#and inspired by how much better it still could be

[rosenclaws]

XXX.Com || Pornstar Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: Logan needs money and work is hard to find when you're from another universe, luckily he lands himself a job as an adult film actor. Lets just say, he's a natural.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, porn (obvi lol), jerking off, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, scratching, oral f!receiving, rough sex, fake professor x college student (its the porno they're filming), he calls you teach in the porno, reader has a stage name (sunshine), flirting.

a/n: This was inspired by the delicious pornstar logan fics by @bpmiranda I wanted to try my own twist on the trope but plz go check out their fics they are amazing!!

Coming from another universe had its fair share of problems. For one his other self was a very well known hero so people were constantly staring. The other issue was working. He needed money if he ever wanted to move out of this god forsaken place. He’s sick of seeing wade walk around naked at 8 in the morning.

He needs his space and to get that he needs money but getting a job with none of the required paperwork was hard. He had to settle for doing odd jobs that paid cash under the table. Those were fine but he needed something more stable.

When Wade suggested he turn to adult films he rolled his eyes at another attempt at shitty humor from his roommate but the more he thought about it the less it seemed like a joke. The money was good and hopefully they didn't ask too many questions. So fuck it. How he found the right place was a long story but he ended up getting hired pretty quickly.

As the director put it. He's sexy and big in more ways than one. To Logan's surprise they didn't seem to care much that he was from another universe but they did have to make sure he wasn't a total creep which he understood.

The first video he was assigned to was pretty basic. Just fucking a girls brains out or something. Whatever the hell people were in to these days, he didn't really care. As long as he got paid. He had to get used to the prying eyes of the cameras.

Still he said his lines, albeit it took him a couple takes to say them naturally. His gruff voice and rippling muscles skyrocketed him to the top. Despite being a rookie he attracted a lot of attention and even garnered a reputation within the studio. No one could deny the raw animal magnetism this man seemed to have.

"Logan! Good news, your next video is going to be a with one of the most popular stars in our studio." The directors over the top enthusiasm makes Logan's eyes roll but he grunts out a response.

"Her name is Sunshine. Look her up. Anyways be here tomorrow by nine." Sunshine? Logan chuckles to himself as he leaves the studio.

Fake names are not uncommon but he's yet to find one that sounds so...perky. Still his curiosity gets the better of him as he steals Wades laptop in the dead of night. Searching in the name and scanning the results. Logan works with many attractive people in this job but the moment he lays eyes on you something shifts.

You aren't just attractive, you're drop dead gorgeous. He clicks on a video and his cock tightens in his pants. The faces you make don't look over the top or rehearsed. They almost look real. But Logan can tell you're faking it.

Your moans are sweet but he can tell whoever this boy is that's got his cock in you isn't doing his job very well. Still ever the professional you are you make it work. He falls down a rabbit hole of video after video. Shutting the laptop as the clock reads two in the morning. His cock is hard and painful as he puts Wades laptop back on the counter.

Fuck he needs a shower.

The ice cold water hits his back but it's not helping. He wraps his hand around his cock. Keeping his noises to a minimum as he jerks himself off to the thought of you. He bites his lip as he thinks of every way he can make you scream tomorrow. Show you what it's like to be fucked by a real man.

The sinful thoughts that fill his head drive him over the edge. He slams his hand against the shower wall as he comes. The water running down his back as he catches his breath. You've already got him interested, he just hopes he can put on a real show tomorrow.

-

When Logan gets to the studio the director tells him the "plot" of this video. Plot being a very loose term here. He's supposed to be the failing college senior while you play the hot young professor. They hand him a white button up a size too small and some fake glasses. He laughs as they place the glasses onto his face.

"No one's going to fucking buy this." The buttons threaten to bust open as they start to fix his hair.

"I don't know, you look pretty convincing to me." He looks up to see you smiling at him.

Already dressed in your shoot clothes with your makeup and hair all done. He shamelessly looks you up and down, licking his lips as his eyes settle on your cleavage.

"I'm a little old to be playing a college student don't you think?" You shrug and walk closer to him. You take your hands and run them through his hair, trying to flatten the parts that stick up but they don't want to listen.

"Don't think any one is watching these for the realism Logan." You wink as you then move to fix his glasses.

He clenches his jaw as he tries to contain the raging boner. He shouldn't be hard yet but here he is. You're driving him crazy.

"Promise to go easy on you, don't want to scare my new favorite coworker." You tease. Your nails scratch along his jaw, just for a moment but it's enough to drive him wild.

"I'm your favorite already Sunshine?" Logan says with a grin.

"For now, don't prove me wrong when the cameras are on us." You walk away and Logan enjoys every second of it. Oh this is going to be fun.

-

"Come on teach, your class is the only one I'm failing. I need to get a C to graduate." Logan's massive frame towers over your desk. His lines come out much more flirty than its supposed to but you roll with it.

"You need a lot of extra credit to make up the missing assignments Mr. Howlett." You stand up and walk over to where he was standing.

Pushing on his chest to get him to sit. You smirk when you see the buttons on his shirt fighting for their life. You sit on top of the desk and pretend to think.

"I'll do anything you want. Anything" Logan growls, his hand resting on your thigh now. Slowing inching up your leg, stopping right at the hem of your pencil skirt. You place your heel onto his shoulder. Spreading your legs so that Logan and the camera can see your lack of panties.

"Well, lets see how bad you want it." You taunt.

Your voice is smooth as butter and it drives him nuts. Logan gets on his knees. Ripping your skirt apart with ease making you gasp. That wasn't in the script but fuck it made you wet. His muscles are bulging in that damn shirt and you want to see what's underneath in person. Sadly that was going to have to wait as he trails kisses up your legs. Wet and sloppy as his grip on your hips is ironclad.

The camera moves to capture Logan's face. Seeing the primal hunger in his eyes as he grabs the hem of your panties with his teeth, dragging them down. He stands up with them still in his mouth. You grab onto his shirt and rip it open. Raking your nails down his very toned chest. You grab your underwear out of his mouth and toss it to the side.

"Good boy." You purr as you push on his shoulders.

He gets back onto his knees and wastes no time diving into your cunt. You fall back onto the desk as Logan takes you apart with his tongue. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips with ease. There is no need to fake your pleasure with him between your legs.

He's hungry, ravenous. Logan can't get enough. He holds your legs apart, keeping you from closing them as he zeros in on your clit. He's ruthless. Refusing to give you a moment to breathe as he loses himself in your pussy.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined." He growls off script. If he wasn't bringing you to orgasm you'd wonder what he meant by that. You wonder if he watched your videos just like you had.

"Logan!" You moan as your legs start to shake under the intense pleasure.

"That's it teach, let me taste you come on." His dirty mouth makes your head spin.

Your eyes squeezing tight as he pushes you over the edge. You barely even notice the camera as it positions itself over Logan's shoulder. Logan resist the urge to break the damn thing as it gets in his way. He feels a push on his shoulder and he growls. Reluctantly he gets out of the way and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

"I have an idea teach," Logan purrs. He pulls you off the desk. Wrapping an arm around you and grinding his clothed cock against your thigh.

"For every orgasm I can pull out of you, you raise my grade by a letter." He breathes into your neck, inhaling your scent. You sigh as his hands start to grope and squeeze your breasts.

"What do you say?" He grins as he feels you squirm under his touch. He unbuttons your blouse and tosses it to the side. Mouth watering as he buries his face in your breasts.

"You better get to work then Mr. Howlett. You're at a D right now." You turn around and bend over the desk. His hands run along your body before he unbuckles his pants.

"I'll show you a D." He grumbles. You have to stifle a laugh at his words.

The camera moves to show your face as Logan slides his cock inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure as he gets to feel your tight cunt. Now this is what he was waiting for.

"Come get a shot of this." He whispers to himself.

He drags his cock out slowly. He watches in awe as your cute pussy just sucks him up. Your hands are digging into the desk, clawing at the wood as Logan's massive cock pushes its way in. You knew he was big but to actually feel it in person. Fuck.

"That feel good? You like my big cock hm?" Logan's cocky tone makes you moan as he picks up his pace. He's pummeling your poor pussy with no mercy. Your moans are as real as they can get as you cry and whine with each thrust.

"Logan oh god!" Your eyes cross as his cock hits a sensitive spot.

No one's ever hit that before. You're falling apart. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath but your moans quiet down because of it. Logan doesn't like that one bit. You groan as you feel his hand grab your hair. He pulls you up so that your back is arched. His cock somehow pushing its way deeper.

"Come on baby, don't hide from me." He whispers in your ear. He wraps an arm around your chest to hold you up. Your nails dig into his arm to ground yourself.

"Feel so fucking good, jerked myself off last night to your videos." He mumbles so only you can hear. You don't understand how a man can have so much stamina. He doesn't even seem tired.

"So fucking close I can feel it baby. I can feel the way your cunt clenches around my fat cock. I can hear her pulsing for me." His eyes grow dark as he feels you start to lose it.

His rough fingers sliding down to play with your cunt. It's a filthy sight to watch. You've forgotten about the cameras and the crew. The only thing you can feel is Logan. He's taken over your mind, your senses.

"That's it pretty girl." He bites your shoulder and the pain mixes with pleasure.

"Fuck!" You wail as you come hard around his cock. Logan groans in pleasure and comes before he can really stop himself. Filling you up nice and full as you babble incoherently. You can barely get your lines out as you float between the real world and cloud nine.

"You got your C Mr. Howlett." You've never been this wrecked after a scene before but Logan has completely ruined you. You grin at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you.

"You know, I've always wanted an A." He's grinning like the devil as he thrusts his hips once more making you cry out.

He's still fucking hard. He really is every porn studios wet dream. Hot, sexy, can go for round after round. The director calls cut but Logan doesn't let go of you. You've got this dazed look in your eyes and he gently lays you down on the desk.

"You alright?" He grunts as he slips out of you. His cock still standing straight as someone brings him a robe. He grabs a towel from one of the PA's and gently wipes up your legs. You whine as the rough material brushes against your poor pussy.

"Sorry." You just smile in response. You haven't had a fuck this good in a long time. A crew member brings you a robe and you put it on.

"You really know how to use that thing. For a second I thought you were the seasoned professional." You joke as you try and get off the desk. You stumble and Logan is quick to catch you.

"What can I say Sunshine, you made it easy." He flirts. The director calls his name and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't keep him waiting Logan. I'll see you soon." Another crew member comes to help you as Logan lets you go.

Thankfully this was all you had for the week and you could go home and soak in a bath. Your poor legs are going to need it. After signing a few things and getting next weeks shoot list you can finally go home.

"Sunshine, hope I didn't fuck you too good." Logan says with a wink. He's waiting outside of the studio, a cigar in his mouth.

"I regret whatever I said before, your ego is going to get too big." You joke. He shrugs and puts out his cigar on the ground.

"You got any plans?" He asks. Your dressed in normal clothes now, nothing remotely revealing but Logan still thinks you look gorgeous.

"I could take you to lunch, if you're interested." He offers.

You haven't thought about dating since you started working in this industry. You didn't need a partner and it could be hard trying to find one who understood your job. But Logan flashes that handsome smile and for some reason you can't resist.

Maybe your working backwards here. He fucks you and then you go to lunch but hey, nothing about him is conventional anyways.

"Yeah, lunch sounds good."

Its just lunch, you tell yourself. It's only a meal with your hot coworker. If things were to go further though you wouldn't complain. Certainly not when he's as handsome as he is. You definitely wouldn't mind taking him back to your place and you're certainly okay when he promises he can go for more rounds away from the prying eyes of the camera. But for now it's just lunch. He pays and you give him your number.

Logan and you part ways and he prays he sees you again. Not just at work but outside of it too. You've got him hooked. The video gets uploaded and explodes in popularity. Praising how realistic it felt and how hot both of you were. He gets a call from the director, expecting another update on his next shoot.

"Great news man! Sunshine wants to do exclusive shoots with you. Oh this is going to make us so much money." He tunes out the rambling as his phone dings. A smirk appearing on his face when he sees a text with your name pop up.

Want to rehearse our next scene? my place 7pm <3

[reidmarieprentiss]

Say Don't Go

Summary: You are given the opportunity of a lifetime, Spencer urges you to take it. Even if it means leaving him behind.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, typical BAU crime, mentions of drugging/kidnapping/robbery, brief alcohol consumption by reader and friends, clubs, break up(?), talks of marriage, forced choices/decisions, happy ending !

Word count: 15k

a/n: so what if this pulls inspiration from the train scene in glee... SO WHAT ... and so what if i named a character after kurt

main masterlist

December 2008 – Present

"You’ve been with so many women you don’t remember their names?" Spencer asked, laughing at Derek.

"Are you surprised?" Emily snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"This has never happened to me before," Derek defended, sounding genuinely incredulous.

"It’s never happened to me before either," Spencer chimed in, grinning as he started toward the conference room.

"It can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory," Emily teased, her smirk unmistakable.

"Plus, you only have one name to remember," Derek added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ha ha," Spencer replied, forcing a laugh, though the words cut deeper than he let on. Derek wasn’t wrong.  

He only had one name to remember. One that mattered above all the others.  

But Spencer had messed it up. He had let you get on that train. He had let you walk away.

Spencer's regrets weren't always loud or obvious; they often whispered to him in the quiet moments of his everyday life, weaving their way into his thoughts like unwelcome visitors he couldn’t shake.

It was in the mornings, when he brewed a pot of coffee in his lonely apartment, and his hand hovered over the second mug he used to pour for you. He’d catch himself mid-motion, the pang of realization that you weren’t there cutting through him like a knife. He’d take his coffee black, staring at the empty chair across from him, and wonder if you were having your morning cup too—if you still took it with two sugars and a splash of cream.

At work, it was the little things that brought you to mind. A joke Derek would make, or the way Emily tilted her head while teasing him, reminded Spencer of how you used to laugh with him, soft and genuine. He could still hear your voice in the back of his mind, offering your take on a case or pointing out something he’d missed. Those moments were the hardest—because they reminded him of how much better everything had been when you were there to share it with him.

And then there were the books. Spencer couldn’t walk into his favorite bookstore without being overwhelmed by the memory of browsing the aisles with you, debating over which novel to pick for your next "couples read." Now, those shelves felt empty, even when they were fully stocked. He’d run his fingers over the spines, pausing at titles he knew you would’ve loved, but he never brought himself to buy them. What was the point if you weren’t there to read them with him?

Evenings were the worst. After a long day at the BAU, when he returned to his dim apartment, the silence was deafening. He’d sit at his desk, pulling out old case files to distract himself, but his eyes would always drift to the small keepsake box he kept on the shelf. Inside were the remnants of your time together—a movie ticket stub, a pressed flower from a date, a Polaroid of you laughing at something he’d said. He’d told himself he’d put it away to move on, but instead, it became a shrine to his mistakes, one he visited more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there were the nights when the ache became unbearable, when he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of you boarding that train. He could still hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks, still see the tear-streaked expression on your face when you looked at him through the window. Those nights, he’d wonder what he’d say to you if he had another chance—what he’d do differently if he could go back. 

The regret wasn’t just a feeling; it was a constant presence in his life. It was the realization that, in trying to give you what he thought you needed, he’d taken away the one thing he needed most: you.

—

June 2008

“Spencer?” you asked cautiously, looking over at your boyfriend as his car came to a stop in front of the train station.  

You could see him take a deep, trembling breath, the shakiness audible even as he tried to steady himself.  

When he turned to face you, his eyes were already brimming with tears, spilling over before he could even speak.  

“You said we were going to dinner,” you reminded him, your throat tightening as dread began to settle in your chest. You were trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, clinging to the hope that you were wrong.  

Spencer cleared his throat, but it didn’t stop his voice from breaking as he said, “No.” He shook his head, and the weight of his next words seemed to crush him as he continued, “You’re going to New York.”  

“What?” Your voice shot up as you stared at him in disbelief, as if he had grown another head. “What do you mean? I turned Aubrey down.”  

“I know,” Spencer sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I can’t let you throw your dreams away for me.”  

“My dreams?” you repeated, your voice rising in anger and heartbreak. “Spencer, you are my dream. I love you!”  

“I love you too,” he choked out through his tears, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”  

“But—” you tried, your hands reaching for his as if grounding him could change his mind.  

“No, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, though the pain in it was unmistakable. “I—I called Aubrey. She still wants you. I told her you accepted the position. That you’re coming.”  

“Why?” you cried, the single word breaking into a sob. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, desperate for an answer that would make this make sense.  

Spencer’s lips quivered, and he looked away, unable to face the devastation in your eyes. "Because you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lump in his throat.  

"But I already have everything I want!" you shouted, your hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you. "You’re all I need, Spencer. You’re it for me!"  

He let out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now as his hands reached up to cover yours. For a moment, you thought he might give in, that he might change his mind. But then he shook his head again, his expression resolute despite the anguish etched into every line of his face.  

"You’ll resent me one day," he said, his voice cracking. "You’ll look back and wonder what you could’ve done, what you could’ve been if you hadn’t stayed for me. I can’t live with that. I can’t live knowing I held you back."  

"That’s not fair!" you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of your sobs. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! I chose you, Spencer. I chose us!"  

"I know," he whispered, his hands tightening over yours as if trying to memorize the feeling. "And that’s why I have to do this. Because I love you too much to let you give up your future for me."  

"My future is with you!" you insisted, but he was already pulling your hands away from his face, gently but firmly.  

"I called Aubrey," he repeated, his voice hollow. "She’ll be waiting for you at the station in New York. Your ticket is already bought. Your bags… they’re in the trunk."  

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You… you packed my things?"  

Spencer nodded, his expression breaking entirely under the weight of your hurt. "I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t."  

"You had no right!" you shouted, shoving at his chest. "No right, Spencer!"  

He took it, letting you pound against him until your strength gave out, until your sobs consumed you, leaving you trembling and broken in his arms. "I’m sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips to your hair. "I’m so sorry."  

But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop you from going.  

As the train whistle sounded in the distance, Spencer gently pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "You have to go," he said softly, his voice thick with tears. "The train won’t wait."  

"I hate you," you whispered, the words cutting him deeper than anything else ever could.  

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible as he let his hands drop to his lap. "But one day… I hope you’ll understand."  

He opened the car door for you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at him with tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with the weight of everything unsaid.  

Finally, you whispered, "Goodbye, Spencer," your voice trembling as you stepped out of the car.  

He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything as he watched you walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to his heart.  

And when the train finally began to pull out of the station, Spencer felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The reality of what he’d done crashed into him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were moving, carrying him toward the train. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky and panicked. "What have I done?"  

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran alongside the train, desperate, tears streaming down his face. He called your name, his voice breaking, though he wasn’t sure if you could even hear him through the thick glass and the noise of the train.  

Inside the train car, you were curled into the seat, staring blankly out the window, your face streaked with tears. You weren’t expecting to see him. But then, there he was—running alongside the train, his expression frantic, his lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear.  

Your heart shattered all over again. The sight of him, so desperate, so raw, made it even harder to leave. Your hand instinctively pressed against the cold glass, a futile attempt to reach for him.  

Spencer’s legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, the distance between him and the train growing with every passing second. His vision blurred from the tears, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.  

But you… you couldn’t bear to watch. Your tears fell harder as you pulled your hand away from the window and turned your head, unable to keep looking at him. You had to look away, even though it felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.  

Spencer stumbled, slowing as the train picked up speed, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air, watching helplessly as the train—and you—disappeared into the horizon.  

He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. "What have I done?" he whispered to no one, the words echoing into the empty night.  

You were gone. And Spencer knew, deep down, that he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.  

—

September 2008

You loved your new life. How could you not? You had everything you had once dreamed of—your new position as second in command to the CEO of your favorite designer brand was everything you’d worked so hard for. The thrill of overseeing campaigns, approving designs, and brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry was exhilarating.  

You’d settled into your new routine as well as anyone could when starting fresh in a bustling city like New York. Moving in with Aubrey Wilkes, the CEO herself, was daunting at first, but she made it easier. Her mentorship was invaluable, and her sharp wit and genuine kindness turned her into a friend as much as a boss.  

Your days were filled with meetings in glass-walled boardrooms, late nights spent poring over designs and strategies, and the occasional glamorous event that kept your calendar full. You had the life you always said you wanted.  

And yet...  

Every single day, Spencer found his way into your thoughts.  

It wasn’t always obvious at first. Maybe it was a book you saw in a shop window that reminded you of one of his recommendations, or a classical piece playing softly in a café that you knew he loved. Sometimes it was the sound of someone’s laugh that carried the same rhythm as his, or the sight of a man at the train station holding a bouquet of daisies like the ones he used to bring you.  

Other times, it was the silence that brought him back. At the end of a long day, when you’d kick off your heels and collapse onto your couch, you’d find yourself wishing you could tell him about your wins and your struggles. You’d wonder how he’d react to the stories you had to tell, imagining his soft smile or the way his hands would flutter nervously when he was excited for you.  

There were nights when it hit harder—when the city lights felt too bright and the penthouse apartment too cold. On those nights, you’d curl up in bed and stare out at the skyline, wondering if Spencer ever thought about you, too. If he regretted what he’d done. If he missed you as much as you missed him.

Because no matter how perfect your new life seemed on paper, a part of you still felt like it was missing. And that part had a name. Spencer Reid.

—

February 2007

It was a crisp evening as the warm glow of the restaurant's candles reflected off the polished surfaces, casting a cozy light over the two of you. Spencer had chosen this place because it was where you first met, a sentimental touch to the holiday of love that made your heart swell. The quiet buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a soothing backdrop as you both enjoyed your meal, the comfort of each other's presence making the night feel perfect.

You were mid-laugh at something Spencer had said when a woman approached your table, her eyes wide with admiration. "I’m so sorry to bother you," she began, her voice apologetic but earnest. "But that is the most fabulous dress I have ever seen. Can I ask where you got it?"  

Caught off guard, you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced down at the material that clung to your body in all the right places. You smoothed your hand over the fabric, feeling both flattered and shy under the woman’s praise.  

Spencer, noticing your blush, smirked proudly from across the table. His hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that he was there, always your biggest supporter.  

"I–um," you stammered, your voice soft as you tried to find the words. "I made it."  

The woman’s face lit up with genuine astonishment. "You made it?" she repeated, her tone filled with awe. "That’s incredible. You have such talent."  

Spencer’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin as he interjected, his voice laced with pride. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? I keep telling her she could make a career out of this, but she’s too modest to listen."  

"Spencer," you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes at him as your blush deepened.  

The woman smiled warmly at the exchange, clearly charmed by the both of you. "Well, if you ever decide to give your talents to the world, give me a call." With a quick admiring glance at your dress one last time, she handed you a business card before turning to rejoin her party, leaving you and Spencer alone once again.  

You stared at the card in your hand, the golden lettering catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s lights. Your heart nearly stopped as you read the name printed at the top—Aubrey Wilkes.  

Your favorite designer.  

The logo you’d admired countless times on magazine covers and in shop windows felt surreal in your grasp. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of the opportunity this might represent sinking in.  

Spencer noticed the stunned look on your face and tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone soft yet concerned.  

You slowly turned the card toward him, your hand trembling slightly. "It’s… her," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer leaned closer, his eyes scanning the card before widening in recognition. His lips curled into a delighted smile, the kind that lit up his whole face. "Aubrey Wilkes?" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "Y/N, do you know what this means?"  

"I…" you began, but words failed you. It felt too big, too unexpected to process.  

"It means you’re amazing," Spencer continued, his voice steady as he reached across the table to take your free hand. "And now someone else sees it too."  

You looked back at Spencer, who was still holding your hand, his thumb now tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "I told you people would notice," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "You’re incredible, and you should let the world see it."  

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Spencer," you whispered.  

"Always," he replied, his expression filled with a quiet devotion that made your heart flutter.  

The moment lingered between you, the restaurant and its patrons fading into the background as the two of you shared a look that said more than words ever could.

—

April 2007

"Spencer, I’m not going," you sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your chest as you leaned back in your chair. His persistence, while well-meaning, was starting to wear on you.  

"Y/N," he began, his tone both patient and pleading, "this isn’t just some casual opportunity. This is Aubrey Wilkes. She gave you her card. She wants to see what you can do. Do you even know how rare that is?"  

You folded your arms across your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know exactly how rare it is, Spencer. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to New York."  

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if physically holding himself back from pressing harder. "Why not?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with frustration but also genuine concern. "Is it fear? Because I know you, Y/N. You can do this. You’re more than talented enough."  

"It’s not fear," you shot back, though your voice faltered just enough for him to notice. You stared at the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair. "It’s… it’s everything else. I have a life here. I have a job. I have you."  

Spencer’s heart clenched at your words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. "I know, and I love our life together," he said earnestly. "But I don’t want you to look back in ten years and wonder ‘what if.’ I don’t want you to resent me for holding you back from something you were meant to do."  

You flinched at his words, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. "You think I’d ever resent you? Spencer, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re the one who’s always supported me, encouraged me to believe in myself when no one else did."  

"And I’m still doing that," he countered gently. "That’s why I’m pushing this. I can’t stand the thought of you letting this slip away because you’re scared to leave me behind."  

"It’s not just that," you admitted, your voice breaking as tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t want to lose us. What if I go, and everything falls apart?"  

Spencer reached for your hands, cradling them between his. His thumbs traced soothing circles over your knuckles as he looked at you with all the tenderness in the world. "You won’t lose me, Y/N," he promised, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "I’ll be here, cheering you on, no matter where you are. I’d rather see you chasing your dreams, even if it’s from a distance, than staying here and giving up on them for me."  

Your tears spilled over, and you shook your head, torn between love for him and the fear of what leaving might mean. "I just don’t know, Spencer," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

"I do," he said softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I know how much you’re capable of, and I know you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. And I love you too much to let that happen."  

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling between you like an immovable wall. You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill again. “I’m just—I’m not going. Leave it alone,” you said firmly, your voice quieter than you intended but laced with finality.  

Spencer hesitated, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for you might close the growing distance between you. “Y/N,” he murmured softly, his tone a mix of frustration and desperation.  

“Can we be done with this, please?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but resolute. You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to feel like you were fighting with the one person who always understood you.  

Spencer stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue further. But then he closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

The word hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions—disappointment, worry, and love all tangled together. Spencer looked down at the table, fiddling with his napkin as if it held answers he couldn’t find in your eyes.  

You turned your gaze away, your chest tightening as silence settled over the room. It wasn’t the kind of silence that came with comfort—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with everything neither of you was saying.  

And though you had put an end to the conversation, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a crack in something you weren’t sure how to fix.  

—

August 2007

"Who was that?" Spencer asked as you walked back inside from the patio, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. He had noticed the look on your face as you ended the call—something between apprehension and surprise.  

You glanced down at your phone, the screen still lit with the call log. "Aubrey," you said hesitantly, tucking the device into your pocket.  

Spencer tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Aubrey Wilkes?"  

"Yeah," you admitted, your tone cautious as you avoided his gaze. "She… uh, she got my number. I don’t know how, but she did." You let out a nervous laugh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.  

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of intrigue and concern. "And?" he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.  

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She asked me to consider coming. Said there’s a spot opening next year—her number two is supposed to leave for another job in Milan."  

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his eyes searching your face as he processed the news. "That’s… huge," he said slowly, his voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.  

"I know," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s… it’s everything I dreamed about. She said she’d hold the spot for me if I wanted it."  

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze softening as he tried to read the emotions flickering across your face. "What did you say?"  

"I didn’t say anything," you admitted, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I told her I needed time to think about it."  

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a moment to respond. "And… are you thinking about it?"  

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to the floor. "I don’t know," you said quietly. "I told you I wasn’t going. But now… it’s like she’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me, and I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore."  

Spencer’s heart ached at your words, but he forced a gentle smile as he said, “You shouldn’t ignore it.”  

You sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a storm cloud. "It’s just too much to think about right now," you murmured, walking over to where he sat. Without hesitation, you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped protectively around you. The warmth of his embrace was like a balm, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.  

"Will you read to me?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.  

“Of course, my love,” he replied without hesitation, his tone tender. He reached for the book he had been reading earlier, adjusting slightly so you could be more comfortable.  

As his calm, steady voice filled the room, weaving through the story’s narrative, you felt your nerves begin to settle. The cadence of his words acted like a lullaby, each one wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Spencer kept reading, even when he noticed your body growing heavier against his, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.  

He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. You were wearing a sweater you had designed and crafted yourself, the intricate stitching a testament to your talent and creativity. In your peaceful state, with your lips slightly parted and your lashes resting against your cheeks, you looked serene.  

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched you, a flood of emotions washing over him. He felt an overwhelming admiration for you—for your strength, your brilliance, your passion. But beneath that admiration was a deep-seated fear.  

He didn’t want you to give up this massive opportunity, the one you had dreamed of for so long, the one that could change your life. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt that maybe he was the reason you were hesitating.  

The thought that he might be holding you back, even unintentionally, was almost unbearable. He wanted to be the one who supported you, who cheered you on, who encouraged you to take risks and chase your dreams. But as he held you in his arms, he wondered if his love for you was making it harder for you to leave.  

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet room, “I just want you to be happy.”  

He knew that when the time came, he would have to push you, no matter how much it hurt. Because loving you meant wanting the best for you—even if it meant letting you go.  

—

March 2008

You and Spencer were strolling through the mall, casually browsing the stores as you searched for the perfect gift for your grandmother’s upcoming birthday. The two of you laughed together as you passed by store windows, debating what she might like—a scarf, a brooch, maybe a fancy tea set.  

But then your steps slowed, your attention caught by something glinting behind a clear glass case. It was almost subconscious, your feet carrying you toward it before you even realized what had drawn you in.  

"Rings?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and amused as he came to stand beside you. His eyes flicked to the sparkling display before landing on your face, a tender smile curling on his lips.  

"Do you ever think about getting married?" you asked suddenly, your gaze still fixed on the rings, their polished surfaces reflecting the light.  

The question caught Spencer off guard. He blinked, his smile faltering for just a second before it returned, gentler this time. "Of course," he said softly, the vulnerability in his tone unmistakable. "Do… do you?"  

You finally tore your eyes away from the display, turning to face him with a grin. Your heart swelled at the look on his face—so earnest, so full of quiet hope.  

"Yes," you admitted, your smile widening as you decided to tease him just a little. "Preferably to a tall, nerdy doctor. But, you know, beggars can’t be choosers."  

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his lips pulling into a bashful smile as he looked down at you. "I think you might be in luck," he said, his voice laced with warmth and a hint of playful humor.  

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head and feigning surprise.  

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes glimmering with affection. "I hear there’s one who’s absolutely crazy about you."  

Your laughter bubbled up, filling the air between you as you leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both stood there, the sparkling rings forgotten as you focused entirely on each other.  

In that moment, with his arm around you and the warmth of his love so evident, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where one of those rings might be yours—and that future felt a lot closer than you’d ever thought possible.  

—

May 2008  

“Aubrey,” you sighed into the phone, keeping your voice low as you closed the bedroom door behind you. Spencer had finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, his fever making rest nearly impossible. The last thing you wanted was to wake him now. “I told you I can’t.”  

Unbeknownst to you, the sound of the door clicking shut had stirred Spencer. His eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over him as he realized you weren’t lying beside him anymore. He sat up slightly, his head still heavy with fatigue, and strained to hear your voice coming from somewhere outside the room.  

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the moment he heard Aubrey’s name fall from your lips, his chest tightened, and his focus sharpened.  

“No… no… it’s not that…” Your voice wavered, and Spencer could picture you chewing your thumb nervously—something you always did when you were stressed. “I can’t leave. My whole life is in Virginia… well, no… he told me to go… yes, I know—”  

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at your words.  

“I love him, I love my life with him,” you continued, and Spencer felt his chest ache in equal parts relief and guilt. “Obviously… I’m sure it would work, but—” You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and longing. “My answer is still no. I’m sorry.”  

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed what he’d just heard. He could feel the weight of your words pressing against his chest, a reminder of the sacrifice you were making. He knew he was the reason you were staying. You were giving up your dream for him, and as much as he loved you for it, he couldn’t let it happen.  

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Spencer quickly laid back down, shutting his eyes tight like a child pretending to sleep past their bedtime. He tried to even out his breathing, though his heart raced beneath the covers.  

You slipped back into the bedroom quietly, the dim light from the hallway casting a soft glow as you moved toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest. Your lips pressed a tender kiss over his heart, and you whispered, “I love you so much, Spencer Reid.”  

Spencer’s chest swelled at your words, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he fought back the wave of emotions threatening to overcome him.  

As your breathing steadied and you drifted off to sleep, Spencer lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the echo of your words—“I love him… he told me to go.”  

By the time sleep finally claimed him, his mind was filled with plans. He had to get you to New York. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it scared him, he had to make sure you followed your dreams—even if it meant losing you in the process.  

—

December 2008 – Present

"Reid, are you paying attention?" Hotch’s firm yet concerned tone cut through the fog in Spencer’s mind, snapping him out of his reverie.  

Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting Hotch’s piercing gaze. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, his voice steady though his heart wasn’t.  

"Good. Let’s keep it that way," Hotch grumbled, clearly not in the mood for distractions.  

The team was seated around the conference table in the BAU’s jet, discussing the details of their latest case. They were headed to New York, where several women had been drugged and abducted from exclusive nightclubs in the Upper East Side. The unsub’s profile was slowly taking shape, but for Spencer, focusing on the details was harder than usual.  

Even hearing the name New York was like a dagger twisting in his side. It brought with it a flood of memories he had tried and failed to suppress—memories of you.  

He could picture the night you had finally told Aubrey no, the way your voice trembled with conviction when you said you were staying in Virginia. And yet, here he was, sitting on a jet bound for the very city where you were supposed to be building your dream.  

Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. This is my job. Focus on the case. He repeated the mantra in his mind, forcing himself to look at the crime scene photos spread across the table.  

But as the jet began its descent into the city, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the window. The glittering skyline of New York City came into view, and his chest tightened. He wondered, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like now. Would you be walking those streets right now, thriving in a world that had always been meant for you?  

"Reid, thoughts?" JJ’s voice broke through his spiral, and Spencer quickly blinked, realizing the team was looking at him expectantly.  

"Uh…" He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "The unsub likely uses a combination of charm and familiarity to gain the victims’ trust. Based on the timeline, he’s calculated and methodical, which suggests he’s not working impulsively. He might be using the same clubs regularly to scope out his targets."  

JJ nodded, taking notes as Morgan chimed in with his own observations. Hotch seemed satisfied that Spencer was back on track, but Spencer could still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.  

As the jet landed and the team prepared to disembark, Spencer grabbed his bag and fell into step behind the others. He reminded himself that the job came first, that the women out there needed them to be focused and sharp.  

But as they exited the airport and the cold New York air hit his face, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the ghost of what could have been following close behind.  

As the team settled into the precinct, the familiar buzz of activity filled the air—phones ringing, officers shuffling papers, and the hum of conversation about the case. Spencer sat at a desk, his eyes scanning over a map as he worked on the geographical profile. On the surface, he looked focused, but internally, he was at war with himself.  

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The sharp lines on the map blurred as his thoughts drifted.  

Which building do you live in? The question looped through his mind like a broken record. He knew you had moved to the Upper East Side with Aubrey when you first came to New York. But that had been months ago—almost a year, actually. Maybe you didn’t live with her anymore. Maybe you had your own place now.  

And then, more troubling thoughts crept in. Are you being safe? His chest tightened at the idea of you walking these streets, the same streets where women were being drugged and taken.  

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the photos of the nightclubs spread across the desk. He knew it was unlikely you frequented places like these. You’d never been one for the nightlife, always shying away from loud music and crowded spaces. He remembered how you used to fidget at gatherings, instinctively seeking out quieter corners where you could breathe.  

But the thought of you even being near these places, of someone seeing you, targeting you—it made his stomach churn.  

God, I hope you’re safe, Spencer thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.  

“Reid, you okay?” Morgan’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.  

Spencer blinked, his hands tightening around the edges of the map. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calmer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to piece together the unsub’s movements.”  

Morgan studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. “Alright, well, let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”  

Spencer nodded, returning his gaze to the map. But even as he tried to refocus, his mind kept drifting back to you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t even been able to convince himself to reach out.  

And yet, here he was, in your city, wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, if you were thinking about him too.  

After spending the day checking out the crime scenes and canvasing the surrounding areas, the team returned to the precinct to deliver their initial profile to the local police. Spencer sat near the back of the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to keep his focus on the case.  

Emily stood at the front, presenting the profile with her usual confidence. "We believe the unsub is targeting wealthy women," she explained, her tone even but firm. "Women who appear successful and independent—CEO’s, CFO’s, designers, singers, dancers, actors, chefs, etcetera. He sees them as trophies, not just victims. He uses their wealth and status to justify robbing them, taking their IDs, and eventually breaking into their homes after he’s done with them. This is about control and power, and his choice of victims reflects that."  

Spencer’s stomach churned as he listened, each word cutting deeper into his already frayed nerves. His mind was no longer on the women they were profiling; it was back on you.  

Every victim they described could have been you. Successful, talented, determined—everything about you fit the profile. You had climbed to the top of your field, a name that carried weight and admiration. You were exactly the kind of woman this unsub sought to dominate, to tear down.  

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the board where photos of the victims were pinned. Each face reminded him of you in some way—the confident smiles, the elegant postures, the undeniable strength that radiated from their pictures.  

He tried to push the thoughts away, to remind himself that you were likely far from this mess, probably tucked away in a luxurious apartment or a designer studio, far removed from the chaos he was immersed in.  

But the fear gnawed at him anyway. What if you weren’t safe? What if you were walking these streets late at night, lost in thought or distracted, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby?  

Morgan’s voice pulled him back to the moment, but Spencer barely registered what was being said. He felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of his thoughts and the eerie similarities between you and the women they were trying to protect.  

The briefing ended, and the room began to clear out, officers heading back to their tasks. Spencer stayed seated, staring blankly at the photos on the board. His chest felt tight, his mind racing with all the possibilities he didn’t want to consider.  

"Reid?" JJ’s voice broke through the haze, her expression soft as she approached him. "What’s up with you? Is something wrong?”

He blinked, forcing himself to shake his head. "No," he lied, his voice flat. "Everything is fine."  

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close. Every instinct in him screamed to find you, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that this case wasn’t just about catching an unsub—it was about protecting you from a danger he couldn’t control.  

—

You were getting ready with Aubrey and the rest of your group, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement. It was Blake’s 27th birthday, and they had chosen to celebrate with a night out at the clubs.  

The leopard-print dress you wore hugged your frame perfectly, its bold design a gift from Aubrey herself. As you zipped up your deep burgundy leather boots, the rich color catching the light, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. The outfit was striking—you felt sexy and confident.  

“Shots!” Kurt’s voice boomed from the living room, drawing laughter and cheers from the group. You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you finished adjusting your boots.  

“You ready to go, superstar?” Aubrey teased, leaning in the doorway with a knowing smile. She looked impeccable, as always, her outfit radiating confidence and style.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a grin, standing and smoothing out your dress.  

“Good,” Aubrey said, linking her arm with yours. “Because tonight, we’re leaving all the stress and work drama behind. It’s Blake’s night, and you, my dear, are going to have fun.”  

You laughed, letting her guide you toward the rest of the group. As the music played loudly in the background and someone handed you a shot glass, you tried to push away the unease creeping in. This wasn’t your scene, but for Blake—and with your friends by your side—you’d make the best of it.  

What’s the harm of one night out on the town?

Aubrey, with her effortless charm and impressive connections, had managed to get your group into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. As you approached the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement as you passed the long line of people waiting to get in.  

The bouncer gave your group a once-over before glancing at his clipboard, where your names were already on the list. He nodded to the hostess, who gestured for you to follow her inside. You exchanged amused glances with Aubrey, her confident smirk making it clear she was in her element.  

The energy of the club hit you immediately—a pulsing rhythm of music, vibrant lights reflecting off chandeliers and mirrored disco balls, and the faint scent of expensive perfume mingling with the coolness of the air-conditioned space.  

You were quickly led to a private VIP lounge area, tucked away yet with a perfect view of the dance floor. The sleek leather seating, soft glow of ambient lighting, and low table with a bottle of premium alcohol chilling on ice made it clear this was luxury at its finest.  

As you settled in with the group, Aubrey leaned over with a grin. "Not bad, huh?"  

"Not bad at all," you admitted, finally starting to feel the buzz of excitement that the rest of the group had radiated all night.  

Kurt popped the cork on the bottle with a celebratory cheer, pouring out drinks as Blake laughed and raised their glass. "To the best birthday ever!" Blake called out, their joy infectious as everyone clinked their glasses together.  

You took a sip, letting the fizzy warmth spread through you, and glanced out at the dance floor, watching the kaleidoscope of lights play over the crowd. For the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax, leaning into the moment. Tonight wasn’t about anything else—it was about celebrating Blake, being with friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding some joy in the chaos.  

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as the excitement of the night wore on, that you noticed something was wrong. Analise hadn’t returned from the bathroom in a very long time. At first, you didn’t think much of it—maybe she’d gotten caught up chatting with someone or had taken a phone call. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle in.  

You mentioned it to Aubrey, and soon, the rest of your group was involved, searching the crowded club for her. You checked every possible place she could be—the bathroom, the dance floor, the bar. You even tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.  

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as you decided to check with door security. Maybe she’d decided to leave early and hadn’t told anyone. But when you explained the situation, the response you got made your heart drop.  

“She left about 40 minutes ago,” the bouncer informed you, his tone matter-of-fact. “She was with a man.”  

Your blood ran cold. Analise was a married lesbian woman with children. There was no way she would leave with a man.  

“That’s impossible,” you said, your voice shaking. “She wouldn’t… she would never do that.”  

The bouncer frowned, his expression darkening as he realized the weight of your words. Aubrey, ever composed, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “We need to check the security footage. Now.”  

The staff moved quickly, pulling up the tapes as your group crowded around, watching with bated breath. And there it was—clear as day. Analise stumbling out of the bathroom, visibly dazed, as a man wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the exit. You could see her trying to resist, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but she was no match for him.  

Your stomach churned as the man led her out of the club. It was clear she’d been drugged and coerced.  

“We’re calling the police,” one of the security staff said, already reaching for his radio.  

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. The authorities arrived swiftly, questioning the staff and reviewing the footage. Your group, shaken and worried sick, was told to wait outside. When the police finally addressed you, it was to inform you that they needed to take statements from everyone who had been with Analise that night.  

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a police car, the flashing lights reflecting off the club’s exterior as it faded into the distance. Aubrey sat beside you, her normally composed demeanor fractured by worry. The rest of your group was being transported in other cars, but you all shared the same fear: What if it’s too late?  

As the car sped toward the station, you stared out the window, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Analise’s face, her laugh, her stories about her wife and kids—it all played in your mind like a reel you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was your fault, that somehow you should have noticed sooner, should have done something.  

Aubrey reached over, squeezing your hand tightly. “We’ll find her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.  

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. All you could do now was hope the authorities could act quickly enough. Analise’s life could depend on it.  

Your group was led into a quiet room, far from the noise and chaos of the precinct. The space felt sterile and impersonal, and the tension in the air was palpable as you waited, all of you exchanging worried glances. One by one, your friends were called out by law enforcement to give their accounts of the night’s events.  

You tried to steady your breathing, but your heart sank when one of the officers mentioned that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was on the case. The BAU, you thought, your stomach twisting into knots. That could only mean one thing—Spencer.  

Your mind raced. Please, let him be out in the field. Let him be anywhere but here, you silently begged. The idea of seeing him again, especially under these circumstances, felt overwhelming.  

But then a petite, pretty blonde woman entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to your spiraling nerves. She scanned the list in her hands before looking up and saying your name with a polite smile.  

You hesitated but stood up, smoothing your dress as you followed her down the hallway. She led you to a small interrogation room, where the walls seemed to close in just a little too tightly.  

“Have a seat,” the woman said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. She handed you a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.  

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, clutching the cup between your hands as if it were a lifeline.  

The woman gave you a reassuring smile, her blue eyes warm and steady. “My name is Jennifer Jareau,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “I’m an agent with the BAU, and I just have a few questions for you. You’re not in any trouble; we’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened tonight.”  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her posture open and non-threatening. “I know tonight was difficult, but anything you can tell us might help us find your friend and bring her home safely.”  

You took a deep breath, letting her words settle over you. As much as you were afraid of what this moment represented, you knew you had to focus on Analise. You began recounting the evening, walking her through everything you could remember—how Analise had gone to the bathroom, how long she’d been gone, and how your group had discovered she had left the club with a man.  

JJ listened intently, taking notes but never breaking eye contact. Her steady presence made it easier to keep talking, even as your voice faltered at times.  

When you finished, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for being so detailed—it makes a big difference.”  

You offered a small, shaky smile. “I just want her to be okay.”  

“We’re going to do everything we can,” JJ said firmly, her voice filled with quiet determination.  

You nodded again, but as she stood to leave, a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if Spencer really is here? What if he walks through that door next? You weren’t sure you were ready for that moment. Not now. Not like this.  

—

When the call came in about a new abduction, Spencer held his breath, his stomach tightening as a familiar sense of dread crept in. For a brief, harrowing moment, he waited to hear your name. But it wasn’t.  

“Analise Bordeaux,” Penelope said over the phone, her tone efficient but tinged with urgency. “She’s a top-rated journalist for the New York Times. Married, with two kids. Her wife also reported her missing earlier tonight after she didn’t return home at a previously agreed time.”  

Spencer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but the relief was fleeting. Another brilliant, accomplished woman was in danger, and the unsub’s pattern was becoming even clearer.  

“Morgan, Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the tense moment, bringing everyone back to focus. “I want the two of you to head to the club. Talk to the staff, review the footage, and see if anyone remembers anything unusual.”  

“Got it,” Morgan replied, already grabbing his jacket.  

Spencer nodded, silently falling into step with his partner. The ride to the club was quiet, the weight of the case settling heavily between them. Spencer’s mind wandered, as it often did in moments like this, and despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to you. Were you okay? Were you being safe in this massive, chaotic city? The idea of something happening to you gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t shake.  

When they arrived at the club, the music still pulsed faintly in the background as staff cleaned up after the night’s events. The bouncer and several employees were waiting for them, and Derek immediately took the lead, flashing his badge and asking for access to the security footage.  

Spencer scanned the room as they worked, his sharp eyes noting every detail. The club was upscale, the kind of place that catered to high-profile clients, which fit the unsub’s victimology perfectly. He and Derek pored over the footage, watching as Analise stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements sluggish and disoriented. The man who had escorted her out didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, but Spencer’s mind was already analyzing every subtle detail—the way he scanned the room, the calculated calmness in his movements.  

“This guy fits in with the crowd,” Derek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen.  

Spencer nodded. “He knows exactly how to stay under the radar. He’s blending in, using the chaos of the club to his advantage.”  

After questioning staff and gathering everything they could from the scene, the two men left the club and headed back to the precinct. The weight of what they’d seen hung heavily in the air between them, but Spencer was unusually quiet.  

“You good, pretty boy?” Derek finally asked, glancing over at him.  

“Yeah,” Spencer lied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just… thinking.”  

Derek didn’t push, but Spencer could feel his partner’s eyes on him. 

When Derek and Spencer arrived back at the precinct, they headed straight to the makeshift conference area where the rest of the team was gathered. The atmosphere was tense but focused, with everyone comparing notes and piecing together the puzzle of Analise’s abduction.  

JJ was finishing up her report on the interviews she had conducted with Analise’s friends. She held a notepad in her hand, skimming through her findings as she updated the team.  

“We have a list of people Analise spent the evening with,” JJ said, holding up the notepad. “Her coworkers and a few close friends all confirmed she wasn’t acting like herself before she went to the bathroom. Said she was dazed, disoriented in the footage—classic signs of being drugged. One of them even mentioned they tried calling her, but her phone’s off now.”  

As JJ spoke, Spencer’s gaze landed on the notepad in her hand. Something about it nagged at him—a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite place.  

“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the list of names.  

JJ didn’t hesitate, handing the notepad over with a slight frown of curiosity. “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”  

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the list quickly, his brain processing each name at lightning speed. And then he saw it.  

Your name.  

It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on the notepad tightened as if he needed to steady himself.  

You’re here.  

“What is it, Reid?” JJ asked, her voice breaking through the sudden rush of emotions.  

Spencer forced himself to look up, his expression carefully neutral. “Um,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I just… wanted to see if anyone stood out.”  

He handed the notepad back to JJ, his hand trembling slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice, but Morgan, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes at him.  

Spencer’s mind raced. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t spoken to you since the night he let you go. And now, here you were, tangled up in a case involving dangerous predators and a missing woman. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in his chest.  

“You recognize anyone?” JJ asked, her tone casual as she flipped back through the list.  

“No,” Spencer lied once more, his voice steadier this time.  

But inside, he felt like he was falling apart. Because no matter how much he tried to focus on the case, on the unsub, on finding Analise, one thought overpowered everything else: You were here.  

“What do you think, Hotch?” Rossi started, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Should we let them go?” He gestured vaguely, referring to your group still waiting in the designated room.  

“No,” Spencer said quickly, speaking up out of turn. His voice was firmer than he’d intended, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.  

“They’re safer here,” Spencer continued, his tone more measured now. “The unsub might have seen them. If they were with Analise all night, they could’ve been noticed, even targeted.”  

“Reid’s right,” Hotch said, nodding as he turned back to Rossi. “We’ll keep them here until we have more information. JJ, did any of them mention recognizing the unsub from the footage? Or if Analise recently changed anything in her routine that might have drawn attention?”  

JJ gently took her notepad back from Spencer, giving him another curious glance before flipping through her notes. “Uh… yes,” she said, stopping on a specific page. “One of them—Y/N Y/L—mentioned that Analise had just gotten a promotion at work. They went out to celebrate at a new restaurant last Thursday.”  

Spencer stiffened at the mention of your name, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.  

“Alright,” Hotch said decisively. “Let’s bring Y/N back into the interrogation room. She might have seen this man at the restaurant and didn’t realize it.”  

“I’ll go get her,” JJ offered, already rising from her seat and heading toward the door.  

“I’ll come too,” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.  

Everyone turned to look at him again, surprise flashing across their faces.  

“May—maybe a second set of ears,” Spencer stammered, quickly trying to justify his outburst. “Um, a new perspective might help.”  

Hotch studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read Spencer’s motives. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Fine. Go with her.”  

JJ gave Spencer a questioning look but said nothing, motioning for him to follow her. As they walked down the hallway toward the room where you and your friends were waiting, Spencer felt his chest tighten with every step.  

He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. And now, he was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the person he’d never stopped thinking about.  

—

You were just starting to lose your patience, shifting in your seat and glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, when the door opened again. The same woman from before, Jennifer, stepped inside with her calm and professional demeanor.  

“Y/N?” she said with a polite smile. “Can we see you again?”  

Your friends exchanged questioning glances, murmuring words of encouragement as you stood. “Good luck,” one of them whispered as you followed JJ out of the room and down the hallway.  

You tried to steady yourself, reminding yourself this was all routine. Just more questions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But as you stepped into the cold interrogation room again, the air felt different—charged, heavy.  

And then you saw him.  

Sitting in the chair across from the table, Spencer.  

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room that had felt icy before now felt like it was a thousand degrees hotter. You froze for a moment, your mind racing to make sense of the sight in front of you. He looked the same, yet different. His hair was slightly longer, his face a little more tired, but those eyes—the same deep, thoughtful eyes you’d once adored—were unmistakable.  

Spencer’s head snapped up as you entered, and for a second, he looked just as startled as you felt. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.  

“Y/N,” JJ said gently, breaking the heavy silence. She gestured toward the chair across from Spencer. “Have a seat.”  

You nodded stiffly, forcing your legs to move as you crossed the room and sat down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, shock, or something else entirely.  

Spencer cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You blinked, your throat dry as you nodded again. “Hello, agent,” you replied, equally quiet.  

JJ glanced between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but she quickly masked it. “Y/N, we just have a few follow-up questions,” she said, sitting down beside Spencer and pulling out her notepad.  

But it didn’t matter what she said. The only thing you could focus on was Spencer, sitting right there in front of you, as if the years between you had suddenly disappeared.  

The questions started simply enough—where had you and your group gone to dinner? How many people were there? Did anyone stand out or seem to take special interest in you?  

“There was one person,” you said after a moment of thought, tilting your head slightly as you tried to recall the details. “He was a busboy, I believe. But he kept coming by our table to check on us.”  

Spencer, who had been taking notes alongside JJ, immediately perked up at that. “He wasn’t your server?” he asked, his voice calm but focused.  

You shook your head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “No, our server was a woman. She was very attentive, but this guy—he kept showing up. At first, we thought he was just really good at his job, but it started to feel… I don’t know, a little strange.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “Strange how? Did he say anything to you, or was it more about his behavior?”  

“It was mostly his behavior,” you replied, frowning as you tried to piece together the memory. “He’d clear away plates that didn’t really need to be cleared yet, or refill water glasses that were barely half-empty. And every time he came by, he’d linger for just a second too long. It was subtle, but… noticeable.”  

Spencer exchanged a quick glance with JJ before asking, “Can you describe him? Anything about his appearance that stood out?”  

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on the image in your mind. “He was average height, maybe a little shorter than you,” you glanced at Spencer. “Dark hair, clean-shaven. He had this kind of… intense way of looking at people, like he was trying to figure them out.”  

Spencer scribbled furiously in his notebook, his pen moving so fast it almost blurred. “Do you remember if he wore anything unusual? Jewelry, a watch, anything like that?”  

You paused, biting your lip as you thought. “I… I think he had a tattoo on his wrist,” you said finally. “It was hard to see because of the uniform, but when he reached over to clear a plate, I noticed it. It looked like… a triangle, or something geometric.”  

“That’s good,” JJ said with a nod, giving you an encouraging smile. “That’s really helpful, Y/N.”  

But your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was still scribbling notes with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything unsaid passed between you.  

“Anything else you remember, no matter how small?” he asked softly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that felt almost personal.  

You shook your head slightly. “No, I think that’s it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now…” You trailed off, a shiver running down your spine at the realization of how close your group may have been to danger.  

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable as he set his pen down. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  

JJ stood, glancing at her notes before giving you another reassuring smile. “We’ll follow up with the restaurant and see if anyone knows him. You’ve been really helpful, Y/N.”  

You nodded, rising from your chair, but your eyes lingered on Spencer for just a moment longer before you turned to leave the room. And as you walked back to your friends, you couldn’t help but feel like this encounter had stirred up more than just memories of the night—it had brought something long-buried between you and Spencer back to the surface.  

Before you could reach the room where your friends were waiting, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. The unexpected touch made you stop, turning instinctively.  

There he was—Spencer, standing just behind you, his face filled with an urgency that took your breath away. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his words spilling out before he could second-guess himself.  

“Can I see you before I leave?” he asked, his voice low but rushed, as if afraid you might say no.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind scrambling to process the request. And before you even realized it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips almost automatically.  

Relief flashed across Spencer’s face, but he didn’t linger. He simply gave you a small, grateful nod before turning back toward the team. You stood there for a second, trying to collect yourself, before heading back into the room with your friends.  

As soon as you sat down next to Aubrey, she leaned in, her sharp eyes scanning your face. “Was that Spencer?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her voice filled with curiosity and concern.  

You nodded again, unable to bring yourself to speak.  

“Are you okay?” Aubrey pressed, her hand resting lightly on your arm.  

This time, you shook your head. The motion was small, but it felt monumental, like admitting the weight of everything that had just happened. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, the sharp pressure a weak attempt to distract yourself from the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.  

Aubrey frowned, her expression softening as she studied you. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

You shook your head again, swallowing hard as you tried to push the overwhelming feelings down. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Aubrey nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”  

You gave her a faint smile, grateful for her understanding. But as you sat there, surrounded by your friends and the low hum of their conversations, your mind was elsewhere—focused on Spencer, and the inevitable conversation that now loomed on the horizon.  

—

Luckily, your information turned out to be exactly what the team needed. With Penelope’s tech skills and the restaurant staff’s confirmation, they were able to identify the unsub and locate Analise.  

The relief was almost overwhelming when the news came in: Analise was found unharmed, aside from the lingering effects of the drugs and the red marks on her wrists where she’d been bound. The man hadn’t had the chance to carry out his full plan—robbing her or doing worse—thanks to the swift intervention of the police and FBI.  

By the time everything was resolved, the authorities had cleared you and your friends to leave that same night. The long hours of tension melted away as you gathered your things, and your group began heading toward the precinct exit.  

You stuck close to Aubrey, practically glued to her side as you wrapped an arm around her waist. Her presence grounded you, the warmth and familiarity of her reassuring after everything you’d been through.  

“Finally,” Aubrey murmured as the two of you reached the doors, her tone light but laced with exhaustion.  

You nodded, tightening your hold on her as you pushed through the glass doors into the cool night air. But as you stepped outside, your eyes darted around instinctively, searching for a glimpse of Spencer.  

And there he was, standing just a short distance away, speaking with Morgan and Hotch. His back was to you, but even from where you stood, you could feel the weight of the moment.  

You immediately turned your head, your arm tightening around Aubrey as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk Spencer catching sight of you—or worse, calling out to you.  

Aubrey glanced down at you as the two of you walked quickly toward the car. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice steady despite her own obvious fatigue.  

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your grip on her waist betrayed your nerves.  

As you slid into the car, your heart still raced. The thought of seeing Spencer again—even after everything—left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a tiny, nagging part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you’d let yourself stop.  

But for now, you were content to let an officer drive you home, the city lights blurring outside the window as you leaned against the seat, trying to process the night’s events—and the man who still had the power to shake you to your core.  

The incessant ringing of your phone jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the fog of your restless sleep. You groaned, squinting against the morning light as you reached for your phone on the nightstand.  

Your heart skipped a beat when you glanced at the screen. No name was displayed, just a number. But it was a number you could never forget, no matter how hard you’d tried.  

You had deleted Spencer’s contact months ago, telling yourself it was for the best, a necessary step in moving on. But his number was burned into your memory, a string of digits that you could recite as easily as your own name.  

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the answer button. The ringtone seemed louder, more insistent, as if demanding a decision.  

Your chest tightened, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Why is he calling? What does he want? Can I even handle hearing his voice right now?  

But before you could overthink it any further, your thumb moved almost of its own accord, pressing the button and bringing the phone to your ear.  

“Hello?” you said softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.  

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make your heart race, and then you heard it—a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.  

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone cautious, almost tentative. “I… I’m sorry to call so early. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”  

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on, Spencer?” you asked, your tone carefully neutral.  

He hesitated, and you could practically hear him piecing his words together. “I just… I couldn’t leave New York without talking to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not after last night. Not after seeing you again.”  

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.  

“I know this isn’t fair,” Spencer continued, his words tumbling out now, “but… can we talk? Just the two of us? Please?”  

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the headboard as you exhaled slowly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if you were ready to reopen wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. But the sound of his voice, the raw emotion in it, made it impossible to say no.  

“Okay,” you said quietly. “When?”  

“Now?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and hesitation. “I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere—whatever you’re comfortable with.”  

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, your mind still racing. “There’s a café a couple of blocks from me,” you said finally, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”  

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”  

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand. Part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the part that had never really let Spencer go—knew this was a conversation that was long overdue.  

—

November 2004

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice spoke from behind you, polite but a little unsure.  

You turned around, confused, to find a lanky man with slicked-back hair and glasses standing there, looking at you expectantly. He wore an awkward smile, his hands fidgeting slightly as he shifted on his feet.  

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to place him.  

“If it’s no bother, we would really appreciate the check. We were just called into work,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing to a man sitting at the table behind him, who was watching the interaction with an amused grin.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Um,” you started, your tone hesitant, “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”  

The man sitting across from him burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Nice going, Reid.”  

The one who had spoken—Reid, apparently—turned bright red, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I just—your outfit—it looks just like the uniforms the waitstaff are wearing!”  

You frowned, glancing down at your clothes—a crisp white blouse tucked into sleek black slacks. Then it clicked, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Oh, wow,” you said, grinning at him. “That’s… actually kind of funny. I designed the uniforms, so I guess I subconsciously dressed accordingly.”  

Reid blinked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “You designed them?” he asked, his embarrassment giving way to genuine curiosity.  

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, glancing around the restaurant. “I work for the owner—well, freelance. They hired me to design uniforms that were professional but stylish.”  

“That’s… really impressive,” Reid said, his tone sincere as he adjusted his glasses. “They’re—um, they’re very nice. Clearly convincing,” he added, his cheeks still pink.  

The man at his table laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she’s nice, kid. That could’ve gone way worse.”  

You smiled, brushing off the comment. “No harm done,” you said, waving a hand. Then, looking back at Reid, you added, “Just maybe double-check next time before you assume.”  

“Noted,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “And again, I’m really sorry.”  

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head at the interaction. Little did you know, it was the beginning of something much bigger than a misunderstanding over a uniform.  

—

December 2008 – Present  

You sat at the small table in the café, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth with one hand while biting your thumb with the other. The café was quiet, the gentle hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine creating a soothing background. Still, your nerves were anything but calm.  

You hadn’t seen Spencer yet, but you felt his presence looming, the anticipation making your chest feel tight. Your mind raced with a million thoughts—what he would say, what you should say, how this meeting would go after all the time that had passed.  

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar voice interrupted, laced with a soft, teasing tone. “You don’t happen to work here, do you?”  

Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in surprise, only for the tension in your chest to loosen when you saw him. Spencer stood there, looking both nervous and amused, his hands tucked awkwardly into his coat pockets. His hair was slightly tousled from the cold, and his glasses caught the soft glow of the café lights.  

You couldn’t help it—amusement took over as you remembered the very first time he had said those words to you. “Seriously?” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to lead with that?”  

Spencer shrugged, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. “I figured it worked the first time,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes flickered to yours.  

Your heart stuttered at the look he gave you, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in 2005, standing in that restaurant, completely oblivious to what the future held.  

You shook your head, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Sit down, Reid,” you said, your tone light, though your voice still carried the weight of everything unsaid.  

Spencer moved carefully, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment between you. He slid into the chair, his hands resting on the table, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve.  

“You remembered,” you said after a beat, unable to stop yourself.  

“Of course I did,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I remember everything about you.”  

The weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”  

Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe? “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”  

And just like that, the conversation you’d both been avoiding for years finally began.  

Spencer folded his hands on the table, his long fingers twitching slightly as though unsure of where to begin. He glanced down at the tablecloth before looking back up at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out right away.  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve never been one to struggle for words,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.  

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” His voice was soft, almost tentative.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—weighted with years of unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and all the things neither of you had said when you had the chance.  

Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and earnest. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the directness of them catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’d been holding them back for too long.  

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I thought I was giving you the chance to live the life you deserved, to follow your dreams without me holding you back. But all I did was hurt you. And…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “I hurt myself too.”  

You blinked, stunned by the raw honesty in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to dive in so quickly, to say the things you’d spent so long wondering if he even felt.  

“Spencer,” you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you didn’t just hurt me. You made a decision for both of us without even asking how I felt. You thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t give me a choice.”  

He flinched slightly at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I know I handled it all wrong. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times in my head, and every time, I wish I’d done it differently. I wish I’d just… trusted you.”  

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his words stirring something deep within you. “You think I didn’t want to go? That I didn’t think about what it could’ve meant for my career? I stayed because I loved you, Spencer. You were my dream. Not New York. Not Aubrey. You.”  

Spencer’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “And I threw it away,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t throw it away. You made a choice. We both did. And we have to live with that.”  

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it—that he would drop it and let you both walk away again.  

But then he looked up, and his eyes were filled with something fierce, something determined. “I don’t want to live with it,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. Not if there’s even the smallest chance I can fix this—fix us.”  

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung between you. You wanted to say something, to respond, but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak.  

So instead, you just stared at him, waiting for him to keep going. And in that moment, Spencer Reid, the man who rarely hesitated to explain every detail, every fact, every statistic, did something unexpected.  

He waited too.  

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope, for any clue as to how you might respond. You could see the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the desperation for you to believe him, to give him a chance.

“Spencer,” you began softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Fix us? There is no us anymore. You made that abundantly clear when you kicked me out of my home.”

Your words were sharp, cutting through the fragile hope that had been lingering in the air. Spencer flinched as if you’d physically struck him, his face falling with the weight of your statement. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words.

“I didn’t—” he started, but then stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I thought—”  

“You thought you knew what was best for me,” you interrupted, your tone more firm now as the hurt you’d buried for so long began to surface. “You didn’t even ask me how I felt. You made a decision for both of us and expected me to just accept it. And when I didn’t? When I tried to fight for us? You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Spencer said quickly, his voice cracking. “You still matter. I—I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.”  

“Protecting me?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You weren’t protecting me, Spencer. You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d resent you, so instead, you pushed me out of your life completely. And guess what? It hurt just as much—maybe even more.”  

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid. I was terrified. Not just of you resenting me, but of… of failing you. Of not being enough. I convinced myself that letting you go was the selfless thing to do, but all I did was hurt you. And myself.”

You looked at him, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. Part of you wanted to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain you’d carried for so long. But another part of you—a part you didn’t want to admit existed—still ached for him, still felt the pull of the man you’d once loved so deeply.  

“You can’t just come back now and expect to fix everything,” you said, your voice softer but no less firm. “It’s not that simple.”  

“I know,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not. But I had to try. I couldn’t leave New York without telling you how I feel, without letting you know that I’m sorry—for everything.”  

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “And what happens after this, Spencer? What are you expecting? That I’ll just forget everything and we’ll go back to how things were?”  

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t expect that. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking as he added, “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”  

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes—it was all too much.  

But so was the weight of everything that had happened, the scars that hadn’t fully healed.  

“I never stopped loving you either,” you said finally, your voice trembling again. The admission felt heavy, like a weight you had been carrying for far too long, now released.  

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to believe it.  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, it’s only been half a year, Spencer. I thought I was going to marry you. That doesn’t just go away.”  

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, it doesn’t.”  

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet of the café wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the raw, unspoken emotions lingering between you.  

Then, Spencer shifted in his seat, his hands fumbling around in his bag as if he were searching for something. You watched him curiously, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally pulled out a small box.  

“What is that?” you choked out, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer held the box in his hand, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at you. “I bought this the day we went to the mall,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “When you asked me if I ever thought about marriage.” He paused, his fingers brushing over the edges of the box as if grounding himself. “When you went into the lingerie store, I went back and bought the ring you were staring at.”  

Your breath hitched, your mind racing. “How did you know?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.  

“I’m a profiler,” he said with a small, almost shy smile. “I know—knew you so well. It wasn’t hard to see which one caught your eye.”  

“It’s—the ring is in there right now?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

Spencer nodded, his expression cautious but hopeful. “Do you want to see it?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tightening slightly around the box.  

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, slowly, you nodded, unable to find the words to say anything else.  

Spencer opened the box, turning it toward you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.  

The ring was simple yet elegant—exactly the kind of style you’d always admired. A delicate band of platinum, with a perfectly cut diamond set in the center, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled as if they held their own light.  

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, your eyes never leaving the ring.  

Spencer’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he rushed out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.  

“Yes,” you said again, louder this time, your gaze shifting from the ring to meet his wide, questioning eyes.  

“Yes… what?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.  

You took a shaky breath, your emotions swelling and threatening to overflow. “I’ll marry you,” you said firmly, the words filling the space between you like a beacon.  

Spencer froze, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, he looked like he might cry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his hand tightened around the small box.  

“You will?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe and disbelief.  

“Yes,” you said again, nodding for emphasis. “I love you, Spencer. I never stopped. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending like I don’t.”  

Spencer’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his grip warm and steady despite his obvious emotion. “I—I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your voice soft but certain. “Just… ask me.”  

Spencer blinked, his lips curving into the smallest, most genuine smile you’d seen in years. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slid out of his chair and knelt on one knee, still holding the box open.  

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”  

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered, “Yes.”  

Spencer slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking as he did so, and when he stood, you launched yourself into his arms. He caught you easily, holding you tightly as you both laughed and cried, the weight of years of pain and longing finally lifting.  

In that small café, with the world around you fading into the background, the two of you found your way back to each other—against all odds, against all fears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[p0orbaby]

can u do r and lessi being in the gym together and less won’t stop teasing and annoying reader

i switched this around because it fit what i was going for better. hope you don’t mind !

-

The gym is air-conditioned within an inch of its life, but Alessia is still sweating. Proper athlete sweating, the kind where her cheeks are flushed and her hair’s falling out of its ponytail in damp little wisps. She’s in a matching navy-blue set that makes her look like she’s about to film an Adidas advert, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to help.

You’re sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat in the corner, sipping from a water bottle you don’t need because you’re not the one working out. You’re on holiday, after all. Alessia’s the lunatic who insisted she needed “just an hour” in the gym, despite the private beach literally shimmering outside.

“What exactly are you training for?” you ask, watching as she bends forward into some sort of stretch that’s objectively impressive but mostly just funny.

“Pre-season,” she says through gritted teeth, reaching for her toes. “Fitness doesn’t take a holiday”

“Oh, that’s inspiring.” You take another sip of water, just to make a point. “Maybe Adidas should use that. Fitness doesn’t take a holiday, but your girlfriend will”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” she asks, glaring at you from under her sweaty fringe.

“Not really. This is pretty entertaining”

She ignores you and moves to the weights section, picking up two dumbbells that look unnecessarily heavy. You watch as she starts a set of bicep curls, her form perfect, of course, because she’s Alessia Russo and nothing she does is ever less than perfect.

“Nice guns,” you say, resting your chin in your hand. “Bet you could carry all the shopping in one trip”

“Do you want me to throw this at you?” she asks, but there’s a flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“You wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much when I’m unconscious”

She rolls her eyes and moves to the resistance bands. She hooks one around her foot, stretches it, and starts some sort of kickback movement that you can’t take seriously because it looks absurd.

“Are you trying to win a world title or auditioning for the Rockettes?”

That one gets a laugh, though she tries to cover it with a cough.

“Seriously, Less, you’re on holiday,” you continue, leaning back on your hands. “Why are you torturing yourself in here when we could be doing literally anything else?”

“Because I don’t want to lose momentum,” she says, switching legs.

You tilt your head. “Is that what you call it? I call it masochism”

“Shut up”

“You know, I’m proud of you, babe. Really. But if you fall over in those squats, I’m recording it”

She pauses mid-rep to glare at you, and you grin innocently.

When she finally finishes her workout, she’s glistening like a Greek statue come to life. She tosses the resistance band onto a bench and strides over to you, towering above where you’re still sitting like a particularly lazy house cat.

“You done?” you ask sweetly, looking up at her.

“Yep,” she says, and without warning, she reaches down, grabs your hands, and hauls you to your feet in one swift motion.

“Alessia!” you yelp, stumbling into her chest.

She smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Thought you could use a break , seeing as you’ve been sitting there running your mouth for the last hour.”

“I am pretty tired,” you quip, though your heart is pounding slightly from the sudden closeness. “Do you know how much effort it takes to keep up with you?”

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Come on, lazy. Let’s hit the beach”

“Finally,” you say, though you secretly think she looks ridiculously good in that gym kit and you might not mind her dragging you back here tomorrow.

[tarotbydelilah444]

pac: no contact: what do they wish to tell you

♰ P1: three of cups • justice • two of cups 

♰ This person wants to tell you that they have been talking to your friends or their friends on what is the best approach on how to get you back or how they can come forward. This person been talking to their friends and even thinking of wanting to finally commit to you. This person could’ve been a player in the recent past, but now they have put their player days behind them and want to reconcile and offer you a relationship. They are trying to work up the confidence to approach you, but may feel a bit intimidated to make a move, they are scared that you may reject them or that you’ve moved on to a new person.

♰ They wish to tell you that they are still ver much attracted to you. They have tried to forget you or act as if you meant nothing to them, but they were only lying to themselves. They miss your scent, this could be your natural scent or a type of perfume you wear that they love. If you and this person had sex, they think a lot about the sex that they had with you. It plays repeatedly in their head. They could even masturbate to the thought of you or pictures.

♰ If you are dating a new person, this person is extremely jaded and jealous. They may believe that this person doesn’t deserve you and that you should leave that person to be with them. Your person may have tried to move on with other people, but they never measured up to you or touched their heart the way you did. This person wishes that they could tell you that you have the key to their heart and they’re all yours, if you decide to give them a chance. Even when they tried to move on, they always felt deeply connected to you. 

♰ They wish they could tell you how much they love you or how they have fallen head over heads for you whether it’s for the first time or thousandth time. They really love you and hope that you still love them too. 

♰ They wish they could tell you how proud they are of you, in some way, maybe you recently celebrated some type of accomplishment for some, or they want to show you how much progress they have made in their own lives and how they have changed their life around since the last time you saw or spoke with them. They wish they could tell you that you made them a better person and inspired them to do right.

♰ They wish they could bring you on a vacation with just the two of you. They want to get lost in you and remove all the distractions and bullshit. They want to spend quality time together and make up for the time that was lost. 

  ♰ ♰ tarot portion ♰ ♰

♰ three of cups: this person wants their best friend back. They miss the support and the fun times that you had together. They want you back in their lives. They feel so lost without you and long to be in your life again. They talk about you a lot to their friends, trying to figure out how they can get you back and how to fix the mess they created. 

♰ justice: they wish they could tell you how they were wrong and they have since then learned some harsh lessons since you’ve been gone. They want to right their wrongs and bring back harmony and peace in their situation. They want to do right by you this time and offer you a solid commitment that you deserve. 

♰ two of cups: they wish they could tell you that they are ready to put in the effort and reciprocate all the love, support, care, and respect you have shown and given to them. They finally want to work together as a team / unit. They want to tell you that you understand them like no one else has ever tried to. You accept them for who they are never judged them for their shortcomings or flaws. 

channeled messages: 11:11, twin flames, May, March, 8th synastry, 888, red hair, tattoos, Leo, Taurus, stubborn, heart chakra, sacral chakra, solar plexus chakra, “the timing isn’t right”, braids/locs, introvert, accepted, denied, Italy, Africa, Libra, “I’m fucked up over you / this situation,” porn star, bdsm, choking, “you make me so hard/wet”, cybersex, tantric sex, “I love your body”

♰ P2: four of swords • three of cups • five of cups • ace of wands

♰ This person wish that they could tell you that you are their soulmate. They feel a strong connection that exists between the two of you even, if separation is present. Lately they have been trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind this connection and why the two of you were brought together. Although there is separation / no contact, they are still grateful for you coming into their life.  ♰ They wish to tell you that they have been thinking a lot about the you and the separation. They think about how everything used to be and how things are so different and fractured now. They obsessively think about where everything went wrong between the two of you. It almost drives them insane not having a specific reason for why the relationship ended. They try to take their mind off it for a while, but somehow it always comes back 10x stronger to haunt them . They also wish to tell you that the music that they listen to reminds them of you.

♰ They wish they could tell you how they really feel, but they hold themselves back. They act nonchalant or unfazed by the separation, but deep down, they still care more than they let on. They wish that the two could drop the guard and take off the mask and be real with each other for once. They wish they could tell you that they secretly want you back and will be jealous and extremely hurt if you moved on with another person. They also wish they could know how you truly feel about them and if you feel the same way that they feel for you. They think about calling or texting you when they are drunk, just to muster up the courage to say how they feel. ♰ They wish to tell you that none of the other people they have talked to or entertained can compare to you. They cannot find another that can compete with how you made them feel. They want to tell you that you are irreplaceable and unforgettable. For some, if you are wondering if they are entertaining other people, they wish to tell you that they have been loyal and faithful since the separation and aren’t interested in anyone else, but you. ♰ They wish they could tell you that they are taking the time to heal and reflect on everything that has transpired before coming back around. They also wish that there was peace between the two of you and that the two of you can get along. This person won’t show their true feelings, but they are hurting and deeply saddened by the separation. They have deep regrets on how things ended and want so badly to repair things, but are unaware of how to at the moment. 

♰ ♰ tarot portion ♰ ♰

♰ four of swords: This person is currently in the process of healing and taking a break from this connection for the time being. They feel like they need time to reflect on the things that have transpired between the two of you. They feel like this separation / no contact may be the best decision for now to help them get a better understanding and how to resolve the conflict. They are resenting on their actions and trying to take accountability their mistakes. For some, this person wishes to tell you the struggles they are experiencing, this could possibly be their mental health which is making it difficult for them to bring their focus on this connection at the moment. They also wish there was stability within this relationship. ♰ three of cups: They want to reconcile with you. They wish that the two of you can make amends and reconnect in the near future. They wish that they could tell you that they miss and need your support. You kept this person whole and feeling as they weren’t alone in the world. They wish they could tell you that even if the two of you don’t reconcile and get back together, they would still hope that the two of you can be friends.  ♰ five of cups: They wish to tell you how sad they are that the two of you aren’t as close as you should be. They are disappointed with themselves and the outcome of this situation. They wonder if there is any hope for a reconciliation or some type of closure. They wish to tell you that they have finally realized where they went wrong in the connection and they are wondering if it’s too late to fix their mistakes. They regret hurting you or doing something that caused this separation. They want to apologize for their actions.  ♰ ace of wands: They wish for a new and fresh start. They realized that nobody makes them feel so passionate the way you do. They wish to tell you that life has been completely dull and boring without you, you brought life and happiness into their life. They wish to tell you that they miss the intimate moments that they two of you shared and still find you to be sexually and physically attractive. channeled messages: Asian, the past is returning, December, May, 666, 7th house synastry, 9th house synastry, Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo, Aries, Leo, Sag, jealously, “I’m thinking of you”, root chakra, confusion, dishonesty, “ I want you back”, “is there someone else”, braids/locs, piercings, “I’m manifesting us”, “nobody compares to you”, full moon, stubborn, introvert, loyalty, suck & swallow, stroke me, foreplay, strip for me, nice & slow, and experience 

♰ P3: ace of swords • six of pentacles • three of cups • seven of pentacles

♰ This person wishes to tell you that they are planning to see you or contact you very soon, but are trying to figure out an appropriate time to approach you again. This person has been thinking about you for quite some time and may have been stalking your social media to see what you been up to lately. If communication is blocked, this person could have made a fake profile to stalk you or watching you from another person’s account. They also wish that you would unblock them because they want to reach out to you.

♰ This person wishes to tell you that they still feel connected to your energy on a spiritual level, even while in separation. They want to tell you that they feel like the two of you are soulmates, or share some type of karmic connection. They want to tell you that you are the one and onliest person they will ever truly love and believe that fate will bring the two back together.

♰ They wish to tell you how miserable they feel without you. They often find themselves wondering if you are happier without them in your life and if their absence has finally brought you peace. They imagine or have an impression that you are living your best life and enjoying every passing moment of the separation than they are. They wonder if your new attitude is genuine or just a facade to distract you from truth. They also want to know if you are currently seeing other people. For some, you may have a new person in your life, and this person wishes to tell you that they are jealous.

♰ This person wishes that they could get you out of their head. They think about you day and night endlessly that the memories have become too much to bear. They are self-medicating, drinking, smoking, and f*cking to clear their conscious and avoid facing their pain and suffering.

♰ For some, this person wishes to tell you how their life has been going lately. They want to tell you how stressful school or work has been and how they have been stressed and burnt out. They want to tell you the issues going on between them and their family.

♰ Take it if it applies, this person wishes they could tell you how regretful and remorseful they are for being unfaithful to you.

♰ This person wishes they could tell you that they want to make an effort and invest more time into this connection. They are regretful that they did not take this connection more seriously and reciprocate what you gave to them. They want to tell you that they are trying to change for the better and correct their mistakes. They wish to tell you that they are working on themselves to be the best person that you deserve. ♰ ♰ tarot portion ♰♰

♰ ace of swords: this person wishes they could have a honest conversation with you. They want to come clean in a way they have never done before and express their true feelings and intentions. They want to fix whatever issues that caused the disconnect and separation to occur. They want to clear the air and clear up any misunderstandings and confusion that they may have caused. They are ready to own up to their mistakes and put the past behind the two of you.

♰ six of pentacles: this person wishes to bring harmony and balance between the two of you. They want to prove to you that they are willing to put in the effort to win you back. They want to show that they are willing to do whatever they can to give them another chance. They realized that they messed up and that you are one of kind, and that they have to set the record straight and make things right again. 

♰ three of cups: they want to reconcile with you. They realize that they need you in their lives and miss your support, love, and friendship. They remember all the fun times that you and them had together.

♰ seven of pentacles: they wish to tell you that they are willing to nurture and be consistent when it comes to rebuilding this connection. They understand that it will not be easy and will take lots of time, effort, and patience to make this last. They want a long term future with you and they want to show you how serious and committed to you. They want to the two of you to put aside you differences and mature up. They have faith that the two of you can make it work.

channeled messages: Libra, Gemini, Cancer, Scorpio, Aquarius, May, December, family issues, communication blocked, green eyes, self-love, “yes”, spiritual guidance, “I drink and smoke to forget about you”, writer, 3rd house, full moon, college, graduate, casting spells, “you are the first and last thing on my mind when I wake up and go to sleep”, “I’m watching you”, stop looking, Lilith, “i want to kiss you”, new love, divine masculine, co-workers, athletic, good intentions, shower sex, “let me eat it”, one night only, “I’ll make you forget about them” and smoke, drink, and f*ck

[burnforyou]

lay all your love on me

pairing: female singer x jack schlossberg

summary: friends to lovers, he falls first, he’s kinda controlling inspired by his instagram stories today.

“y/n,” jack started, then stopped and just stared at you. you look up from the tomato’s you were chopping and lock eyes with him. you can hear your friends continue their conversation in the other room, unaware of you two.

“hm?”

he sighs. you set down the knife you were using and turn your body fully to him.

“jack?”

“y/n, i want to be serious with you.”

you met jack schlossberg 2 years ago through mutual friends. well, artificial mutual friends. unbeknownst to you, jack arranged for you two to meet after seeing your performance at the Grammys. after your performance, he quickly found whose after party you were attending and got himself on the invites list, and basically faked being friends with people to get to you. how, you’ll never know. but that doesn’t matter.

at the after party, you fell for his charms immediately. he was much more charming (and handsome) than your boyfriend, joe. but that doesn’t matter.

ever since then, you and jack have been the bestest of friends. a day doesn’t go by where you don’t talk to him. now, you’re making pasta from jacks grandma’s famous recipe for your friends.

“i don’t know what you mean.” he picks up his wine glass and downs in it one go.

“i love you, y/n.”

your friends scream as lay all your love on me by ABBA starts playing in the other room.

“i love you too jack” you shout over their singing. they continue even louder. jack grabs your hands, he’s breathing hard. his eyes glisten.

“i’m possessive it isn’t nice” they sing.

“no no, y/n, i want to be with you. y/n i want all of you.”

“jack, this isn’t the right time and you know it.”

you and your boyfriend just broke up because he accused you of cheating. yes, you may have kissed jack once or twice (or maybe a few more times than that) because you were upset, but it wasn’t anything serious. friends kiss all the time, right?

also, you’re about to go on a world tour.

but now it isn’t true

now everything is new

“y/n we can make it work. if you love somebody, you can make it work. and i love you.”

“jack stop it.” you say, removing your hands from his grip but he quickly grabs your waist instead and pulls you closer.

don’t go wasting your emotion

lay all your love on me

“i do, i do love you, you’re amazing there’s nobody like you” you can smell the wine on his breath, it mixes so perfectly with his natural musk and the heat you feel in your stomach from his touch. his hands on your waist that pull you into his body remind you of the first time you kissed him. your body moves before you can think, pulling him down into a kiss. he kisses you like he’s never kissed you before, so needy, so desperate it makes your knees weak. he slinks his hands up to your face and holds you like you’re his treasure. you back away first, hands still on his neck, and he looks at you through hooded eyes.

“the way you smile,” kiss “the way you laugh,” kiss “the way we could spend hours together and i would never get bored,” kiss and a smile. he leans his forehead on yours, your face burns.

the world around you fades away.

“i’ve never felt this way about anybody before,” he whispers.

“me neither.”

“i’ve never laughed so hard in my life. i’m so much better when i’m around you. i cant live without you, y/n” his eyes shine once again.

“jack i love you.” your eyes swell up with tears, blurring jacks face.

“i know we can work it out, y/n, it’ll be fine. we can do distance, hell i’ll follow you across the world. i’d go anywhere for you, y/n, i want this to work. i want us to work.” he speaks as he holds your head, making sure you never look away from him. tears stream down your face, you’re just so overwhelmed with love and emotions you don’t even know what to do. jack holds you and doesn’t let go.

“don’t cry, sweet girl, i need you to listen to me.” you lean into his chest and continue to cry, leaving mascara stains on his white shirt. “why are you crying, hm?”

“jack, i love you so much,” he holds you tight. you never knew how much he loved you, you’ve never been loved like this.

“y/n, listen to me.” you sniffle and look up at him. “i need you, okay? i don’t wanna live without you,” he wipes your tears away, “and if i cant have all of you, i cant handle anything less than all of you. i wanna be with you 24/7, i wanna be fully in love, i never want to leave the stage where we can’t keep our hands off of each other, okay?” you nod against his chest. he never looks away from you.

“i cant share you, i cant share you anymore. i cant share you with another man, i cant share you with your dad, i cant share you with your best friend. i’m your best friend.” he begins to rub your shoulder, his face so full of emotion.

“i’m your best friend who loves you. i’m your best friend who will do anything for you. i’m your best friend, i’m your lover, i’m your husband. i can do all those 3 jobs. i can do it all for you. but i want to know if you can do it all for me.”

“jack, yes,” you speak before you can think.

“shh,” he puts his pointer finger to your lips. “can you be mine?” he asks with a smile. “can you be fully mine? can you be my best friend, partner, lover? can you be the mother of my kids?”

he pauses, looking at you with a smile. neither of you move. your chests rise and fall in unison, your body heat has become one. in this moment, its just you two. you and jack. no one else. no one else matters.

“i’m ready to be serious with you. i don’t want to kiss and tell anymore, i want to marry and tell. i want to be serious with you. i’m committed to you, y/n, and only you.” he pulls you into a deep kiss, a passionate, needy kiss. you kiss him through your tears. you press yourself into his body, a deep need for him taking over.

“so what do you sa-“ you cut off jack before he can finish his sentence with a kiss.

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 5

Yes, I'm aware my premise descriptions suck. I don't know how to write these things without giving away the whole damn plot. Sorry.

Premise: Leona exposes some weak points

Words: 1,951

Music Inspirations: Forget You Now - Big Time Rush

~~~The Consequences of Petty~~~

               Fists clench tight enough they might draw blood, not that I care. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting as far as I can away from the royalty. It takes every shred of self-control I have not to fly through the halls and slam my bedroom door behind me, but I manage. Though the lock clicks harshly.

               Immediately, my hands reach beneath the mattress for my phone, his face lighting up the lockscreen. Even as the words blur in my sight, I tap away.

               Instant regret sets in. I shouldn’t have sent those. However, before I have any chance of taking back my tantrum, I see the dots pending a response.

               I really shouldn’t have done that, but it’s too late to take it back now. Pacing the room, I scramble to compose my frustration. But even as I do, another message comes.

               He’s in the midst of typing more, but I do as he asks.

               I know it’s not, yet I still have responsibilities. But I’ve also crossed a line that’s not easy to take back. The tears won’t stop dripping and the anger bubbling in my chest brings about pathetic hiccups.

               Magic easily whisks me far away from my offenders, granting me instant access to the room of my lion. Immediately, I plop onto his bed, trying to focus on his remnant scent rather than the events leading to my impromptu visit.

               Then Leona arrives, door nearly slamming shut and the lock taking hold.

               “What happened?” Straight to the point.

               I groan at the trouble I’ve cause. Wiping my face feels futile but I hate to have him see me like this. “It’s nothing. I just felt a little overwhelmed at the fitting and got put in my place. Honestly, by now one would think I’d be used to how they treat me.”

               In my best efforts, I put on a smile. Leona does not return the sentiment. Instead, anger seethes off him. Reaching out, I let the man pull me back on my feet. He’s suspiciously quiet, but lets me step into his arms to hide my face and quell my resentment.

               The next few hours pass in much better company. I dwell not on what happened but on this moment with Leona and, soon enough we’re up to our usual catty antics.

               A hand lifts to cover my mouth as I laugh. “Active reform isn’t a term I would immediately associate with you. Sorry Leo.”

               “Yeah yeah.”

               His chin rests on my shoulder. Above Sunrise City, Leona and I peer across the night-addled capital of his country. From the balcony of his room, the wondrous city of civilization and wilderness begins to settle as lights set aglow across the land. It’s so vastly different from my own, but perhaps that’s why I find it so intriguing.

               “But hell, Kifaji keeps riding me about making myself useful as a member of the royal family, then immediately shuts down whatever I say.”

               “Well stuff that crochety old bird.” I love that baritone laugh in my ear. “I think you’d make a decent king.”

               “’Decent?’”

               It’s my turn to laugh. “Come now. You know you need someone to temper that ego of yours. Or at the very least convince you to get out of bed.”

               “Oh yeah? And I bet you think that someone’s you, right?”

               I can’t fight the smile on my lips.

               His head bumps against mine. “Now who’s got an ego?”

               “Probably still you.” Reflexively, I lean into his affection. “But I know you could do great things—whether or not you’re king. You could change lives for the better.”

               “I’m not sure my ego is that big.”

               I laugh. “It’s true. You changed mine.”

               There’s a lapse in his response. Suddenly, my heart hitches. Leona’s nose skims my neck, goosebumps creeping across my skin as warm breath whispers against it. My fingers slide into his hair, encouraging his attention. However, at the feel of his fangs, kind fingers turn cruel, pulling him off.

               “Leonaaa,” I warn lowly. A breathy growl retorts. “We talked about this: no marks.”

               Retreat comes with a huff. “One of these days you’re gonna leave here marked head to toe.”

               “Yeah right.” Turning in his grasp, I press a finger to his chest. “You, on the other hand, are free and clear to be marked.” That harlequin gaze closely follows the tongue that traces my lip. “I quite like the sound of that. Great and mighty Leona Kingscholar—marked as mine.”

               “You’re outta yer mind.”

               “Come now.” A line drawn from his collar to his jaw using my tongue causes tension in him. “Wouldn’t it be so lovely on that beautiful skin of yours. Let me show you my desire—just a taste of the things I want to do to you.”

               Our proximity is the only reason I detect the quiver in his exhale. “You could at least fight fair.”

               “Oh you can’t fool me. I bet you’re thrilled. You can’t wait to feel my mouth on you.” It’s his turn to bristle with goosebumps while my lips ghost across his neck. “Because I know you’re dying to know what I would do. Isn’t that right?”

               Surprise and pride fuel my lust when the haughty man has no answer. So I make good on my words.

               The feel of his hands digging into my back as I latch onto his neck is so gratifying. Spiced citrus fills my nose while my tongue presses against the spot I chose. This time, the shudder that escapes comes more noticeably. With each little movement, Leona’s body betrays his cool composure. Even his voice gives away his weakness with each pitiful whimper he fails to contain.

               I could ride this high forever, coasting on the toxic fervor of having this man under my control. His strength, his power, his smarts, cunning, charm—his attention: all of it belongs to me. Everything I’ve ever wanted exists in this moment and I want more.

               I really never had a chance.

               My hold breaks, making way for my tongue to clean up the mess. Another shiver wracks his chest at the feeling. What’s left behind is a beautiful, violet stain against his olive skin. That mark along with his embarrassed expression—I couldn’t be more thrilled.

               “What’s wrong, Leo,” I purr, tracing my work with a finger.

               Ears flat, eyes clenched shut, Leona recomposes himself. When he turns on me again, I’m met with a gaze of burning hunger.  

               The rumble of his voice hits like a shot of adrenaline. “You’re gonna regret that.”

               My lips quirk. “I’d never regret claiming you.”

               His mouth descends on mine, that ravenous mouth devouring everything I offer and more. Lips crash together eagerly, stealing kiss after kiss. His tongue asks for no permission before finding its way into my mouth to claim all it can reach. Space no longer exists between us. That rapid thumping between us is no longer distinguishable and can only be described as our heartbeat. I thought that I wanted more, but Leona is demanding it.

               However, greed breaks softer than it began. It appears that predator’s façade is wavering though that spark of desire holds true. Hot breath mingles together, not a word breaking through. His brows furrow, almost conveying pain. That grip has only gotten tighter, even his tail coiling around my leg.

               I never could’ve prepared for his admission.

               “I love you.”

               My mouth hangs open, struck speechless.

               It’s hard to believe that this is the same man that so coyly convinced me to indulge in this taboo. All that haughty, smug attitude is gone, baring a brutal honesty that I’m sure he’s never shown before. My heart may just burst.

               Finally, some of that elation manages to respond.

               “I love you too.”

               Rather than another kiss, Leona pulls me flush against him in the purest embrace.

               This is where I belong.

               A buzzing sends my stomach lurching. Immediately, a hand flies to my pocket to silence the alarm. Disappointment immediately washes over us. I really don’t want to.

               “I should go…”

               His face nuzzles against my hair. “Or you could stay.”

               “I can’t. I have to attend dinner with some potential trade ambassadors. You know that.”

               His heavy sigh cracks at my heart.

               “Besides, I believe you also have some ambassadorial duties to attend to, right? Something with the Scalding Sands?”

               A groan is muffled in my shoulder.

               “Come on, Leona.” I encourage with an affection head bump.

               Reluctantly, the lion pulls away, his touch lingering against my skin until I’m physically out of reach. I already miss it. Poorly contained woe rolls off him, seeping into my weakened heart. This is always the worst part of our relationship.     

               “I’ll see you soon.”

               Thorough hands straighten my clothes. In some attempt to regain contact I’m sure, Leona reaches out to fix my hair for me. When his hand rests against my cheek, I smile.

               “Good night.”

               With a dip of his head, one last kiss graces my forehead.

               “Night.”

               It takes sheer willpower for me to turn away from the prince. In my usual fashion, I draw a line through the air. Sparks of magic trace my movement, parting space to insert a doorway to somewhere far away. Though my heart yearns to stay, I step through the portal into what is my bedroom.

               I peer back through the magic. Regret sits on his face as he watches. Unfortunately, this isn’t something I can change. Still, I hate to see him like this. With my hopes, I blow a kiss, elated to draw even the smallest simper from my surly lion before the portal closes.

               With that, I hastily strip of my clothes and bustle into the shower where I scrub my skin nearly raw. Wild wind whips across my skin in my haste to dry off and I pull on a new set of clean clothes. Once I’m clean and presentable, I pick up the bottle of perfume gifted to me and proceed to spritz generously.

               Lastly, before I leave the room, I retrieve the velvet box from the nightstand. Inside sits an intricate silver ring twisted with black meant to resemble briar thorns. At the top, a glittering peridot nestles among the strands. On my finger I slip the ring, just as someone knocks on my door.

               The usual guard, Silver, calls through the door. “Your highness, dinner is nearly ready and our guests are here.”

               “Thank you.”

               I follow the royal guard down to the dining hall where chattering can be heard. Introductions give names to faces and nations.

               As we make our way to the dining hall, one of our guests addresses me.

               “That is a lovely perfume you’re wearing,” she compliments.

               I rest a hand against the arm of the man at my side. “Thank you. I’m told it’s made from the briar roses grown in the castle’s very own garden. It was a gift.”

               “No doubt from your wonderful fiancé.”

               How easy it is to wear this comedy mask. “Of course.”

               The dragon speaks. “You’ve been wearing it quite a lot recently.”

               The slightest fear burns in my ears. “Unfortunately, I lost the bottle for some time in my closet and only just found it again.”

               I didn’t lose it.

               “I see.” He glances me up and down just once. “Then no doubt you’ll be needing more soon.”

               “Oh yes, that would be much appreciated.”

~~~~~

Part 6 (Coming Soon)

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[katerinaaqu]

One can argue that modernity is by definition the absence of form and that everything can change but either way again I completely disagree with the notion that there is no other way it could be successful. And many fans even got disappointed at the changes and all. Again we have so much connected the idea of "retelling" with "forget the plot" sometimes and it shows to all the "modern retellings" how they miss the point of the material they ellegedly adapt by a mile. Is your opinion and good for you to have it but again I disagree big time. It is a matter of marketing sometimes and like I said many people got disappointed at the changes as well. Many even said "we ignored the changes because music was good" and again i disagree. You might claim that and I can counter we shall never know again I disagree that you cannot be lore accurate. That is my opinion that's all.

I never meant to say over 3 hours although i see why it comes out this way. I meant 3 hours is a length that one expects a performance to have. And again I said many times over that he doesn't need to adapt every single moment of the Odyssey and turn it into a 5 hour thing. I said it would be better to be lore accurate. I literally said nothing of speeding up. Where on earth did that come from? On the contrary. In fact the last saga WAS sped up and it showed to the narrative.

Actually they were not to the Odyssey but to epic cycle and AGAIN that is exactly what I said. I said the first two sagas proved that you can have a LOOSE ADAPTATION (not 100% acurate) and STILL be lore-acurate. Astyanax incident was spoken in just one line in the Iliou Persis. It was given a reason in the musical. THAT is what I expect to see in an adaptation; liberties that work WITH the plot and fill in some gaps. Not something that says "fuck the plot I'll do whatever" that is not an adaptation in my mind or at least not a good one but it also depends on the media.

And I never said you did?! 🤷‍♀️ I said that is the feeling I got from some people who loved the musical who couldn't understand my dislike for it. Where did I say you said that? I said that they state their opinion on THAT matter like you express your opinion on THIS matter. And again why can't you accept that someone has a different idea on what a retelling is? You can say it is. I say it isn't because I do not agree in this method and a story that ignores the most basic parts of a plot does not count as a retelling in my book. It is an original story inspired by a material.

I put the emoji for a reason my friend. I was only half serious on that answer. I am honored you enjoyed my posts which is why also I engage with you and I express my opinion sincerely and directly because I believe we can be honest with each other. And when I said "don't expect me to change my mind" I meant that as an emphasis that I respect your opinion but I would continue to express the same thought and say that I disagree. If that offended you in any way that was not my intention. I see that you are passionate on your subject and I am on mine so I only "warned you" that my answer will still be the same. I NEVER said you are trying to push your opinion on me now I believe YOU shouldn't misunderstand me. I only mention that my opinion will continue to be the same.

And I said a hundred times already that I do not say you try to do the same and I also said that I didn't feel like that with most of fans either. You keep insisting on that but again all I said was that I disagree with you. Why do you feel attacked? If my previous reply seemed harsh I am sorry but again I didn't say you tried to push your opinion I only state what I do with mine.

Okay right back at you. I feel that you are not listening what I say. I again said I do not consider it a retelling because it literally respects nothing of the plot. It is not re-telling the story it is a writing of a new one (again that is my opinion). You disagreed and I disagree. Why do you keep saying that I accuse you of something? Also I said a million times you do not need a word for word thing to have a loyal adaptation. I also stated it a hundred times. Cutting is inevitable. THIS amount of change was optional.

I see. You definitely are free to do so. Honestly it is sad that it comes this way but you absolutely can and you have the right to do so. I am sorry you felt this way perhaps that is because I express my opinion too passionately the same as you. It happens. I am sorry that it comes this way. No I do not block people. If others wish to block me is up to them. It wouldn't be the first time. It is up to you. You do not need to earn Mr for it and I do not live for followers or people who block me

I know I am not a pleasant person and never claimed to be. I am who I am. If that is so unpleasant to you that you wish nothing to do with me is up to you really. No need to warn me about it.

You realize that a fandom has gone off the rails or that it has REALLY taken over when you see "Epic the Musical" tagged under images of Achilles and Patroclus! Like...how are two characters who were both dead by the taking of Troy, yet alone by Odyssey who do not appear not even as a mention for the Underworld as they were in the Odyssey, relatable to this?!

Sorry! XD

[hamofjustice]

y'know, sometimes I focus a lot on the implications of Juliana/Florian maybe possibly being Nemona's official Greatest Treasure for the semester but not fully confirmed as such, or the undertones of her wanting them to promise to be "rivals for life," when I rant er I mean discuss how it'd be really messed up if she got left behind when they transferred to Blueberry Academy in The Indigo Disc

but I can't believe "I've relished every day since you moved here" is an actual unedited line she says. I just assumed I had embellished that one in my head. nope. there's no way to misread that, no embellishment needed, she just says it! and then gets kind of embarrassed about it and she says she's gonna blush when they say either variation of "you too"

not to be like "there is no platonic explanation for this," because there totally is, but if she's going to be shipped with anyone I think it's really hard to justify it being with anyone else as long as the player character is in the picture

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[buds-and-baubles]

It was a losing battle with the enemy they faced on the outskirts of San Francisco. The other Teen Titans weren't there to combat this threat, just Superboy, Robin, Wonder Girl, and Impulse to hold the line. All of them had grisly injuries, Superboy weak from the kryptonite in this foe's hands. Communication for assistance was sent out, but there was no telling when help would arrive.

The villain began to monologue as many of them do, his arrogance at a percieved victory heavy in his tone. He already believed the battle over, debating on whether or not to kill them.

The four exchanged glances as they tried to formulate a strategy that wouldn't exacerbate their injuries, labored breathing the only sound between the group of heroes.

Rumbling shook the earth, a distant wooshing sound that grew closer invaded the atmosphere, noticeable enough for the villain to pause in the middle of his speech.

"What the–"

A blurry object whizzed past the fallen Teen Titans, their enemy being dragged across the ground with a scream. The blur or rather, a mystery man stood at the feet of their foe.

The stranger was of staggering height well over six feet, flowing white hair thrown over his shoulder. His face had sun-kissed skin with a subtle golden sparkle and faint freckles, chiseled like a Greek statue you would find in a doric bordered building of great importance.

Kirlian aura halo framed his head with a golden glow like a lens flare on a camera, unnaturally blue eyes that flashed briefly with the same gold of his halo. His outfit was all white from his hands to his feet, save for the golden yellow upside down triangle that framed the bottom of his neck at the top of his clothing, a similarly colored circle in the center of an upside down white triangle in the center of the yellow triangle.

"W-Who the hell are you?!", the villain spit out harshly, his hands clutched the kryptonite close to himself.

The man's inhuman blue eyes refused to break eye contact as they narrowed, "Apollo."

"The God?"

Apollo chuckled, the sound like roaring embers which waited their moment to break from the fire pit that contained it.

"Depends on who you ask. Do you fear this God?"

The villain refused to answer which was an answer in and of itself. He scrambled to his feet, to purposefully hold the kryptonite closer to who dare challenge him.

The Sun King huffed, glowing green rock snatched from the other's hands before he could even blink. Held in Apollo's fist, he squeezed until kryptonite was nothing more than dust in the palm of his hand, which he blew in the face of the foe.

"How? The kryptonite–"

"Start fucking praying. Pray for all the goddamn bones in your body I'm about to break."

"No ally of Superman would talk like tha- AGH!"

Blood coated Apollo's right fist from the clean break of the villain's nose. He shook off the substance like it was a nuisance.

"You fancy yourself a man who harms children, hm? What have you to say for yourself? I'll give you one and only one chance to explain."

"They're no mere ki–"

Another shriek cut the foe off as his left wrist was broken, now clutched close to his chest.

"Cape or not, they are children. Children which I heard fighting for their life from my home. You interrupted time with my family."

The villain remained quiet for once. Whether out of fear or no snarky words left to say is questionable.

Apollo lifted the man by the collar of his shirt, golden shining orbs to greet the other like staring directly into the sun, "You will learn that a life of eternal suffering is much less kind than death."

[miodiodavinci]

i saw that you used to hint at oc stuff on twitter (don't ask me why im digging im looking for zola stuff lmao) why don't you post more about them?

i am simply terrified that if i post oc things online someone will steal the concept and run with it faster and better than i ever could have and then i will be devastated forever and ever

more seriously i have very little to show for any of my oc things (adhd brain making life difficult as per usual awawawawawa) and every time i've shared oc things in the past i've ended up never following up on it and it makes me feel bad and guilty so i've just convinced myself i will Never talk about my ocs until i have something substantial i can put out there

[constantvariations]

Why did they create such a useless character to show Cinder's backstory when Salem is literally right there AND the real question the audience wants answered???

Imagine if it had been Salem who stayed at the hotel and saw something of herself in the scrappy servant girl. She saw how the Madame treated little Cinder and offered a way out only if Cinder has the power to be useful to her. Maybe she put Cinder to a test of how far she was willing to go for freedom, or maybe Salem wanted something from the Madame that she wouldn't give so it was up to Cinder to provide

Either way, Salem gets a young disciple that's ruthlessly ambitious and easy to manipulate and Cinder gains the illusion of freedom under a new master

[umihoshi]

7 Deadly Sins is so unappolagetically cringe and whimsy. It's like introducing your friends to your cat who you love so so much, cuz he's silly and funny and actually really smart. but objectively, it's the ugliest critter you will ever see.

[fitzselfships]

Again, not self ship related but I'm posting it here so the person I'm talking about won't see it. Anyway I am thinking about my crush so much right now GOD I remember now how painful it is to have a crush </3

[cagcd]

Skills  &.   powers.

don't reblog or steal or i will live in your walls <3

Johnny's interest in martial arts hadn't been intended,   despite his fascination with the likes of Bruce Lee and other famous action stars while growing up,   it never occurred to him that he would ever go down the same path as them,   and reach so far beyond than the life of any Hollywood star would ever hope for.   He began with a simple course of Karate as a means of self defense,   his mother came to the decision after many instances of bullying that went unaddressed and unpunished in his school,   he needed to learn to toughen up and stand up for himself,   [  a task that should be appointed to a father that was constantly out of the picture.  ]   It was fun to the young boy he was at first,   but as he progressed from one belt to another,   his interest had grown exceptionally,   he practiced non stop and got recognised for his hard work,   eventually earning him a spot in various local tournaments then world championships,   which he had won four in his lifetime.   His achievements gained him audience with the best masters around the world and he was eager to be taught by them,   he advanced in other forms of Karate like Shorin Ryu,  Shinto Ryu,   [  that he later developed better from Darrius' teachings,   who he had gotten to meet during his training in Orderrealm later on.  ]   He mastered Jeet Kune Do and Muay Thai as well.

  It was all skill and physical abilities that had unknowingly qualified him to be a part of the mortal kombat tournaments,   which he at first agreed upon as a publicity stunt to save his failing career at the time.   It was at the end of the first tournament that something within him had sparked into a life,   a power beyond his imagination or knowledge to ever be in possession of.   Raiden himself didn't seem to be aware of it but after some research it's revealed to the star that he was a descendant from a mediterranean cult that bred warriors for combat.   That green glow is similar in essence to the likes of Shang Tsung,   Quan chi,   Nightwolf and even Shao khan,   which is presumably cultivated by souls.   The method with which this cult used to create a generation of warriors by using the souls of their fallen as enhancement for combat.   It was dormant during Johnny's life,   awakened at the defeat of Shao,   as his last remains were fading,   he had unknowingly absorbed a large amount of souls the Kahn had in possession from all the worlds he had conquered.

  It was a gradual shift from then on,   something was off but he could never put his finger on It,   only for it to emerge during the encounter with Shinnok,   the green glow that encased his body and acted like a shield,   fading as quickly as it had appeared.   He couldn't summon it by will again,   but rather it showed by itself,   more frequently the more he fought,   constantly feeding into that power until the near catastrophic end result as sudden bursts of energy from a huge quantity of souls his body was now struggling to contain.   He sought Raiden and Nightwolf's advice in order to control it,   or at least understand it,   [  for he was worried he might hurt those around him unintentionally  ],   the only solution they could come to was to send him to Orderrealm,   where he went through long and extensive training by both Hotaru and Darrius,  the conclusion was learning how to channel those powers through controlled blasts of energy,   as seen through what became his signature move afterwards the shadow kick.   He also learned to direct them through his kicks and punches,   conjuring energy blasts,   then later and with enough experience,   encasing his body with it to be used as shield upon command,   or his fists and kicks as an enhancement of strength during combat.

  Moreover,   due to this connection with souls,   his attentive nature is heightened as he can sense the others feelings to a relative degree by picking up on negative energy and thus better understand those around him.   It might be said he mastered his inner powers with age,   he's certainly more in control and attuned to its full capacity,   he can channel energy with ease and fluidity as though its second nature to him or an extension to his strength.   But he isn't exactly in full control at all times,   as explained,   he simply learned how to channel it   &.   keep those bursts of energy in check.   However,   when he's driven to an edge and is at the end of his limits,   his powers shift from green to crimson red,   which happens only when he uses his powers to its full extent,   but lack of concentration in that state can he destructive and it's highly draining to him that his body shuts down completely afterwards,   it's a last trump card he uses only at dire circumstances.

  Johnny possesses those powers in the new timeline as well,   had never been aware of them but just like the previous timeline it's a gradual process,   already triggered without his knowledge during the fight against Quan chi to stop the well of souls from creating Ermac.   Some of the souls that escaped when the stone was broken had gone through to Johnny who had been knocked unconscious at the time.   Some semblance of his powers show through speed for the most part,   when he dashes forward to evade an attack or when he puts enough force into a punch or kick,   the shadow left behind is quick for the eye to see but there's a faint green glow within it.   It's a slight shift he had noticed but took it as nothing more than a result of more extensive practice.   But its only bound to grow and emerge in full with time,   well after the first tournament and constant combat that he finds out and seeks Liu kang's aid this time around.

[cloudsrust]

The more I look at Crowley's Bentley filled with plants the more I can't help but think of Dirty Car by Studio Killers-