must've been out or opened for too long. It could be time to get a new bottle.

You take the glasses to the kitchen to give them rinse and set them on the drying. Then, you walk over to the closet to remove your dress and bra and change into your pajamas which consists of an oversized t-shirt and the cute lacy panties you’d picked out.

To be fair, Louis did actually have to work. Although the date had ended, his night was only getting started.

It’s only 2 a.m when he comes home from another adrenaline-filled night. Despite the rush of speeding from neighborhood to neighborhood, he isn’t all too tired. Not for you, at least.

Making his way to his window, he looks into your apartment to make sure you’re fast asleep. Content with the fact that you are, he takes his fun time kit and makes his way to your front door.

Quietly breaking into your apartment again, just as easy as before, he closes the door behind him and makes his way over to your bed. With his camcorder in hand, he stares down at you hungrily.

You're on your side with your back to him. Your shirt is just slightly hiked up from the position, revealing a bit of your stomach. You don’t even feel it when he traces his finger up your thigh and over the arch of your ass to test the effect of his dosage.

It’s the same amount as last time, so he’s confident you won’t wake up. But the issue is that he didn’t see you take the sedative this time. For all he knows, you could’ve tossed the wine out instead. It’s a risk he’ll willing to take as he palms the knife – his last resort – in his pocket.

Judging by the TV that’s still on, he believes you did take it. The more he's watched you over the past few days, the more he believes you were made for one another. You don't get out much. Friends aren't over all the time. It's mostly just you alone in your apartment doing chores or watching TV, and you never sleep with it on.

He smirks at the panties that perfectly accentuate your ass, making it look plump and rounder. They look so pretty on you; he doesn’t want to take them off even though he’s anxious to drill his cock into your pussy.

As he films, he slides his middle finger down the crack of your ass and slowly moves it towards your pussy. His eyes alter back and forth from your face to your ass. He wants to be sure you don’t wake up, but there’s no movement so far. Your breathing is just as steady as before.

Smirking to him with wide eyes, he quickly unbuckles his belt and pants and lets his cock spring from its confines. Feeling more confident than the last time, he sets the camera down on the bed in order to strip down and undress.

Once completely naked, he takes his camera in hand again and aims the focal point back to your ass. He lifts the fabric of your panties to tuck his dripping cock underneath it, pressing it against your cheeks. A faint quiet “fuck” escapes from his lips.

He toys with his cock, enjoying how your ass and the lace feels against his hardened shaft. You’re just so warm and begging to be fucked.

Propping one knee on the bed between your legs, he hooks your panties with his finger to lift them and glides his glistening tip down to your plush pussy folds and back to your ass. He could come from this alone, but he wants to enjoy it for as long as he can.

You might not even know, but your body reacts to the head of his dick massaging your clit. You don’t move, too unconscious to even notice, but he can feel your pussy slickening with every stroke between your lips.

Stilling his hips for a moment, the camera shifts upwards to catch him lifting your shirt up over your breast. With a smirk, he flips the screen of the camcorder and sets it down near the corner of your bed angling it to capture himself and you from the front.

Happy with his angle, he’s able to finally focus on only you. He slides your panties to the side and slowly pushes his cock into your wet hole. The pleasure is so good that he has to stop and lean his head back with eyes shut tightly to hold himself back.

Slowly pushing and pulling to wet his dick, he finally bottoms out with a low groan. The tightness of your walls has him struggling to contain himself.

He leans down as he cups your breast in his hand and latches his lips onto your hardened nipple. He sucks and flicks his tongue over it, kneading the flesh with his hand hoping the distraction is able to make him last longer.

Standing beside your bed, his hips begin their slow thrusts as he straightens up. He keeps a hand on your ass to keep your cheeks open for his cock. The other stays on your breast for the sheer satisfaction of how squishy it is.

“Fuck, angel. You feel so fucking heavenly” he whispers to himself. “Could fuck you forever.”

Watching where your bodies connect, he pants and watches your pussy swallowing his cock with such ease. His balls grazing against your thigh only heightens his ecstasy.

His hips quicken until they’re snapping against your ass cheeks. He quickly glances at the camera screen to make sure the angel is filming every inch.

Feeling his orgasm approaching, he squeezes your ass and hips as his eyes move up and down to watch your jiggling breast and your swollen pussy lips engulfing his dick. He hates that he can’t fucking cum inside you. You feel too good to pull out, but he does regardless and lets his ropes of white cum squirt in the crack of your ass instead.

It’s a win-win to him. He doesn’t cum inside you but he still gets to have your warm flesh milk him of every drop.

Stepping back to catch his breath, he holds your panties with one hand to film your ass painted white with his load. He zooms in as close as he can to capture his seed drip between your cheeks.

Stunned by the fact that you haven’t even budged, he sets the camera down. He carefully rolls you onto your front, lowers your panties to your ankles and parts your legs as wide as he can.

Taking the camera once more, he watches with wide eyes as his cum slowly trickles onto and between your pussy lips, making you look so juicy and creamy for him. He can’t help but set his camcorder aside and position himself on your bed to lower down and lick it up.

His tongue prods at your creamy cunt as his hands squeeze your ass, thumbs parting your sore lips open to lap at all the juices oozing from you. He circles your clit. His tongue licks at your folds over and over again to capture every drop of his salty load and sinks as far as it can into your pussy.

Moving upwards, he parts your cheeks to glide his tongue between them and licks up the mess, poking the puckered hole with his tongue. He can only imagine how good fucking your ass must feel. He doesn’t want to do that just yet, he wants you to be awake for it because he knows it could be painful. He’s not an animal, of course.

His cock does twitch and hardens at the thought of fucking your ass.

Spitting on your pussy, he rolls you back onto your side before lying down beside you. He takes the camera to film himself lying beside you, as if you’re a couple. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your conditioner. He smiles to himself as he kisses your neck and shoulder, admiring how cute you look together on the screen of the camcorder.

Positioning it on the bed, he aims the lenses of it up at your cunt and his cock for the perfect angle of his dick slipping back into you for another round.

Tonight, he plans to test his limit and see how much he can really get away with.

His cock slips past your pussy lips again and fucks you harder this time, letting his balls slap against your clit and add to the delicious vulgar sounds that fill the room.

Once his orgasm builds up again, he holds your thigh tightly and pulls his cock out to simply glide between your drenched lips, cumming on them.

His load slickens your thighs, so he holds them closed and fucks them slowly to ease himself down from his high, altering from your supple thighs and wet cunt.

He swears he could fuck you like this all night, and he just might.

#louis bloom #louis bloom x you #louis bloom x reader #louis bloom x y/n #lou bloom #lou bloom x you #lou bloom x reader #lou bloom x y/n #nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal smut

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