#and she was like i get it’s frustrating but we’re a team so we have to

[luvzshy]

Between Shadows

Word Count: ~530 words

Summary: After a mission gone wrong in Zaun, you’re left injured and cornered until Vi and Caitlyn come to your rescue. Tensions rise as Caitlyn confronts you about your reckless choices, while Vi keeps things light, showing that despite the danger, they care deeply for you.

Warnings: Injury, implied violence, arguments, mild language, and high-stress situations.

The night in Zaun was thick with smog and tension. You pressed your back to the damp wall of an alley, catching your breath as your heart hammered in your chest. The job had gone south—bad intel, too many enforcers, and now you were stuck in the lower city with the risk of being caught at every corner.

But they were coming. You’d sent the signal, a small mechanical flare that only Caitlyn would recognize. You could only hope she wasn’t too late.

“Do you ever not get yourself into trouble?”

The voice made you whip your head around, but it was Vi, stepping out of the shadows with her signature gauntlets glinting in the faint light. Her smirk was as sharp as ever, though her eyes scanned you for injuries. “You look like hell.”

“Feel like it too,” you muttered, slumping against the wall. “You alone?”

“Not a chance,” Caitlyn said, emerging from behind Vi with her rifle slung across her back, her expression far less amused. “You’re reckless. Do you realize how dangerous this was?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you argued, though you couldn’t meet her piercing gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

Vi snorted, crossing her arms. “It never is with you.”

Caitlyn shot her a look before stepping closer. She placed a gloved hand on your arm, her touch firm but not unkind. “We’ll talk about this later. For now, we need to move before someone notices us.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar tug of safety they brought, even in the chaos. “Lead the way.”

The three of you moved through Zaun like shadows, Caitlyn keeping an eye out for patrols while Vi stayed close, her movements deliberate and protective. The tension between you and Caitlyn was palpable—she was furious, but you could tell it came from worry more than anger.

It wasn’t until you reached a safe house that she let her emotions surface. As Vi secured the door, Caitlyn turned to you, her arms crossed. “What were you even thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous this city is right now?”

“I was trying to help,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended. “I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“That’s not how this works,” she snapped, her voice tight with frustration. “We’re a team, remember? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Vi, leaning against the wall, interjected, her tone less sharp but just as firm. “She’s right. You pull a stunt like that again, and we’re gonna have problems, got it?”

You looked between them, guilt settling in your chest. “I’m sorry. I… I just didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours. “You don’t get it, do you? We’d rather be in the middle of the danger with you than safe without you.”

Vi grinned, pulling you into a light, one-armed hug. “Yeah, so stop being stupid. We like having you around.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile. “You two are insufferable.”

“Good,” Vi said with a wink. “Guess that makes us a perfect match.”

[silhouetteonpaper]

Benched

Summary: You’re cut from participating in missons for the foreseeable future; the news was delivered by none other than your girlfriend, Natasha. The torturous break from Avenging seems to be unfair... until you hear the other perspective. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 2,393 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, gun use, killing, repressing memories

“I’m sorry?” You weren’t sure if you had heard Natasha’s words correctly; her serious tone didn’t match the saddened look on her face. She was standing across from you as you sat at the empty conference table, summoned only moments ago by the Widow herself.

“We’re benching you from missions until we feel you’re ready.” They didn’t sound any more real this time, either. Natasha, your mentor and girlfriend was telling you to sit the next few missions out. Actually, she was forcing you to sit every mission out for the foreseeable future. You were furious, but tried to keep composed as to not dig a deeper grave.

“Until you feel I’m ready? That’s subjective, how long will it take?” You questioned with crossed arms, your shoulders stuck by your ears out of defense. You’d never been like this around Nat; closed off, defensive, angry. She’d never needed to bar you from missions like this, so it was a first for the both of you.

“We feel your actions on the last mission require some time off.” She explained, noticing the unrelenting confused yet frustrated expression on your face. Natasha felt bad, she was only following the orders of her superiors. They believed that making her relay this information would soften the blow, but as your girlfriend it didn’t make it any easier.  “Look,” She walked around the table, sitting beside you. Her hand found your knee, a soft touch forcing you to unfurl your brows slightly. “This isn’t a punishment. We just want to make sure you’re okay mentally after what happened.”

She was referring to the events of yesterday's mission, something you had hoped would just get buried under the rug. It was supposed to be a simple interrogation; the team would press the target to find some confidential information. The only issue was that the target had a liking for pushing people’s buttons. His jabs were relentless, spitting insults about the people he’d killed like they were nothing.

You were only supposed to hold the gun to his head in a daunting, coercive way. So you did, for a while anyways—until he stated something you didn’t believe was humanly true.

“I don’t regret killing them.” His words had turned your blood to ice, the pointer finger stationed over the trigger shaking out of anger. He was talking about the people he killed to get close to the Avengers. Some of them being your family, the people you loved most. His greedy play was wiping pawns off the table, when in reality they were more than just objects. Natasha was originally reluctant to include you on this mission, due to your emotional connection. But this man had targeted many of the Avenger’s closest relatives, so if she benched you she’d have to bench everyone else.

It turned out she’d have to bench you anyways, as you broke protocol within seconds of his nasty comment. The gun echoed through the cellar you were all stationed in, the man suddenly going quiet as his head lolled to the side. The main source of intel for one of the biggest missions was dead. Everyone’s heads turned toward the responsible weapon; there you were, eyes wide with a smoking gun still held to his head.

After being escorted back to the compound between silent teammates, you locked yourself in your room for the night. Natasha tried to come in, knocking on your bedroom door every so often with tempting offers of cookies or movie nights, but you wouldn’t budge. The next morning, hushed whispers greeted you the second you entered the kitchen. It was obvious they were talking about you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You knew what you did was wrong, and were ready to move on. So, you acted like it didn’t happen.

Maybe that worried the team even more, especially Natasha. You weren’t one to move on from things so quick, especially considering the grudge you held for the man responsible for all that death. Breaking protocol like that and shooting an important hostage was even more out of character, you knew the importance of his intel. Running on impulse, especially in regard to your emotions was unusual, it would be for any trained agent.

But it all caught up with you, and clearly the team discussed a plan of action behind your back. They believed your slip up was more than just a mistake—that there was something deeper behind it. It was slightly offensive, seeing them assume you were emotionally inept that they didn’t even include you in the conversation. You didn’t even think hard enough on what happened to realize maybe they were right; instead you shoved it deep down inside. Now, the truth was facing you head-on, and there was no escaping it.

This isn’t a punishment? You repeated Natasha’s words in your head. It sure felt like one, your favorite thing in life being withheld like a kid getting their iPad taken away. Everyone knew how much your work meant to you, so why would they take away the one thing you loved doing? Besides, you felt fine mentally. The past was in the past, and you were ready to move forward.

“I’m fine, I swear. Please, Nat—don’t take me out of the running just because I made a mistake.” You pleaded, looking to her with a softened expression. The two of you were close, having been in an official relationship for months now. But this was uncharted territory, and the thread connecting you both was slipping as this new side of you was showing. It was her turn to become defensive as she withdrew her hand.

“A mistake? You killed our most important hostage! If you weren’t one of our top agents, Fury would’ve had you fired!” She was right, but you weren’t going to admit that. Instead you huffed, leaning back in your chair as your gaze found anywhere to look but at Natasha.

“I couldn’t let him get away with what he did.” You muttered, shaking your head. Natasha took a deep breath, concern slowly rising across her face. It was easy to see the hurt on your face, even without directly mentioning your family. They were your everything, and he killed them like they were nothing. But two wrongs don’t make a right, every agent knew that. You should’ve known that. And she didn’t want you to jeopardize your job—your passion, over your stubbornness. She leaned toward you slowly, her eyebrows lowering.

“See, this is what scares me. You knew we’d find justice eventually, but you could’t wait and it blew the entire mission.” Natasha spoke carefully, her words making your stomach churn. Scared?Blew the entire mission? Even for her, these were hasty conclusions to draw.

You crossed your arms again. “What are you insinuating?” To say you blew the entire mission was harsh, even if it was true. An agent would never blame another, not directly like this; especially when that agent was your girlfriend. You knew there was more to it, the ice hidden underneath her tone queued you in.

“That now your family will never get the justice they deserve.” Her words are like knives, stabbing straight into your heart. You weren’t sure if she was trying to break you, or if she truly felt this way. That your mistake cost the entire mission, one that was supposed to avenge your dead relatives. Your eyes went wide with shock, expression frozen as you processed the very words that left her lips. They weren’t coming from your girlfriend; the girl you loved would never say such a thing.

Natasha doesn’t flinch, yet unbeknownst to you she was heartbroken on the inside. You both felt like a stranger was standing opposite, your actions and her words causing a rift between the connection that was strong mere days ago. You were impatient, emotional, and couldn’t follow the stupid protocol, and now it may have cost your job and maybe even your girlfriend.

Your eyes narrowed, oozing with betrayal. “You don’t mean that.” Words softer than the hardened expression painting your face, you were almost speechless. Once again, Natasha left you questioning if what she said was actually true, or just a figment of your imagination.

She nodded once, slowly, like a predator bowing its head to prey. You were officially benched, and there was no arguing your way out of it.

—————-

2 weeks, 4 days, 1 hour, and 37 minutes had passed since you were forced to stay within the many walls of the compound. Not like anyone was counting, though. Although spacious and full of various forms of entertainment, the large facility made you feel restless after the first day. You grew bored, itching to get your hands on new cases or even old mission reports.

The quinjet was taunting you. Standing outside the large glass window, calling your name as you sat inside waiting for the go-ahead. But as the hours, days, and weeks passed, it never came. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha since the fight—only exchanging quick glances through narrowed eyes or inconspicuous expressions in passing. Instead, you bothered everyone else about it.

“No, you’re still on temp-leave,” someone would say. “Take some time to relax, focus on yourself.” More voices would eventually join in. It was unrelenting; the only ‘self-care’ you cared about was the one thing that genuinely made you happy: Avenging. But everyone was stuck following orders, keeping you locked inside the compound with your own self to blame.

When everyone left you alone at the compound to go on missions, It gave you time to reflect. You paced the halls replaying the mission over and over, eventually shaking your head as the memory morphed into the shape of your family. You didn’t want to think about them, so you simply filled your time with busywork in order to keep the hurt at bay.

After picking up a few new hobbies, discovering some newfound talents, and recovering old favorite pastimes, you still felt a hole where Avenging used to be. You missed it, and this time off was making you feel worse, if anything. On the 20th day, you built up the courage to talk with Natasha. She was tame the past few days, finally offering you the occasional smile when you made the team dinner, or handing you baked goods when she went on her usual coffee run.

Natasha was sitting in the empty living room, typing on her laptop as she glanced between the screen and some mission reports. “Hey,” you spoke softly, sitting down on the couch opposite of her. Her green eyes popped up, eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly. You had her attention. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have belittled my actions that hurt other people, it was truly more than just a mistake and I feel terrible about it.” You were speaking truthfully, and Nat could tell; but she wasn’t satisfied.

Shutting her laptop, she stacked her work off to the side with full intrigue. “Tell me, have you thought about your parents during this time off?” She questioned. You swallowed thickly, immediately regretting your half-assed apology when there was more to it than just feeling bad about your actions. You hadn’t thought about your parents, mostly on purpose; and Natasha was hoping to get after exactly that.

“Look, love,” Her tone softened slightly, and the use of the nickname made you feel even the smallest bit more comfortable. She was still yours, and you were still hers, it was all just on hiatus for the moment—like your job. “This break wasn’t supposed to be time for you to feel bad about what you did. It was time for you to process what happened.” Natasha stood, moving to sit next to you as her words made the air catch in your lungs.

“You can’t change the fact your family has passed, and I need you to have a chance to grieve before we send you back onto the field.” To an average person, everything she was saying made sense. But the issue was, you didn’t want to pause and take the time to process what happened. You wanted to swallow it all and move on to whatever job would come next. But Natasha knew the dangers of that.

You took a deep breath, your gaze finding the floor. “I told you, Nat. I’m fine to go out onto the field. I’ve thought over everything and I feel ready.” You countered, eyes meeting hers as you really tried to convince her. She found your hand, gripping it tightly with both of hers.

“Then tell me exactly what he did to your parents.” Her words hit your chest like a boulder, all of the air you once had no longer existing as your breathing stopped. It was a test, and she knew you wouldn’t be able to answer without breaking down. And fortunately for her, it worked. Tears welled in your eyes, the flood of emotion hitting the wall you built in an attempt to avoid it. But it wasn’t strong enough this time, Natasha knew all the right buttons to push. You gave in, allowing each tear, each sob, to have a chance to see the light as you leaned into Natasha.

“That’s it.” She cooed, pulling you close into her shoulder. Her hands ran through your hair, offering a comforting touch you desperately missed. The person she loved dearly was slowly coming back, the agent who wasn’t just a stone-cold face ready to suppress all emotion in the name of work. Being an Avenger wasn’t just about being brave for others, it was about being your best self so you were capable of offering that support on the field. The entire time, you missed the true meaning of the hiatus.

But now, you were back on track. Natasha was glad to see you finally start the long road to processing your grief, and she’d be there the entire journey. You were grateful to have her, and suddenly even more grateful she gave you the time off in the first place. If you weren’t so naive and stubborn, maybe it would have been easier for you in the long run. But that didn’t matter, because with Natasha, time felt like it didn’t exist.

[jentlemahae]

-

[lilgynt]

so. bc we kept being put in a queue that we’re not trained for. that we’re not trained for bc of the widespread issue of this department pushing their work onto us and trying to snub that outright just by not training us. my company is making several of my coworkers come in on their day off for an eight hour training For that Department.

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 

[avis-writeshq]

01 — better than revenge

summary: “she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn warnings: fluff, angst with a happy ending, Lila is a real piece of work here, VERY CANON COMPLIANT, Spencer’s a bit of an ass :( wc: 10.4k a/n: special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading MWAH SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Hey kid, wheels up in thirty.” Derek nods towards you, dropping a case file on your desk. 

You raise an eyebrow, flicking open the case file to the first page. A small laugh of disbelief leaves your lips. “Ooh, Los Angeles, media capital of the world. What’s the occasion?”

“Three murders, all shot in the head executional style.” 

Your face falls into a grimace as you grab your go-bag and tuck the file under your arm, following the rest of the team to the jet. “Spence and Gideon are there already, right? Talk about timing.”

Elle can’t help but grin at your words, slinking an arm over your shoulder. “Looks like you’ll see loverboy a lot sooner than you think.”

A shriek of betrayal leaves your lips as you throw her arm off of you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sure you don’t,” JJ all but cackles as she boards the plane, grinning the entire way. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” you grumble, dropping your things on one of the seats in the jet. “Seriously, I mean it. I know how to get away with murder.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow at you, his gaze that of a disappointed yet amused father. “Not the brightest thing to say while you’re in a room full of FBI agents.”

Elle lets out a ‘hah!’ as she sits across from you, crossing one leg over the other as she grins. “Get comfortable, buttercup, six hour flight and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Assholes.” You roll your eyes teasingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to your case files. “And it’s not like that.”

“Oh, of course not,” Elle snickers, “you’re just friends.”

You throw a pen at her and it bounces off her leg harmlessly. “I can smell the sarcasm.”

“You’ll be smelling more of it,” Derek laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sit tight, kid, we’re in for a long flight.”

Once everyone was settled and the jet was high in the air, the team began to look through the files with Garcia on speaker as usual. 

“First two victims, Wally Melman and Chloe Harris,” You recite dutifully, glancing over the grotesque crime scene images. “Seems like they were both killed in public places.”

“Chloe was killed while walking her dog on the beach in Santa Monica which she did every morning, and Wally was killed outside of a massage parlour,” JJ reiterates, sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand. 

“In Culver City,” Derek adds. 

“Which he went to every Tuesday,” Elle continues.

Derek looks to the rest of the team, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, if he knows their schedules, maybe that means he follows his victims for a while.”

“And not a single witness. So we know this UnSub can blend in,” Hotch mutters. “Regardless of the location, he has the ability to hide in plain sight.”

“So, he’s meticulous.” Elle nods, her eyes drifting from Hotch to the case file. 

“The media is calling Natalie Ryan’s murder the biggest celebrity homicide since Sharon Tate,” JJ adds, looking through the images of the newspaper clippings that were sent to her laptop.

“Great,” You muse, although frustration is clear in your voice. “What does that mean for us?”

Hotch lets out a sigh. “That everybody will be watching.”

***

“This guy is an assassin?” Detective Kim asks with disbelief as the rest of the team reiterates their thoughts once they were in the police department. 

“When you look at the victimology, there’s no obvious links,” Morgan points out. “All the kills were clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair as you reference the case files. “There’s absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene. Labs have found zero DNA, no manifestation of psychosexual release, and from what we can tell there’s no detectable signature of any kind. These kills are straight forward, almost like he’s on a mission.”

“Remember, our profiles are formulated not just by what’s present at the scene but also what’s absent,” Gideon says to Detective Kim.

“From all the evidence that we’ve gathered, we believe you’re looking for a Type Four Assassin,” Elle explains.

“Type Four?” 

Spencer immediately jumps in to explain, gesticulating throughout his explanation. “Type One’s are political assassins like John Wilkes Booth. Type Two’s are egocentrics looking for simple recognition.”

“Type Three’s are psychopaths,” Hotch continues, “cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes. Type Four, our UnSub, suffers from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional.”

“The closer we come to figuring out that delusion, the closer we’ll get to finding the UnSub,” Reid points out. 

Everyone is left to their own thoughts and you look over to Spencer, a soft grin on your face. “How was your father-son bonding time?”

Spencer gives you a pointed look, but a soft laugh leaves his lips. “It was… fine.”

“Fine? Out of everyone on the team, Gideon chose you to present a talk about behavioural analysis and profiling to the LAPD. You love conferences. C’mon, give me something!” You nudge his shoulder gently. 

“We uh.. we went to an art gallery the other day. We met a movie star, so that was cool…” his cheeks are dusted with a soft pink as he talks and your curiosity only increases. 

“A movie star, huh? Look at you, mingling with the high and mighty.” You poke his cheek with a laugh. “Tell me about them.”

He flushes at the contact, clearing his throat. “Um… her name is Lila Archer. Have you heard of her? She’s–”

“Reid, (L/N), we’re meeting with someone,” Derek cuts in, nodding towards the both of you.

You blink in confusion as you follow him to another room. “Suspect?”

“Someone received a note,” Derek says quickly, glancing over at the note in Elle’s hands. “On a newspaper clipping of the latest murder.”

“Lila?”

A blonde woman was sitting in the next room over, her legs crossed over as she waits. Her eyes light up in recognition and she stands up. You can’t help but be impressed as you give her a quick once over. She’s gorgeous, exactly what you expect from a famous movie star. 

“I’m Agent (L/N),” You say gently, moving from your spot next to Spencer and holding your hand out. “This is Agent Morgan and I’m assuming you already know Doctor Reid. I understand that you received a note this morning?”

She wearily shakes your hand, her blue eyes flitting between you and Reid. “Yeah.”

“We just have a few questions to ask. We know that these things are sensitive, but we promise we’ll try to make the situation as easy as possible for you.” You shoot her a kind smile, excusing her weariness for fear or anxiety. “Is that alright?”

“Sure.” She respond curtly, shooting a smile towards Spencer before walking past you.

“Uh… okay?” You let out a little laugh in confusion and Derek raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that about?” He asks, frowning.

You shrug your shoulders, watching as Spencer leads her to an empty desk. “Trust me, I have no idea. Maybe she’s just nervous and wants to talk to a familiar face.”

Derek hums in thought. “Maybe. But usually victims like this are more willing to speak to someone of the same gender. It’s strange that she was so direct to you.”

“She’s been through a traumatic experience. If I got a newspaper clipping with a message written in blood, I probably wouldn’t be too thrilled meeting new people either,” You defend, pursing your lips. “She’s probably just… scared, right?”

He doesn’t respond, moving to follow Spencer and Lila further into the police department. A few questions were asks about her relationship with the other victims, only to find that she was in fact the connection between the other victims. Wally Melman was a producer who Lila met with a few times to discuss a role, only for him to cast Natalie Ryan instead. Chloe Harris looked an awful lot like Lila, so it was likely that the UnSub got rid of her in order to ‘ice-out’ the competition. 

“(L/N), may I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asks quickly, waving you over. 

You blink in confusion but nod, walking over to where he stands by the desk. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I want you to try and get as much information from Lila as possible.” He gestures to where Lila sits in one of the victim waiting rooms. “This is your area of expertise. Try and find out if there’s any distinct information that she’s given to anyone so that we can track the UnSub.”

“Got it.” You offer a smile, fixing your shirt as you agree. “I’ll update you if I get any new information.”

You make your way over to where Lila was sitting, trying to look as friendly as possible. “Hey, Lila. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

She glances over you for a second, looking you up and down before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Where’s Spencer?”

Your brows furrow at his words. “Doctor Reid…? He’s currently going through the timeline of events with our colleagues. In the meantime, I was hoping to ask a few questions, maybe shed some light on the entire situation.”

She raises an eyebrow before nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright…” you clear your throat, taking a seat across from her. “You mentioned that you receive a bowl of red anemones on the seventh of every month. Do you mind… telling me why you like those flowers so much?”

She shrugs dismissively, running a hand through her blonde hair. “They’re pretty. I like the colour.”

You nod slowly, writing that down in your notes. “Well that’s understandable; they’re very beautiful flowers. But they’re a little uncommon as a favourite flower, don’t you think? If you like the colour, a more common favourite flower would be poppies or roses… are you sure there isn’t another reason? The meaning behind red anemones is forsaken love and death… does that intrigue you at all?”

She scoffs, “are you trying to accuse me of something?”

“Not at all,” you say quickly, “I apologise if it comes off that way. I’m just trying to find out as much as possible about the entire situation. For all we know, those flowers could have been sent by the UnSub.”

A short silence lulls in the room as well as an awkward tension. So, you try to take things from another angle. 

“I love hydrangeas,” you say gently, a small smile on your lips. “I like the way they’re always bunched together and the colours are beautiful. Only a few people know that I like them though. My close friend and colleagues, my family… do you remember telling anyone about your favourite flower?”

She’s quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Your face falls and you press a little more. “Are you sure you don’t remember? Maybe… maybe your manager, or a friend of yours?”

“I said ‘I don’t know’, okay?” She snaps, her hands balling into fists as she glares at you. “God, it’s not that hard to understand.”

You lean back in your chair, your gaze hardening. “I understand that this is difficult for you, but any information–”

“I don’t have any information!” Lila huffs, her hands placed in her lap. “Are you stupid or something?”

“The likelihood of these people being murdered because of you is incredibly high,” You say sharply, shutting your notebook. “If you’re withholding information from us it could prove detrimental to the investigation. I’m only trying to do my job. Asking you questions is part of my job.”

Her lips twitch at your words and she scowls. “I already told you I don’t remember.”

“Not remembering and not knowing are two different things, Ms Archer.” You place your card on the table. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

You get up from your seat, heading to the door, only to see that it was wide open with Derek and Spencer standing at the doorway. In seconds, Lila’s gaze softens and she runs out of the room, sniffling as she does. Your gaze follows her as she runs out of the police station, a look of disbelief on your features.

“What the…”

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Spencer demands, a frown on his face. 

You gape at his words. “What are you–”

He cuts you off, running after Lila. Derek raises an eyebrow in their direction before turning to you. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” Derek asks gently, patting your shoulder. 

“Honestly? I have no idea,” You confess quietly, biting your lip. “I’ve never seen him get so…”

“Upset? Angry?” he finishes, a small laugh leaving his lips. “You and me both. Look, kid, it’s not your fault. She was clearly being dismissive of your questions and she needed a reality check.”

“It’s not like I’ve never spoken that way when interrogating someone before,” You point out, brows furrowed in frustration. “Even then, Spencer has never had an issue with it. I just– I don’t understand what’s got him so worked up.”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “You’re a profiler. Isn’t it obvious?”

You pause for a moment, thinking through their interaction. “He has a crush on her, doesn’t he? He likes her. Of course he does. Brilliant, now he’s involved.”

Derek pats you on the back sympathetically. “Come on, pretty girl. We’ve got a job to do.”

***

Despite your original hesitancy, Hotch asked you personally to go with the others, meaning that you had no right to refuse. Well, you could, but that would mean throwing Elle under the bus and she would be much more helpful at the precinct than on set. So, before you could fake being sick and bail the investigation, you,  Derek, and Spencer went to check out the set of Lila’s movie, hoping to better observe her interactions with her costars and the staff. 

The inside of Lila’s small trailer is hot. Incredibly hot but relatively empty. As you look around, you gather that she’s either a minimalist or just didn’t have to spend a lot time in the trailer at all. Lila sits in front of the little group, wearing a robe to cover her costume: a cyan sequinned bikini set that she looked absolutely criminal in. Her hair has been styled in a classic blowout and you wonder how much time it took to get it to look so effortless.

“I’m not stopping my life,” she says, her voice almost stern as she steps out of the trailer and back onto the set.

You purse your lips as you glance at the paper in the plastic pocket, now labelled as ‘evidence’. Apparently it was taped up to the door of her trailer. Your eyes shift to Spencer who’s gaze doesn’t leave the door that Lila just walked out of for much longer than necessary. Neither of you have spoken since yesterday’s incident.

You hum thoughtfully, as you pull out your notebook, glancing at the notes you’ve been making. “Well, I guess the only thing we can do is talk to the people on set. Maybe they saw something. I’ll see if I can find out who has access to Lila’s trailer.”

Spencer nods in your direction. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good idea.”

One of your eyebrows quirk up. “Okay…? Why do you sound so surprised?”

He flushes under your scrutiny, clearing his throat as the three of you begin to walk out of the trailer and towards the set. “I’m not! I– I’m not surprised. You’re good at your job.”

“You didn’t seem to think that yesterday,” You respond lightly, your tone petty and passive aggressive, gaze flickering between the cameras and lights on set. 

Derek coughs awkwardly before excusing himself and entering further into the set leaving you and Spencer alone outside by a vending machine. Spencer falters at your words and he runs a hand through his hair. The harsh Los Angeles sun beats down against your skin and you fiddle with the notebook in your hands. In turn, he fixes up his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbow, giving you a clear view of his forearms and large hands. 

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t– I was out of line.”

“You were,” You agree, your gaze shifting between the chilled bottled drinks in the vending machine and him. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

A boyish grin grows on his face and he nods, pulling out his wallet. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, awesome. Iced coffee?”

“You know me so well,” you respond with an equally large smile, poking his cheek. “Thank you!”

He presses a few buttons, grabbing a Cola for himself. You can’t help but laugh, giving him a pointed look. He quickly moves to defend himself, “It’s a hot day, okay? An exception.”

“An exception,” You repeat, trying to hide your smile as you crack open the lid of your drink and take a sip. “What happened to ‘Cola has 50 grams of sugar in it. That’s the equivalent of eating two full bars of milk chocolate’?”

He pouts at your words, opening his drink and you watch as a few bubbles rise to the top of the bottle. He takes a swig of his drink, sighing in content. “Shut up.”

You laugh again once you officially enter the set, nudging Spencer with your arm teasingly. He nudges you back, rolling his eyes and poking your cheek. You retaliate by doing the same, swinging your drink as you walk. 

Before you could do or say anything else, Derek taps your shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to cross reference answers,” Derek dismisses. 

“Let me pull up my list,” You respond helpfully, grabbing your notebook. “Hey, Spence, do you mind canvassing the rest of the crew? See if anyone pays any special attention on Lila?”

He nods at your words, moving towards Lila, sipping on his drink. In the meantime, you turn towards Derek, a curious look on your face. 

“Little Miss Madonna has been glaring at you since the moment you entered the set,” Morgan says quietly, his gaze flitting to where Lila was making coffee. 

You practically snap your neck as you look up in her direction, watching as she quickly fumbles to make herself a cup of something. You turn away and you could practically feel her gaze burning against your scalp. A frown makes its way onto your face and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You glance over to where she and Spencer were talking, blanching when you watch as she takes a swig of his Cola.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You hear her ask as she drinks and Spencer hurriedly shakes his head.

A quiet scoff leaves your lips and Derek nudges you with a look that reads ‘behave.’ You lift your hands in surrender and follow him over to where Spencer now stands by himself, Lila gone to talk to some other staff member.

“An exception, huh?” You ask Spencer, referring to his aversion to germs and sharing food. Your tone is mostly teasing despite the underlying bitterness beneath it. 

“Shut up.” He mutters quietly, cheeks hot from embarrassment of being caught.

Derek snorts, clapping his shoulder before moving on.

***

The next day, you were going over the evidence that was provided by the LAPD. Considering that it was a relatively young case, there weren’t copious amounts of evidence, meaning that there were still untied strings to go through. The entire situation proved more difficult than necessary; no one seemed to notice anything  amiss when it came to Lila and her relationships, and considering that the actress wasn’t very forthcoming with the information she knew, you were hitting dead-end after dead-end. 

Although geographical profiling was more of Spencer’s expertise than yours, you figured it wouldn’t do anyone harm by triangulating the previous three murders. He was standing beside you, his presence not unwelcome as he guides you step by step on how to plot an understandable and accurate profile. Hotch had asked him to coach you through the entire situation and explain his point of view, as well as his thought process when it came to geographical profiling. With a comfort zone now clearly expressed, you were discussing probable suspects on the phone with Garcia.

“Will Hunter… currently the town hermit, previous criminal record of armed battery and robbery,” Garcia recites, and you pull up his file.

“Mm… maybe? No, I don’t think so. His crimes don’t match the UnSub’s profile. He seems to be messier, uh, tending to use bats and knives than a clean shot to the head. And the profile suggests that the UnSub is able to blend in with the crowd.” You hum in thought, turning to Spencer.

“Hermits like Will Hunter wouldn’t be able to do that,” He explains to Garcia, putting his file into the ‘unlikely’ folder.

Garcia sighs in frustration and you can hear her furiously type away on her computer. “How about–”

“Hold that thought,” Elle says quickly, cutting Penelope off apologetically. “(Y/N), did you know Lila’s here?”

You blink in confusion, slowly shaking your head no. “She’s here? I didn’t get any calls from her.”

Elle shrugs at your words. “She looks like she’s going to burn a hole through your head.”

Your brows furrow and your gaze shifts to the blonde woman through the office window. She has her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her face, before her cheeks burn in embarrassment of being caught. Spencer follows your gaze, his face lighting up at the sight of the actress. It’s almost as if he has selective hearing when it comes to his celebrity crush, clearly not hearing the part where Elle points out that Lila has been glaring at you the entire time.

“Can we talk outside?” You ask Elle quickly, getting up from your seat, not taking no for an answer.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something before he shuts it, watching as you drag your other co-worker out of the room. Your attention shifts between Lila and Elle, your brows furrowing. 

“What is it?” You ask, your back turned towards the actress. “Why is she here?”

“She gave me a list of people who know what her favourite flower is,” Elle says quietly.

Your ears go red at her words, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Excuse me?”

“She called me yesterday,” she explains, handing you the list of people. “She said that she remembers who they were and came in today to give me a list of people.”

You scoff in disbelief, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I gave her my card.”

“She called and asked for me.” 

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so suddenly she can remember everything when she talks to you, but nothing when she talks to me? She’s not very slick.”

The door behind you opens, revealing Spencer who has been listening in the entire time. His jaw is clenched and a frown is etched upon his features as he looks at you accusingly. 

“Maybe she just didn’t remember,” he points out harshly as you and Elle re-enter the room.

An incredulous look makes its way into your face. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t remember, and now she does,” Spencer says, and from the corner of your eye you watch Elle slowly leave the room once more. The door closes with a soft click.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she went to Elle and not to me,” you respond, trying to keep your voice even and your words clear. You take a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down.

Spencer scowls at you. “Maybe she has every right to go to Elle after you snapped at her the first time you tried to talk to her.”

“Are you– are you being serious right now?” A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you glare up at him. “Look, Reid, I’m sorry that I’m not her biggest fan and that I don’t kiss the ground she walks on, but I was doing my job. A job that I believe I am quite good at. It’s not like speaking harshly is unheard of when it comes to the retrieval of information.”

He flinches when you call him by his last name but he stands his ground. “If you were so good at your job, you wouldn’t have to speak to her that way,” he argues, and you can see the vein in his forehead begin to protrude.

His words sting and bite you and suddenly you feel your resolve snapping. “You know what?” The words are slow and deliberate as they leave your lips, and you jab a finger against his chest. “I get that you have a crush on her and that you’re finally going through puberty but that does not mean that you can ignore the job you are currently on.”

He swallows thickly and he opens his mouth to retaliate but you push your finger against his chest once more.

“I am not finished.” Your voice is low with frustration and annoyance as you scowl, glaring up at him. “I don’t care who you’re attracted to or who you want to sleep with. I don’t give a damn if that someone is victim in the investigation because it’s not my problem. I do, however, have a problem when you undermine my ability to do my job and do nothing to fix it.

The worst part is the fact that you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be supportive and helpful and– and– and understanding.” Your mouth is moving quicker than your brain can register and you’re stumbling over your words as you snap at him. “I’m supposed to be able to go to you if I’m going through something. I should be able to talk to you if someone or something is bothering me, but now I’m just afraid that you’ll call me crazy and then criticise me all over again.”

His face falls and he looks at you like a kicked puppy as the words slowly sink in. He reaches out to you, his hazel eyes searching your face but the only emotion that you’re showing is anger. You push his hand away, the frown set on your eyebrows. It’s only then when you realise that Garcia has been listening into the conversation the entire time, your heart lurching to a stop when you hear her cough on the other side of the line.

“Um… is now a bad time to say that I didn’t get any other hits for the profile?” She asks tentatively through the speaker, and you feel your face burning.

“I need air,” you announce to no one in particular, before grabbing your files and storming out of the room.

Elle catches your arm on the way out, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “(Y/N)-“

“Hey. Sorry.” You bite your lip, loosening the grip you have on your papers. “Where’s Hotch?”

“With Derek and Gideon,” she says gently. “Lila got another note and we’re going to check on her manager. Do you want to come with?”

You exhale before nodding. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

“Okay.” She squeezes your arm gently, her eyes flitting between you and Spencer who was inside the conference room, pacing back and forth. “Is… everything alright?”

“Honestly? No.” You offer her a wry smile, shoving your files into your bag. “But it’s fine.”

She chuckles a little in disbelief, leading you to the black SUVs outside. Derek and Gideon were already there, waiting patiently for the two of you while Hotch has already left in another SUV. Apparently the ‘no profiling each other’ rule was thrown out the window as soon as they saw the state you were in, and Derek quickly makes his way over to you.

“(Y/N), are you–”

“I’m fine,” you snap, before closing your eyes tightly and letting out a deep breath. “Sorry, Morgan. I’m okay, just had an argument with Reid.”

At that, his eyebrows shoot upwards. “Since when did you call him ‘Reid’? And what do you mean you had a fight with him? He literally can’t say no to you.”

“Yeah, that was before a Miss Archer walked into the room,” you mutter bitterly. “Shot a literal arrow through his heart. She put her name to good use. I never stood a chance.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Elle says, climbing into the SUV. You follow closely behind and she continues. “He’s just confused right now.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I really doubt that.”

Gideon starts the car, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “You’re a profiler. What do you really think?”

The words die at your tongue and you deflate into the seat of the car. You hate to admit it, but Gideon is right. You should be able to figure out exactly what Spencer is thinking. After all, he’s your best friend– you shouldn’t have to be worrying about guessing games when it comes to him.

Hotch is the first to arrive at the manager’s office, watching as your group pull up in front of the building. Once everyone clambours out of the car, they enter the building, a sigh of relief leaving them as they enjoy the air conditioned lobby. With a flash of a badge, the receptionist is quick to tell you which floor and room number Michael was in.

“Floor 11, Room 03,” you mumble to yourself as you scribble it down in your notes.

The elevator ride is silent and you rock back and forth on your feet as the lift begins to rise. Your head is spinning with thoughts and regrets as you consider the harsh words that you spat at Spencer’s face less than an hour ago. You must not have been hiding your frustration well because Hotch finally says something. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, much like a father would when their child is having a tantrum. It’s fitting.

You shrug. “I will be.”

“Is it to do with Reid?” 

You cough awkwardly, glancing back at the notes in your hand. “That obvious?”

Derek snorts from behind you. “Yeah, a little.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with him,” Elle adds, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I am– I am not in love with him!” You all but shriek, shooting her a half hearted glare and you stutter out a response. “I mean, I– uh– I like him but–“

“You are a horrible liar,” Derek cackles and you groan. 

Hotch and Gideon watch amused at the interaction, and the latter finally pipes in.

“Profiling isn’t something you can just turn off,” he explains to you, his tone gentle. He reminds you of a grandfather giving advice to their youngest grandchild, and a small smile makes its way onto your face. He continues to speak, “it’s subconscious and it becomes a habit. The only time it stops is when you either need it most, or when you don’t want to see anything.”

The elevator comes to a stop on the eleventh floor and Michael’s office wasn’t far away. The writing on the frosted glass reads ‘1103, Michael Ryer & associates, talent management’ and Elle raps on the door.

“Hello?” 

“Mr Ryer?” Gideon calls.

She knocks a few times again before opening the door entirely. “Michael–”

You’re met with Michael Ryer, dead in his arm chair and shot to the head, just like all the other victims. Despite having faced these circumstances before, you still feel sick to the stomach as you stare at Michael’s lifeless body and soulless eyes. It’s unnerving.

“Up until now every victim was a person who could be perceived as a threat to Miss Archer,” Hotch comments as they enter the room, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, but Michael was a friend,” Elle says with a frown.

You look up from your notes. “He was a threat to the stalker.”

In less than twenty minutes, the LAPD dispatched forensics and evidence teams to the office. Lila and Spencer were on their way back to her house, deciding that it was best to deny the stalker access to her. You rifle through Michael’s belongings: his schedules, his files… everything until you come to one particular manila envelope. 

“Morgan, Elle, look at this,” you murmur, pulling the photos out of the envelope. “Pictures of Lila… nude.”

A flash of a grimace passes along Elle’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. “He was probably paying someone to keep them out of the press.”

“The name on the file says Joe Martinez,” Derek mutters, turning the envelope over.

The name must have struck a chord, because Detective Kim’s head immediately snaps around to look at you. “Paparazzo?”

You blink. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, I deal with him a lot,” Kim responds, his face stoic. 

“We should follow that lead,” You comment, tucking the photos back in the envelope and looking over at Detective Kim and Derek. “I’m ready to go when you are?”

After an okay from Hotch, you, Derek, and Detective Kim make your way over to the Joe Martinez’s place. After knocking on the door to his place multiple times, Derek decides to open it in the way he knows best: by kicking it down. You grip your gun, holding it out in front of you as you travel through the hallways. 

“Clear!” You yell out upon pushing another door open, seeing nobody inside.

“(Y/N), you need to check this out,” comes Morgan’s call, and you follow the direction of his voice

Pinned above a small desk are picture upon pictures of Lila Archer. When she has lunch, when she’s out with her friends… it’s almost as if this person has completely documented her life. It’s a little nerve wracking, knowing that someone could follow you and take photos without anyone even realising.

“Hey is that–” you pause, pulling a piece of paper off the wall. “This is Lila’s schedule.”

Derek blinks in surprise. “I’m guessing he’s not supposed to have that?”

“No,” Detective Kim responds, and your gaze shifts to the table.

“Hey, isn’t that–” you feel your heart practically stop as you see who’s in the photos. 

“That’s Reid,” Derek mutters.

Kim shifts through the photos. “There’s a whole bunch of them,” he says, pulling out at least five or six print outs. “Is he a target now?”

Derek scoffs, throwing the photos on the table and pulling out his phone, making a beeline for the exit. “Not if I can help it.”

You and Detective Kim follow him out, making your way to the SUV. 

“Reid? Hey, it’s Morgan. Listen, you gotta watch your back over there, we just found a bunch of close-up photos of you at this guy Joseph Martinez’s studio. It looks like he could be the UnSub.”

As he speaks you feel your heart pound in your ears. Your head is dizzy with fear and you’re following after Morgan who’s walking unbelievably quickly. 

“He has a ton of photos of Lila and Nathalie plus a call sheet for Lila’s show,” Derek continues, the speed of his walk not wavering. “(Y/N) and I are on our way right now but I need you to be real careful until we get there, all right?”

You look down to shove your notes back into your bag when you hear it. The distinct vrooming of a motorcycle engine. You don’t think too much of it, only turning your head to look over your shoulder, your hand finding the handle of the car door. That’s all it takes for the motorcyclist to drive straight toward you and the others, pointing an arm out.

“Gun!” You manage to scream, just before the UnSub open fires, hitting Detective Kim. 

You dive behind the car, grimacing when your knee collided roughly against the pavement. By the time you manage to recover and grab your gun out of its holster, the UnSub is long gone. You stare as Morgan fires a couple shots before watching the motorcyclist ride off into the LA traffic,  and you turn to Detective Kim.

“You got hit. Where?” You ask, shoving your gun back into its holster.

He grunts in pain, his entire weight on the car as he groans out, “yeah, it’s fine. Just my shoulder.”

“Derek, call for help,” you order, pressing firmly at the wound with your hand to lessen the bleeding. He lets out a cry of pain and you wince. “Sorry, it’s bleeding a lot. Gunshot wound to the shoulder, no exit wound. Seeing as you’re not already dead, I don’t think it hit any major arteries, but it might have busted your collarbone. You’re lucky if that’s the extent of the damage. The shoulder contains a bunch of important and major bloodlines, as well as nerve endings.”

Derek turns to you with a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“You spend four years with him, you’ll start to learn a few things,” you respond with a humourless laugh. You continue to press against Detective Kim’s wound, murmuring an apology. 

“You should talk to him,” Derek prompts.

You scoff, “we have a detective bleeding in front of us and the thing you’re worried about is my love life?”

“Isn’t the first rule of relieving pain through distraction?” He asks. You shoot him an unimpressed look and he quickly nods his head. “Okay, sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Detective Kim is hoisted into the ambulance. You cringe as you wash his blood off your hands, once, twice, then a third time to make sure everything is gone. Your shirt has a couple of blood spots and you can’t help but frown; you liked that shirt. At least the stain isn’t too big– just a few splotches here and there. 

“It’s a good thing you held the wound,” an EMT praises, working quickly to secure Kim’s shoulder. “He shattered his collarbone, but you seemed to have managed to control the bleeding.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have shouted a clear ‘I told you so’ to both Derek and Detective Kim, but you keep your mouth shut.

Hotch, Gideon, and Elle arrive moments later, speaking to Derek about the detective’s injuries. 

“You okay?” Elle asks gently, squeezing your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, wringing your hands together. “Just a little jumpy. I’ll be fine.”

“We need to get to her house,” Gideon mutters, glancing at the group. 

Without another moment to lose, you’re clambering into an SUV, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. Elle climbs into the passenger seat beside you, her brows knitted together in concern. She opens her mouth to say something but shuts it, watching as you start the car and speed off into the direction of Lila’s house. 

After slamming the door shut and gripping the gun firmly in the palm of your hand, you follow Derek through the back entry of the house. You weren’t even sure if it could even be counted as a ‘house’; the place looked like it had at least five bedrooms on both floors. Derek glances at you, signalling to be quiet, then another to keep your eyes on him. A quiet splashing in the pool alerts your attention, and despite his attempts of getting you to not look, you do. And as soon as you do, you really wish you hadn’t. 

You are met with the sight of Lila Archer in her bikini-clad glory, in the pool with Doctor Spencer Walter Reid. Doctor ‘pools are incredibly unhygienic, harbouring more than 50 million different types of bacteria’ Reid. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, you watch as their lips touch again and again, his hands cupping her face and her hands arms around his neck. 

Spencer pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy and his head spinning. This is wrong. He’s not supposed to being do this. His brain is short circuiting and it’s even worse when he considers all the germs that could be in this pool. His head spins with the names of viruses and bacteria that could be festering in the waters he was currently in, and then he remembers he has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely the girl who was literally pressing her lips to his. 

He pulls away, stammering over responses. “We can’t– we shouldn’t. I’m a federal agent and you’re–”

Lila stares at him, amused, with her hands cupping his neck. “There’s no one here.”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Spencer tries again, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. This is wrong. Unprofessional. Then his mind wanders to you and the nagging voice in the back of his mind urges him to do something. 

“There are police out front,” Lila says, kissing him again before continuing, “there are coyotes out back.”

“This is completely inappropriate,” Spencer stutters out, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Her skin is cold from the summer night’s breeze, even more so considering how they’re submerged in disgusting chlorine-filled pool water. 

“This?” She presses her lips to his once more. “What’s this?”

“This isn’t–” he swallows thickly, his cheeks flared. “No, there’s this thing called transference–”

Lila pulls away, her stare drifting from his eyes to his lips as she asks, “you don’t like me?”

Spencer blanches at the question. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” Lila repeats, more sure of herself now. “It’s because of her, right?”

He frowns at the insinuation. “‘Her’? Who’s ‘her’?”

“The other person on your team,” Lila says, her words bitter. “You like her don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry and he opens and closes it like a fish out of water. “What?”

“Let me change your mind,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his for the nth time. 

Spencer barely has time to react, his hands moving to the side of her face and he imagines that she’s you. But she’s not you and you would never kiss him in the middle of the pool. You would never pull him in by his tie and cut him off when he’s speaking. He pulls away. 

“Stop. Stop, Lila, I’m sorry, I have to– I have to tell you something.” His mind is blanking. Why is it that when he needs it, his brain shuts off?

“What?” Lila asks, her lips moving to his cheek and then to his jaw. 

“I didn’t want to tell you this before because I was a bit worried.” He’s screaming at himself in his head, kicking himself because ‘why the hell did he just say that?!’ Regardless of the way he wishes he could shut his mouth and run out of the pool, he continues, “I don’t know how to say it but I can’t not tell you.”

“What is it?” She finally pulls away and Spencer lets out a breath of relief.

The relief is short lived because he starts to blab, “Your manager, Michael–”

“What?”

“Gideon went to check on him but he got there too late.” Spencer thinks he’s going to hurl, his mind running a million times an hour and screaming, ‘No you idiot! No, no, no! Out of all the things you could say–’

Lila scrambles out of the pool, clearly distraught, and he reaches out to touch her arm… only to be swatted away with her sobbing and telling him not to touch her. He figures he deserves that and follows out of the pool after her. 

“How could you– how could you not tell me?” Lila demands, her tears mixing with the pool water already on her face. 

“I was afraid you’d be upset,” Spencer says lamely, water dripping from his trousers and he just wants a towel. 

“You– you knew what you knew and… how could you not…?” She’s on the verge of hyperventilating and she looks at him before looking away. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Lila retreats into her house, shutting the glass sliding door behind her and Spencer can only watch as she throws a pillow at the wall before going up the stairs to her room. He stands there, in the cold, dripping wet from the pool water and he wipes his face with his hand. His gun sits on the table, damp, and he has the urge to scream. Before he could do something exceedingly stupid, the sound of footsteps alert him and he spins around. 

“Elle?”

“We found him in the bushes,” she says to Spencer, nodding to the guy being cuffed by Derek. 

“I told her she should cut those.” He says dismissively, wiping his gun with a towel. He looks at her and then at you. He swallows thickly, noticing the way your eyes look him up and down, the disapproval oozing in your stare. “I– uh– I fell in.”

“Yeah,” you respond, holding the camera up and a sarcastic smile blossoms on your face. “I’m sure there are plenty of photos of it.”

He sighs, “(Y/N)–”

“Hey, stop shoving me, man!” Joe snaps as Derek pushes him to walk forward.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Wally Melman, Natalie Ryan, and Jeremy Collins.”

You watch as Joe’s face comically contorts from annoyance to confusion as he jumps to defend himself. “Murder? What? Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

“Just shut up with the ‘whoa’. We know for a fact that you have hundreds of photographs of Lila Archer and Natalie Ryan on the walls of your studio. You have Miss Archer’s daily schedule on your desk. You’ve been stalking her.”

“Look, guy, hold up. Every paparazzi’s a celebrity stalker,” Joe says and the rest of the group turn to look at him incredulously. He continues to speak undeterred. “If you don’t stalk them, you don’t get the shot, and if you don’t get the shot, you don’t sell no pictures.”

“Yeah, well this one’s gonna cost you,” you hum, holding the camera in your hands and ripping the film out despite his yells of defiance.

Derek steps forward, pushing Joe to keep him walking. “Tell it to your lawyer.”

“Wh– I’m still being locked up?”

“That’s right, at the very least you’re trespassing.”

Elle and Derek walk Joe out of the premises, and you push the pulverised film against Spencer’s chest. He grips it in his hands, a soft ‘oof’ leaving his lips at the contact. 

“You’re welcome,” you mutter, albeit a little bitterly, as you turn to follow the rest of your team out.

“(Y/N), listen, it didn’t mean anything,” he says softly, squeezing the film in his fist tightly while the other hand reaches out to you. 

You roll your eyes, opening up the sliding door. “I told you, Reid, I don’t care who you sleep with.”

He splutters a little, pushing his hair away from his face. “We didn’t– I didn’t– we didn’t sleep together, you know that.”

“Even more reason why I shouldn’t care.”

His hand grips onto your shoulder, turning you around so that you’re facing him. “But you do. ‘Shouldn’t’? You care. You clearly obviously care, (Y/N).”

“I don’t,” you deny, pushing his hand away. “Reid–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“–it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

He grabs onto your arm, stopping your retreat. “Why are you being like this?”

“I am not ‘being like’ anything!”

“(Y/N).”

“Doctor, this is highly unprofessional.”

He has to stop the frustrated groan that was moments away from leaving his lips as he stares at you. His eyes ghost over your frame, stopping directly at the dark red splotches on your shirt.

“What happened?” He demands, taking a step closer. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Who’s blood is that?”

“Detective Kim’s.”

“What– were you shot at?” 

His hands fly to your face, trembling and cold, and you would have thought it was romantic if he didn’t do the exact same thing less than twenty minutes ago with another girl. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss quietly. 

“Don’t say that.”

“God, you act as if we’re dating or something!” You snap, pulling away from him. 

He stops short, his cheeks and ears reddening at your words. His mind goes blank and suddenly he feels very warm at the idea. Dating you? Every moment he had with Lila in that pool is nothing compared to the idea of dating you.

He watches as you roll your eyes before tugging your arm out of his grip. He wants to cry out again, to say something, but his head just seems to repeat the words ‘we’re dating’ over and over again. 

“Just forget it, Reid.” You look to the house and your gaze grows steely once more. “Your girlfriend is calling.”

*** 

“I want to try and talk to some of Lila’s close friends,” you say to the others after getting off the phone with Garcia. “According to Penelope, there’s a girl named Maggie Lowe on the list that Lila gave us and they’ve known each other since college. Apparently, they spent a lot of time together and Lila helped her get a job.”

“I’ll go with you,” Elle says instantly, climbing into the car. “Why Maggie?”

You start the ignition, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road, following the GPS directions. “They spend almost all of their time together. I mean, she must have noticed something off, you know?”

Elle nods slowly in understanding. “She knows about the red anemones, right?”

“Yeah. And she was the one who found the note taped to the door.” You pause, thinking through the evidence again. “Her apartment is right in the middle of the comfort zone.”

“You think she could be the UnSub?”

“It all seems too convenient. But then again, we didn’t profile the stalker as a woman. There have got to be some inaccuracies or things we overlooked because of the gender,” you murmur, stopping at a red light. “Call Garcia for me.”

The phone rings once before Penelope’s unmistakable voice chimes through. “Speak my pretties, and you shall be heard!”

“Hey, Pen, can you check what vehicle is registered under Maggie Lowe’s name?” You ask into the speaker, parking in front of the apartment.

“Checking, checking… aha! It’s a Honda Motorcycle, she just got it serviced six and a half months ago.”

“That’s the vehicle that the UnSub was driving when they shot at us,” you mumble in realisation. “Call the others, the UnSub might be Maggie Lowe. We’re checking the apartment now.”

“Gideon and Derek are at the art gallery to talk to Parker Dunley,” Elle points out. “I’ll let them know we’re at her apartment.”

There’s a typing on the other side of the line and Penelope chimes in once more. “Bad news, my loves. The cameras report Lowe’s motorcycle leaving the apartment complex half an hour ago.”

“Garcia, call Reid and tell him what we know. Elle and I are going into the apartment. We might find evidence or clues on who the next victim might be.” 

With that, you hang up, getting out of the car and running up the stairs with Elle hot on your heels. 

“Maggie Lowe?” You call through the door, knocking once then twice. 

You’re met with silence and you grimace, deciding to do Derek’s favourite move: kicking the door down. With a crash, the door slams open and you grip your gun a little tighter in your hand. Bathroom, clear. Kitchen and pantry, clear. Lounge, clear. Bedroom, clear– you stop short. Pictures– framed pictures– of Lila hung around the wall. A cork board with newspaper clipping and magazine cut outs were pinned meticulously to the cork backing, each one with Lila’s face and name circled with bold red marker. 

“Holy shit…” Elle whispers, holstering her gun and staring at the wall. “This is… this is beyond obsession.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond, putting on a blue glove and flipping through the cork board. “Call the others, Maggie is definitely the UnSub. Someone this obsessed must have…” you pause, filing through the desk on the other side of the room, “… a diary. Each murder was described to detail in each entry, as well as her feelings towards Lila.”

Elle grimaces as she looks over your shoulder to read the diary entries. “Grim.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Above her desk are images of Lila. Every single show she’s been in since Julliard, every time she was mentioned in an article, posters, newspaper clippings of the murders… the entire ordeal makes you feel sick. 

Elle sucks in a breath, staring at the desk. “She’s got Lila’s entire life documented.”

“And she’s probably already at Lila’s house,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. “We need to get over there, now.”

*** 

“The city of angels everything you thought it would be?” Derek asks amusedly, leaning against the wall of the jet as he watches you pour your third cup of coffee in the past three hours. 

It’s a couple days after Maggie Lowe was apprehended and the team were on the jet home getting some much needed rest. The aircon was put on full blast and you couldn’t be more grateful for it, enjoying the coolness on your skin in contrast to the hot Los Angeles weather. 

“I’m never coming back here,” you quip, your gaze shifting to where Spencer sits. He’s reading a book but he hasn’t turned a page for the past thirty seconds. “If I were to overthrow America, Los Angeles is the first place to go.”

Derek snorts, his eyebrows raising. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you huff, finally looking at him. “I’m serious!”

“Sure kid. Totally believe you.”

He’s teasing, a knowing smirk on his face as he watches you chug the coffee with a grimace. Your tongue burns and you fill the cup with water and chug that as well, ignoring the amused look Derek keeps sending you. From the corner of your eye you see Spencer reading his book. At least, it would appear that he was reading to someone who didn’t know him. But you know him. He’s been staring into the pages for the past minute now and that alone was enough to let you know that he was paying more attention to your and Derek’s conversation than to the words on the page. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you sit beside Elle who is already fast asleep. You envy her for a moment as she leans against the plane window, blissfully unaware to your mental torment. Stupid Spencer and his stupidly pretty face. From where you’re sitting you can see the back of his head and you glare at that the ridiculous mop of brown on his head. 

The rest of the plane ride is uneventful and by the time you make it back to the office it’s already late. It’s nearing one in the morning and everyone begins to head home. Derek is yawning as he leaves the office and Elle has a look that screams ‘Don’t talk to me’. Gideon is long gone and Hotch was in his office, packing up the last of his papers and files. 

Spencer is sitting at his desk, combing through the paperwork and stashing a couple pages into his satchel. He bids farewell to Derek and the others before shoving his train pass into his pocket. 

“You’re taking the train?” You ask, finally speaking to him.

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he shifts on his feet, gripping the strap of his bag. “Um, yeah. I took the train here, so...”

“Oh.” You nod, glancing at the clock. “No you’re not.”

He huffs out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get onto a train at one in the morning,” you say, pointing with your chin to the elevator. “You might be a man and all, but it doesn’t change the statistics.”

You know his weakness. Statistics. Facts. Spencer hates the fact that you know him so well. 

He relents, getting into the elevator with you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

He hears you scoff, pressing B1 on the elevator. “Just because I’m mad at you, doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you do something potentially dangerous.”

He hates the way your words makes his heart flutter and he continues speak. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you did,” you respond curtly, watching as the elevator doors open. “Come on, my car is that way.”

Spencer flinches at your tone. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

“I–” the words die on his tongue as he wracks his brain. “I thought it was because you didn’t like Lila.”

“That’s true,” you murmur, unlocking the car. “Look, Reid–”

“Please,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking as he practically begs. “Please stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to him as you tug the car door open. “You want me to stop calling you by your name?”

Spencer’s nostrils flare as he gets in the car. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You laugh again as you start the engine, glancing at the mirrors. “Everyone calls you Reid. It shouldn’t be any different for me.”

He huffs. “But it is different. You’re… different.”

“How?” You challenge, backing out of the parking spot and getting onto the main road. You’ve memorised the route from Quantico to Spencer’s apartment in DC– an almost one hour drive and you understand why Spencer hates driving to and from work. 

He falters before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t call me by my last name again.”

“Spencer,” You try again, missing the visible relief in his eyes, “I’m not mad at you because of something as miniscule as a girl. You’re entitled to your own relationships outside of work.”

“I don’t under– oh.” The realisation dawns on him when he recalls all the words you threw at him at the precinct. “I wasn’t a very good friend, was I?”

“No, Spencer, you weren’t.” You don’t hesitate to say it and Spencer winces at how quickly you agree with him. “You were unfair and let your emotions get in the way of the case. You criticised me and undermined my authority and then you had the absolute nerve to act as if nothing was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, the lump in his throat getting bigger. 

“It hurt, Spencer,” you say, and your voice cracks as well. “It hurt because you’re my best friend and I would have supported you through everything. You know that. And I get that friends fight, but I thought that we wouldn’t fight about something as stupid as who you hook up with.”

“I didn’t hook up with her,” Spencer says quietly, and he thinks he might cry. “I’m serious, (Y/N), I didn’t hook up with her. She kissed me–”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your gaze shifts to him for barely a second before it’s back on the road. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to. I just didn’t think it would effect our friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says again, holding onto his bag. 

You’re quiet before continuing, “ I know you are. I know that. I’m sorry that you thought that you needed to justify your feelings to me.”

He swallows thickly, watching your face carefully. You didn’t do anything to make him feel like he had to justify himself. If anything, it was Spencer’s conscious that made him feel the need to explain himself. The guilt that he felt after kissing Lila was enough to get him to feel sick. The guilt that he felt after knowing how badly he hurt you was enough to make him want to grovel at your feet. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He mumbles, wetting his bottom lip. “You had– have– every right to be upset.”

“I don’t want to be upset anymore,” You say as you continue to drive down the freeway. 

He’s quiet before he finally says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and he presses the pads of his fingers into the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You finally park in front of his apartment, leaning against the chair. “I know. I know, I’m sorry too. I said… a lot of things.”

“I deserved it,” he says, a small laugh leaving his lips as he finally looks at you. “You’re right, I wasn’t being fair.”

You hum, leaning over the console to give him an awkward hug. He presses his nose into your shoulder, breathing in your vanilla perfume. His arms wrap around your middle and he realises how much he missed this. How he missed being close to you. 

“I won’t do it again,” he promises. 

“I know.”

“I really am sorry.”

“You need to stop apologising.” Your words come out like a laugh and he realises how much he misses that sound too.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says into your shoulder. “Coffees for a month. I’ll even get you those croissants you like, even though they’re really overpriced.”

You laugh again and he smiles. 

“You apologising is already good enough,” You say, squeezing his arms. “Now go get some rest, Spence.”

His smile widens at the nickname and he finally pulls away. “Good night. Thank you for driving me home.”

You smile back. “Good night. Don’t mention it.”

The next morning, you find a steaming coffee on your desk and a freshly baked croissant in a brown paper bag. Spencer waves at you and you can’t help the goofy grin on your face as you take a bite into the croissant. 

next part →

full work

reblogs are always appreciated!

[ellabscrush]

— play with my pussy, not my heart.

a/n; this has been an idea in my head for awhile but kept scrapping it, hopefully this is alr. btw my requests are opennn.

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw; smut, mdni, fingering, reader has a nervous habit that might triggering, dom!reader, flirting, language, slap kink once, arguing, abby is a dick here lol, trust issues, angst?? lmk if i missed any!!

sypnosis; your well known girlfriend who has a reputation of being a player finally decides to settle into a serious relationship with you. aware of your girlfriend’s past, abby’s project partner comes to intervene with your thoughts & worries. back and forth arguing isn’t going anywhere, you had to show her other ways on who not to mess with.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

“it’s just a small study sesh baby, nat even agreed to do it at our apartment!” abby walks towards you as she hovers over, “so no need to worry, ‘kay?”

she caresses your face and pecked your lips.

nat, aka natasha ferreira, is apart of western university’s dance team. you’ve seen her around before wearing white flowy skirts and layered jewelry. you once heard her talking about how her parents got a brand new bmw for her quinceañera.

i guess there was nothing to hate about her, other than the fact she is gorgeous and very talented with her dancing. this was just another one of your stupid overthinking.. right?

“okay abs.. thank you,” you gave her a soft smile.

“that’s my best girl.”

besides, trust was the thing you both had been working on these past months. dating abby was going to be a challenge. you knew it and your friends knew it. though they weren’t too supportive with her intentions at first, you were convinced abby could change her acts if she reallyy tried.

three knocks suddenly interrupted your little conversation. abby sprinted to the door and opens it to find a joyful figure in front of her.

nat gasps, “abby! this is my first time seeing you outside of uni,” she smiles with excitement.

abby smiled back and leaned for a hug, leaving you to stare at them with a lump of jealousy in your throat.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

one minute you were next to abby, and then the second the brunette is touching forearms besides her with those stupid doe eyes, glossed lips, and weirdly seductive black platform heels. god she’s annoying.

“your handwriting is shit!” the brunette teased, giggling as she leans to abby.

“yeah?” your girlfriend chuckles, “this is what you get for choosing me as your partner.”

nat shrugs, “well then i can deal with it.”

you tried so hard to not be bitter. really you did. but each time you glance at the two across the kitchen island, you swore the both of them were doing this shit on purpose.

sudden eye contacts with you everytime they laughed together, unrelated conversations, and some flirty remarks. oh, and not to mention the obvious footsies that was happening under the table. like you can literally see it.

“fuck me..” you muttered.

“what’s that princess?” abby asks you, the nickname made nat changed her demeanor quickly.

you turned back to meet nat’s eyes, then to abby, and back to nat.

“nothin’ love,” you put a convincing smile.

three hours long night full of giggling and jokes you didn’t even get later on.. you find yourself yelling back and forth in your shared bedroom with abby who literally couldn’t understand where you were coming from.

abby groans, “goddamnit we talked about this!”

“i never did anything to her, you were literally infront of us,” she raised her voice.

“abs, she deadass rubbed her foot on your leg multiple times and leaned to you everytime you both laughed..”you went on, getting more frustrated by the minute.

“well.. we’re just having a little fun, is that romantic to you?” abby asks with her hand crossed to her chest, her facial expression screams ‘you’re being crazy.’

you were exhausted trying to find ways to communicate without bringing up abby’s past, like you both agreed to. however, your concerns shouldn’t supposed to end in argument. you shook your head, letting out a long sigh and sat on the edge of the bed.

“i- i don’t know abby,” you stammered, “i guess it is romantic when they do the things i do to you.. since i am yours.”

you gazed down at your feet with teary eyes while unaware as you were digging your nails into your thighs. this was a nervous habit of yours in which you don’t realize you have been doing it for so long. your girlfriend, however, does.

she slowly walks closer to the edge of the bed and kneeled down to your eye level.

“you are mine.” her voice sounding more reassuring and softer like you could faint at that moment.

“i thought you could’ve been better for me..” you sniffled

abby panicks once she realizes you were crying, “baby no.. fuck i’m trying..”

“trying?” you looked up.

the blonde sighs, “will. i will be better.”

she moved your hands from your thighs with one hand, while other pushes your head closer to hers for a deep kiss. more so, a sloppy one. she wipes your cheeks and the kisses started from sweet, to mean in a heartbeat. abby stroked you waist, making you clench you thighs together.

abby smirks, “you turned on princess?” she asks and you just whimpered in response, “fuck.. i gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

knowing your girlfriend has plans tomorrow morning, this sparked an idea in your head. abby can become a submissive mess when you’re in charge. so you decide to show her other ways who not to play with, and whose pussy she can only play with!

“so?” you replied in between kisses, “don’t want me to scream your name tonight?”

.. besides, making her miss out a big free brunch with her friends the next day will be an added punishment you thought.

the blonde smiles and throws you to the middle of the bed, causing you to squeal from the unexpected move. abby aggressively pulls down your shorts and underwear. your wet slick was ready for her.

“look at you all ready for me,” she circles her thumb on your lips slowly, “gotta fuck that jealousy out quick or else i’ll be late tomorrow, princess.”

you smiled maliciously in response as you bite your lip. abby then shoves her two fingers inside your mouth, “open.”

she pumps her ring and middle finger in and out. being all soaked in your drool making it wet enough to fit in your pussy. the sounds of your whimpers made her go crazy. you shut your eyes feeling abby’s cold, drenched fingers sliding inside.

your body shuttered, “s-shit baby..”

the sounds of your wet pussy is practically making abby drool.

“feels so fuckin’ good, keep going,” you ordered keeping a strong eye contact with the blonde, “just like that..”

“that fucking pussy,” abby whispers, you licked your lips looking down at her fat fingers going in and out, “you needy whore,” she degrades.

her words were like fire and heaven at the same time. you wouldn’t be so pissed off at her if she hadn’t let nat be all over her for three hours straight. now it’s your job to remind her whose pussy she can fuck. and the only one.

you let out an airy laugh, “i’m the whore hm? atleast i wasn’t flirting with another bitch,” she looks up at your face. you were trying to keep your composure while being mercilessly fucked.

you sat yourself up with elbows on the mattress, “you proud of yourself huh?” just inches away from her stupid smirk.

“faster,” you demanded.

she curled her fingers inside of you, hitting your g spot like a pro. you can help but let out a moan and rocked your hips in rhythm. that smirk of hets turned to an amazed expression once she hears your juices sloshing around.

“fuck baby,” abby was practically drenched under her pjs wanting to taste you, “p-please need to taste you.”

“nuh uh, you’re being mean all day. you don’t, f-fuck, deserve me.”

abby was desperate just by hearing you speak like this. you’re such an angel around her normally, like when she first met you, you were different than the other girls she had met before. she fell for you. but damn that mouth of yours was killer in bed.

the rare times you controlled her was only when you were pissed off at your girlfriend for the amount of disrespectful flirting that was happening in front of you, or not giving you updates on what she’s doing with her girl friends. however, you can’t blame yourself for having mixed trust issues knowing how many girlfriends abby has had.

maybe you’ve been too patient with her? letting shit go so easily?

“shit- c’mere” you groaned and kissed her viciously at the thought of her fucking another girl. one hand around her neck while the other grips her loose hair.

“mmm, keep going..” you moaned in her mouth.

abby rubs your clit, feeling your juices squirting all over her thighs, “p-please baby.. lemme clean you up” she begs to lick your folds but you resisted.

you slapped her cheek, her needy face turning red.

“shut up,” you growled, “better stop messing around.. i deserve fuckin’ better.”

abby whimpers, putting her head back in frustration. she then looks down to see you, a dripping pussy drunk mess. her fingers were sticky and all tired. however, she’s not stopping until she screams your name.

“atleast say my name when you cum,” she pleaded, “please.”

her voice made you feel every type of way. your thighs starting to heat up, a familiar feeling as you have had fucked yourself with the thought of her in the past. pounding noises as you thrust your hips on to her fingers harder puts many heated scenes in your head.

“abby.. oh my god- m’ fucking cumming..”

“that’s my girl, ride daddy’s dick,” she encourages you.

an orgasm was washing over you, “abby you’re mine. fuck- ah-“ you burried your face in the crooks of her neck.

“all yours baby, i’m sorry.” she kissed all over your shoulder, genuinely feeling bad that she didn’t give you the reassurance you wanted earlier.

“abs- fuckfuckfuck,” you screamed out, screaming her name loud enough the apartment below could hear you, “i hate you so much..”

“i love you princess.. love it when i make you cum..” she admits. your legs shaking like crazy, feeling overstimulated.

you know how that goes..

once you orgasmed, you let abby suck her fingers, tasting every bit of yourself. and just like that, you were laying down with a fast pounding in your chest. she caresses your stomach and kissed all over your body, still needing to feel you more. but knew you needed her the most.

“hey, you okay?” she asked softly, looking at your sleepy eyes. she just wanted the both of you to be good. “i’m fine.. just a little tired. i feel like you don’t know how badly it hurts me to see you purposely being all over people like that.”

abby sighs, knowing she fucked up. she didn’t want to be that person anymore. she loved you, really, but her actions just aren’t the thinkable. you both sleep skin to skin while she stays up to watch you fall deep in your sleep.

“i love you, angel.” she whispers. feeling all the guilt in her chest, your girlfriend pulls you in closer.

of course, she had to make it up to you the next day so she cancelled all plans. it’s not like she got up in time anyway.

well now you both know she won’t ever be doing that shit again.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

[pitchsidestories]

when grumpy met sunshine II Kika Nazareth x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2382

It was the first day of training after the summer vacation marking the start of pre-season. With the new players coming in on the one hand and on the other hand the familiar faces it almost felt like the beginning of a school year. Everyone was buzzing.  

One of the fresh signings approached you quickly once she recognized you, her face lit up with joy and excitement.

“Hi y/n, I love your playing style and can’t wait to play with you!”, Kika Nazareth greeted you. God how you hated that footballer and her stupid smile. Also how dare she is saying that after what happened a year ago.

“Uhu, sure. It seems like you forgot what you did during the Champions League group stage games.”, you answered coldly.

“Huh, what do you mean?”, the Portuguese woman frowned confused.

“Forget it.”, you waved it off and rushed off leaving a very bewildered Kika behind.

“Don’t take it personally she never forgets anything really. Come on you need to meet the rest of your new teammates.”, Mapi padded empathetically the shoulder of the young forward.

“But I don’t get it, Mapi. What did I ever do to her?”, the brunette asked the defender, while her brown eyes followed you across the room. S

he was genuinely excited to play with you, if you hadn’t stopped her so abruptly the Portuguese might have said even more. How Kika loved the way you looked and.. she should stop thinking any further you clearly were mad at her, but why?

“I don’t know.”, the older Spanish woman shrugged equally as clueless.

“Weird.”, the forward mumbled.

“Let’s go the others are so thrilled to see you.”, Mapi tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, everyone.”, Kika begun anew, beaming at the teammates. Hoping, no praying, she wouldn’t cause a reaction like yours earlier. The dark haired forward didn’t want to ruin the first day at the new club anymore.

“Hi, welcome to the club.”, Claudia replied grinning.

“And thanks to special agent Aitana for this transfer who sadly can’t be here right now.”, Mapi continued, trying to soothe the fresh signing. It worked Kika did feel more relaxed in front of them.

“Guys calm down she still hasn’t proven herself in the team.”, you commented rolling your eyes, suddenly appearing next to Ingrid.

“I’m aware of how good this team is. But I’m sure I can help.”, the Portuguese swallowed hard, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

“We’ll see about that.”, you shot back.

“Don’t worry you’ll.”, she promised. The football player was waiting for a response but once more you vanished without a trace. What a strange behaviour Kika thought to herself.

Thankfully Ellie delivered a much-needed distraction.

 “Kika? Ewa and I wanted to ask you if you’d join us for a coffee sometime soon? As we’re all new to the city.”  

“Yes, sure, I’d love that.”, she nodded happily.

Ellie beamed: “Wonderful.“

“Can’t wait.“, Kika smiled back at the young goalie.

Once again, you rolled your eyes and turned away from them to focus on your warm up.

You were one of the last to leave the pitch two hours later, thinking that you would have the dressing room for yourself. You did not expect Ingrid and Mapi waiting for you there.

“So?“, Ingrid said with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

You didn’t want to talk about your new team member so you decided to play along: “So what?“

With a half smile she finally formulated a question: “Why are you pouting?“

“I’m not pouting. Just annoyed by that smiley…“, you stopped yourself. You couldn’t come up with the right word for her anyway.

Mapi shook her head: “You’re not annoyed.“

At this point, you were starting to get annoyed with these two as well.

“Yes, I am. We didn’t need her in our team.“

“That’s not our decision though.“, Mapi shrugged.

You were about to say something but Ingrid was faster: “Y/n?“

You turned to her: “Yes?“

“Tell us why you’re mad at her.“

You heaved a frustrated sigh. They were worse than your parents.

“Remember when we drew against Benfica in Lisbon?“

Both of them nodded. Of course they would remember last years UWCL games. “Yeah?“

“What happened there? Why can’t you move on from it?“, Mapi asked.

Her girlfriend added: “Come on. It can’t be that bad. You can tell us.“

They looked at you with those soft eyes, all parent-like. Almost like your team psychologist.

The sudden urge to tell them disappeared completely so you just shrugged and grabbed your bag: “Whatever.“

You could feel their eyes on you as you left the dressing room, still in your workout clothes.

Ingrid looked at her incredulously: “Well, that was strange, Mapi.“

“Very.“, she agreed slowly.

As you went back to your own place, Kika and the other new players sipped on their coffees at a tiny little coffee shop.

“No, I’ll win her over with my charm, Ellie.“, Kika announced confidently. Even they had noticed the awkward tension between the two of you.

The English goalkeeper nodded slowly: “Sure you will, Kika.“

“Anyone wants some cake with their coffee?“, Ewa changed the topic. She had been eyeing the tasty looking sweet treats on display right from the start.

The Portuguese striker nodded: “Of course.“

“Can’t say no, they look delicious.“, Ellie laughed.

“We have to celebrate. It’s our first coffee date in our new home.“, Kika laughed.

Ewa stood up and agreed: “We do.“

She quickly returned with three different slices of cake so all of them could try.

“Knowing we play for such a prestigious club now feels great, right?“, she said as she sat the plates down on the table.

“This feels like a dream come true.”, the goalkeeper agreed with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.

It has always been something the blonde fantasized about since she was a little girl, playing for that club and now the fantasy turned into reality which she was forever grateful for.

When Ellie continued, she sounded serious. “Especially after the last year that I had.” The other two women knew about the stroke the English player had suffered.

That was why Kika pulled her into a soft hug whispering into the ear. You deserve to be here so much, Ellie.”

“Thanks. I’m happy that I got to start with you two.”, the goalkeeper smiled at her new teammates.

“Same. I’ve a feeling this will be a fantastic first season for us.”, Ewa replied enthusiastically.

“And we got each other if it’s getting hard.”, the Portuguese striker added.

“Yes, plus I’m sure even grumpy will like you eventually, Kika.”, Ellie remarked.

Immediately the smile vanished from the brunette’s face. “Not so sure about this. Apparently, I must have done something to her during our UWCL match last season.”

“But you don’t remember?”, Ewa questioned curiously. Quickly Kika shook her head.

“No.”

Although she tried her hardest to think what the striker could have done which made you hate her so much. Usually everyone warmed up under Kikas positive radiance, but you were her first exception, following her into her dreams.

In training Kika and you were much to your dismay supposed to be partners.

“Kika, I think Ill swap with Esmee.”, you declared.

“You can’t swap training partners.”, Mapi interjected in a tone which didn’t allow any dissent.

“Fine.”, you groaned. Even though you had played a few years in the first squad of Barca now aged 21 the defender was still like the big sister you never had, and you didn’t want to disappoint her. Even if it meant you needed to work with the person you disliked.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.”, Kika observed, wearing a huge smile on her lips.

“Yes, with the one who showed me the middle finger last year.”, you muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, it was still loud enough for the striker to understand the words you were saying.

“I never did that!”, she objected loudly.

“Yes, you did.”, you responded.

“No way, I’d never do that.”, Kika insisted.

“And when you said something about the way I played.”, your voice trembled.

“That’s not true.”, the striker denied strongly.

“What’s true?”, you wanted to know.

“Nothing of what you think happened is true!”, she stated passionately.

Hearing her statement made your heart pound hard against your chest. “Are you saying that this is all a huge misunderstanding?”

Obviously!“, Kika said with emphasis and the slightest undertone of anger.

“Oh.“

You didn’t know what else to say. Was she telling the truth? Did it really only look like it at the pitch? Was it a gesture to you or her own teammate?

All the Champions League games seemed to blur together in front of your inner eye. Now you weren’t sure anymore.

“Wait… so you don’t hate me because I’m here and could potentially take your place in the starting squad?“, Kika asked.

You frowned at her: “No, we play two different positions. So why should I be afraid of that?“

“Because I know that you like to push forward too.“, she explained.

You stalled once again. You found it impressive that she had already analyzed your playing style.

You shook your head: “Yes. But I don’t hate your for that. I’m used to tough competition, Barca is my childhood club.“

“Okay… wow.“

“What?“

Kika started laughing: “I really thought you hated me because you had a good reason.“

At first you just glared at her for making fun of you but her laugh was incredibly infectious and you suddenly found yourself laughing with her.

“Stop laughing. This is a good reason!“, you told her as you playfully hit her arm.

“That’s not a good reason.“

“Come on. Focus on your exercise.“, you reminded her, still smiling.

Kika raised her hands defensively and grinned: “Okay, okay. Can’t make you mad at me again.“

“No. Also I have to maintain my grumpy status.“, you replied and tried your best to keep your face serious again.

Kika giggled: “Sorry, of course.“

“Good.“

“Don’t worry. I think I can handle your grumpiness.“

You squinted at her: “Might need some sunglasses to deal with your sunshiny attitude.“

“I know you love it.“, she winked at you. She really dared to wink at you!

You shook your head: “No, you’re still the most annoying person around here.“

“You don’t mean that.“

She was right. You didn’t.

Still, you continued to tease: “Are you sure?“

She flashed you a confident smile: “Yes.“

“Dream on.“

Kika shrugged casually and focused back on your partner exercise: “If you say so, y/n.“

After your talk, you didn’t feel that intense anger towards Kika anymore. Everything was a bit lighter once the misunderstanding was cleared up. It went even so far that you didn’t react with pure disgust when she asked you to room together at your first pre-season match against Hoffenheim.

“Can’t believe we’ve to share a room, Kika.“, you joked as you sat on one of the beds.

Kika threw herself onto the other one: “Quit complaining, you grump.“

You shrugged with amusement: “At least it’s just for one night.“

The Portuguese striker smiled: “You will survive. I’m a quiet sleeper.“

After you both changed into your pyjamas and brushed your teeth you happily let your head fall on to the soft pillow.

“Good night, Kika.”, you mumbled.

“Night y/n.”, the striker hummed.

Yet something was off, the heat in that southern part of Germany still hung in the room, plus Kika hasn’t stopped moving in her bed. 

“Can’t you sleep?”, you asked her with a heavy sigh.

“No, what about you?”, she returned the question, directing her gaze straight at you.

“Me neither.”, you admitted. There was some restlessness and tension between the two of you, it was almost unbearable.

“Do you want to talk?”, Kika offered kindly.

“Sure.”, you agreed softly.

“So, what keeps you up?”, the Portuguese wanted to know.

Even though the moonlight enhanced her features and made you think thoughts again you tried to avoid you started with a less heavy confession.

“The adrenaline of the win. I think I’ll never get tired of that feeling, what about you?”

You waited for her response, did you imagine it or did her cheeks turn red, it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Oh, yeah, I get that. I love it too. But there’s something else that keeps me awake.”, the brunette replied nervously.

“There’s? Are you missing Portugal?”, you listened up.

“A bit yes, but that’s not it. This might be a bad start for the new season, but there’s someone in this team that I think I’ve a crush on.”, Kika confessed.

“You do?”, you answered stunned.

“Yeah.”

For a moment you paused before the realization hit you hard.

“Wait, it’s me, right?”

“It’s yes.”, she confirmed quietly.

“That’s too bad because I.”, you begun.

“Oh, you don’t have to say anything, I get that. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”, the striker interrupted you quickly.

“No stop talking for a moment.”, you begged her, placing a finger of yours onto her lips. God, that woman really loved to talk, even though now the time clearly was for listening as you tried to demonstrate to her.

“I fell too.”, you added in a whisper.

“You did? Am I not way too annoying for you.”, Kika frowned.

“Yes, you’re and yet I’d like to kiss your mouth who loves to annoy me with it’s yapping.”, you grinned.

“You should give it a try maybe.”, she smirked.

“Maybe you can sleep better afterwards.”, you suggested playfully.

“Maybe we both can.”, your teammate wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m sure of it.” First the kiss was cautiously before it was getting more intensely until you heard the door open loudly.

“Oh my god!”, Mapi yelled.

“Mapi, get out!”, you shrieked.

“I didn’t see anything. Promise!”, the defender gesticulated wildly. With that said she was gone as quick as the older woman came.

“This news will run like a wildfire, right?”, Kika chuckled.

“Yes, by tomorrow morning everyone knows.”, you groaned as she pulled you into a hug.

“I don’t mind that. They can know that grumpy and sunshine always belong together.”, she announced solemnly placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, I’m writing to ask if you could write a Daniel Ricciardo x reader story. (I know very well that this isn’t the right time since we’re all devastated because of his departure), but I’ve had this story in my mind for a long time. It’s a pretty serious subject, but I’d like to know how Daniel and the other drivers would react when they discover that a team principal (I have no idea who) is accused of sexual harassment, etc. And how he would react to finding out that his girlfriend, the reader, is one of the complainants and that she hid it from him.

thanks love

as the world crumbles (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, sexual harassment

The atmosphere in the paddock was tense, much tenser than usual. News traveled fast, but this—this was different. Rumors had been swirling for hours, but when the official statement came out, the paddock fell into a stunned silence.

Mattias Verner, the team principal of a mid-field F1 team, had been accused of sexual harassment by multiple women on his team. It was the kind of scandal that shook the sport to its core. No one had seen it coming.

Lando Norris was the first to speak up, leaning against the side of the McLaren garage, his expression one of disbelief. “Is this for real?” He looked around at the other drivers who had gathered, his eyes wide with shock. “I mean… Verner?”

George Russell shook his head, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his usually calm demeanor replaced with a mixture of anger and discomfort. “I’ve heard things before, you know. Like whispers. But I didn’t think…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"Yeah, but whispers don’t always mean something, mate." Alex Albon frowned, his face pale. "But this? It’s in the statement. There are names. Women from the team."

Max was silent, his face set in a deep frown as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bastard deserves whatever’s coming to him,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. The usual cold determination in his eyes was now replaced with something darker. “People like him shouldn’t be anywhere near the sport.”

Carlos shook his head, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "I don’t get how no one knew. How did this stay hidden for so long?" He glanced around at the other drivers, as if hoping someone had an answer.

Pierre , sitting on a crate, tapped his foot anxiously. “People like that… they’re always careful. They make sure no one notices until it’s too late.”

Lewis , who had just arrived, listened quietly before finally speaking. "It’s disgusting. He abused his power. Makes me sick." His voice was low, simmering with barely contained anger. "We need to do better. As a sport, as a community. These women—" He paused, shaking his head. "They trusted him, and he betrayed them."

The drivers all nodded in agreement, but there was a deep discomfort in the air. They were used to competing against each other, fighting for the championship, pushing themselves and their cars to the limit. But this—this wasn’t about racing. This was about something far more personal, something far more sinister.

Charles Leclerc looked around, his brow furrowed. “Do we know who the women are? I mean, do they want us to support them publicly or keep quiet until the investigation finishes?”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “From what I’ve heard, some of the names are out there. But I don’t know all of them. It’s… sensitive.”

Daniel Ricciardo, who had been standing off to the side, unusually quiet, felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The whole situation disgusted him. The idea that someone so high up in the sport could abuse their position like that made his blood boil. "Whoever they are," he said, his voice low, "we have to have their backs. They’re part of this paddock, just like us."

The others nodded in agreement, but a heavy silence fell over the group again. They were all thinking the same thing—Who was involved? Who had been hurt? And why hadn’t they noticed anything sooner?

Lance Stroll spoke up hesitantly. “I can’t believe it’s taken this long for something to come out. I mean… if it’s true—”

“If?” Max interrupted sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. “You don’t think this many women are lying, do you?”

Lance held up his hands defensively. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… it’s hard to wrap your head around. That someone we’ve seen for years could be—” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Esteban Ocon, who had been mostly quiet, finally said, “It’s hard to accept, but we have to. These women deserve to be believed. And Verner… if it’s true, he’s finished. No way back from this.”

The drivers exchanged looks, all of them sharing a silent understanding. This wasn’t just another scandal that would be brushed under the rug. This was something that would change the sport forever.

Daniel stayed quiet for a moment longer, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. But there was something gnawing at him, something he couldn’t quite shake. The whole situation felt too close, too personal. And then, almost as if the thought had struck him like a punch to the gut, his eyes widened slightly.

He looked over at Lando, who was still talking with George, his words fading into the background. But Daniel’s focus had shifted entirely.

"Y/N," he muttered under his breath, his heart suddenly racing. She worked in the paddock. She knew people. She was in those circles, always professional, always around the team principals and engineers.

His stomach twisted into knots.

Without another word, Daniel turned on his heel and started walking briskly toward the McLaren garage. He had to find her. He had to know if she was okay. And more importantly—he had to make sure she hadn’t been hurt.

Because if she had… if that bastard had hurt her in any way—

Daniel’s hands clenched into fists as he marched through the paddock, his mind spinning with fear and fury.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from the murmurs of his fellow drivers. It was a message from Y/N:

"We need to talk. Now."

He stared at the message for a moment, a strange heaviness settling over him. He stood up abruptly, not bothering to excuse himself as he walked out of the room. He found Y/N waiting for him near the motorhome, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them together.

"Dan," she began softly, her voice shaky. "I… I need to tell you something."

His chest tightened as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Y/N, what’s going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

She bit her lip, glancing around before gesturing for them to go somewhere more private. Once they were alone, she took a deep breath. "It’s about the accusations… against the team principal. I—" She stopped, her voice faltering.

Daniel’s heart started to pound. He could feel the gravity of what she was about to say but wasn’t ready to hear it. "Y/N, please. Just tell me."

The noise of the paddock was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the roaring in Daniel’s ears as Y/N’s words sank in.

"I’m one of the complainants."

He blinked, frozen in place. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped spinning. His girlfriend. Y/N. She was part of the accusations against Mattias Verner. His throat tightened, his mind racing, but all he could feel was rage building deep in his chest, the kind that twisted his stomach and made his hands curl into fists.

For a moment, everything froze. Daniel blinked, his body stiffening. "You?" His voice cracked, his heart dropping like a stone. "He—he hurt you?"

Y/N’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she nodded, looking away. "I didn’t want to tell you. I was scared of what you’d do… how you’d react."

Daniel’s breath caught, a wave of anger, hurt, and confusion crashing over him all at once. His jaw clenched tightly as rage filled his chest, every muscle in his body tensing. "Scared of what I’d do? Of what I’d do?" His voice was low, trembling with barely contained fury. "You think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t need to know that some piece of shit was hurting you?"

Y/N flinched at the venom in his voice, but he couldn’t stop. His anger wasn’t at her—it was at Verner, at the fact that someone had the audacity to hurt her. The fact that she’d been going through this alone, that she hadn’t felt safe enough to tell him… it broke something inside him.

"That bastard," Daniel spat, pacing in front of her now, his fists clenched. "That disgusting bastard." His voice shook with anger, his heart thundering in his chest. "I swear to God, Y/N, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make sure he never walks into a paddock again, that he never touches another woman again." He stopped, turning back to her, his eyes blazing with fury. "No one—no one—hurts you and gets away with it."

Y/N’s voice cracked, tears spilling over as she reached for him. "Daniel, please…"

But he cut her off, his voice breaking. "How long have you been dealing with this? How long have you been keeping this from me?"

Her sobs came harder now, her body trembling as she spoke through her tears. "I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t want you to see me differently. I was trying to be strong—"

"Burden me?" Daniel’s voice softened, the anger still there but mixed with heartbreak. "Y/N, you’re my whole world. How could you ever think I wouldn’t want to be there for you? That I wouldn’t stand by your side through this?"

She let out a choked sob, her knees giving way as she collapsed into herself, and in that instant, Daniel’s anger shifted. Seeing her like that—so broken, so vulnerable—ripped him apart. Without hesitation, he dropped down beside her, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, crying into his chest as he held her tightly, pressing his lips against her hair.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered between sobs. "I didn’t want to hurt you."

Daniel’s heart shattered at the sound of her voice, guilt flooding him. He gently rocked her, his anger at Verner still burning hot, but all he could think about now was comforting her. "Shh," he murmured softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It’s okay, love. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you."

She cried harder, her sobs wracking her body as Daniel held her tighter, his own throat tightening with emotion. "I should’ve been there for you," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "I should’ve known."

Y/N shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "I didn’t want to drag you into this mess."

"You’re not dragging me into anything," Daniel said, his voice fierce but tender. "This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. That bastard—" His voice broke again, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "He’s going to pay for what he did. I promise you that."

She trembled in his arms, and Daniel’s heart broke a little more with every sob. He kissed the top of her head, his hand stroking her hair as he whispered, "You should’ve told me, Y/N. You should’ve let me help you through this."

"I was scared," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I didn’t want you to be angry. I didn’t want you to hate me—"

"Hate you?" Daniel pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I could never hate you, Y/N. Never." His voice was thick with emotion, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. "I’m angry, yeah. But not at you. I’m angry at him, at the fact that you had to go through this alone."

Her lip trembled as she whispered, "I didn’t want to be weak."

"You’re not weak," Daniel said firmly, his voice full of conviction. "You’re the strongest person I know. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me."

She sobbed again, leaning into his touch as he held her face in his hands. "I love you," she whispered, her voice broken.

"I love you too," Daniel whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "And I’m going to be here for you, no matter what. We’re going to get through this. Together."

Y/N’s sobs began to quiet as she clung to him, and Daniel held her tightly, his heart aching for her. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, a fire he knew wouldn’t go out until Verner was held accountable, but for now, all that mattered was Y/N. She was safe in his arms, and he wasn’t going to let go.

[vxnuslogy]

— unfinished business.

starring: stellaron hunter!sunday x gn!reader + the other stellaron hunters.

premise: on his first mission with the stellaron hunters, sunday hesitates, unable to push through. frustrated, you step in, taking on the task. when danger strikes, Sunday becomes your unexpected savior. the mission succeeds, but sunday is left wondering about your unfinished business in the capital of passion and your mysterious past before you joined the team.

— warnings: slight angst + arguments.

— author's note: another sunday fic to the collection yippie. pic credits to @helen_zzhao. | ~3.4k words.

the capital of passion always looked magnificent at night. here you were with your fellow hunters and your boss - in his cat form - standing above the capital at its highest peak. flashing lights of neon blues, pinks, and yellows obscured the night sky you preferred to look at when the moon was present. you were sitting on one of the ventilations of the building you were all standing on, silver wolf leaning on the railing playing video games, blade in some corner with his sword close to his chest and eyes strained away from the bright lights, and sunday stood awkwardly standing next to you with elio perched in your lap.

“you already know what to do right, mister?” silver wolf suddenly looks up from her game and drops a silver disc right in front of her. a hologram of the city below you showed up and two glowing yellow dots were running away from the blue dots who you assumed were the public security regulation. “we split up and corner the messengers, interrogate said messengers for more information about the supposed discontinued project, and leave before security catches us. ”

silver wolf looked at sunday with a different glint in her eyes. “you can do a simple task like this right?” 

the man beside you crossed his arms together over his chest and gripped them tightly. brows knitting together in contemplation as his mouth opened just to close again. continuous beeping noises that sounded like alarms from the disc made you suddenly stand up. “they’re changing their course. i thought they mostly traveled in the skies? why are they suddenly using the alleyways?”

“we don’t have time.” blade interrupted with a pointed look to sunday. “can you or can you not do it? the clock is ticking.”

you look at sunday worriedly who has still yet to say another word. “i–”

“mister make up your mind, we’re going to lose them!” silver wolf shouted in worry. taking out her phone and quickly punching a few buttons. red rectangles appeared on a holographic map of the city, closing any passages the messenger could take to escape. “we need to go, like right now!”

you looked towards blade who was already getting ready to jump off the rooftop to chase the messengers. his intense gaze never once left sunday’s figure who continued to shrink more into the shadow. 

“i can’t… i’m sorry.” sunday murmured, hand tightening their hold on his arms. you try not to show how your  eyes widened in disbelief but with the way he avoided looking into your eyes, you couldn’t help the bubbling of frustration that started to fester in your chest.

silver wolf was always calm under pressure so it was strange to see her so shaken. “are you kidding me?!” she stomped towards sunday and pointed an accusing finger to sunday. tapping at his chest multiple times to emphasize her frustration. “you said you were ready! we did not just waste weeks worth of our time to train you for this mission only for you to say that you can’t do it?!”

“silvy come on, give him a break.” you tried to but in, keeping your own frustration hidden behind an understanding smile. “this is his first mission; a complete one-eighty of what he’s used to.”

“you’re being too soft on him, [name]!” a timer of 15 minutes suddenly appeared on the map. “we’re here on a mission. we could get caught!”

“silver wolf is right, [name].” you look at the black cat that sat by sunday’s legs. their head turned to look at sunday but the man only looked away in shame, wings covering his face. “you’ve agreed to become a hunter, mr. sunday. and you’ve also agreed to participate in this mission. need i remind you of the consequences when you don’t follow the script?”

elio never truly intimidated you, not when you first joined, on your first mission, or just in general. but with the way he was sizing up sunday with such judgement made the hairs on your arms and neck raise in realization. elio might have been kind to you, but they weren’t so much with others.

you look back to the map and blade, and then the timer that continues to tick. “i’ll go.”

“what?!” silver wolf’s attention was now on you. and so was everyone else's. “no one knows you’re a stellaron hunter! if anyone were to catch a glimpse of you all your hard work will be for nothing!”

“do you really want to risk that, [name]? ” blade asked, pushing you back to where sunday and elio stood. you felt their gaze on you as you stepped forward and pushed past blade. with a single tap on your earpiece a visor appeared in front of your eyes and showed you the map of the city. the same glowing yellow dots.

“[name].” elio warns.

“i’ll take the one in the west, the rest of you take the north.” you heard a collective shout of your name but you already jumped off. 

the city was more jam-packed than you had imagined. though you were in the alleyways of the capital, bags of trash, old mechanical parts, and even trashed prosthetics laid on the ground making it hard to navigate through the already dimmed path.

you kept a close eye on the yellow dot just a few feet in front of you. furrowing your brows in confusion when it suddenly turned around and started charging in your directions. too focused on the map showing on your visor, you fail to notice the glinting piece of metal that was thrown straight at your head. 

something warm encapsulated your body. you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your waist and your head as the figure in a cloak jumped over your body. a grunt left your savior’s lips making you turn around.

“sunday?!” he only gave you a flustered smile as you sat on his lap. 

“hello…” he replied as you quickly stood up and helped him up. checking over your visor just to see that the yellow dot had taken a different route that you predicted. a curse left your lips as you kicked the trash bags in front of you.

“bladie they're coming your way. be careful, they're armed.” you heard a soft roger from the other end as your visor shut off. you look back to sunday who was dusting off his clothes. your brows knit together in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

he looked shocked by your question but quickly masked it. “i’m here to finish my mission.”

“i thought you said you couldn’t do it?” you wonder what kind of expression you were making to suddenly make the ever so composed sunday squirm.

“blade is right.” he takes a step forward and pushes your hair out of your eyes. wincing when his gloved finger suddenly grazed over the scratch you didn’t even know you had. “you’re too soft on me, [name].”

you raise a brow at him. “would you prefer i be a bit sterner then?”

sunday must have taken your words lightly because he only shook his head in amusement with a small smile on his lips. normally you would smile with him but this time a deep frown tugged at your lips. “i’m being serious, sunday.” 

he ceased his silent laughter and looked at your eyes. “because i will be more strict with you if you’re going to continue acting like this in future missions.”

his shoulders tensed when you turned around, back facing him as you started to walk away back to your meeting point. no doubt silver wolf and blade must have caught one of the messengers and brought them back to the rooftop. 

“let’s go back to our meeting point.” you didn’t wait for his reply when you started scaling up the walls of the alleys. clicking your tongue in disgust when you felt the grime stick to your fingers. 

“are you mad?” 

“excuse me?”

the both of you stopped. just a few feet away from you, you catch a glimpse of elio playing with the holograms. signaling you both to return to continue the interrogation. the night is going to be over soon and you’ve spent enough time running around trying to catch a wild goose.

“of course i’m mad!” you looked at him in disbelief as your voice raised in volume. “sunday, we're in a capital that's being run by a government body who doesn't care about privacy. the fact that we haven't been caught yet is a miracle!” you take a deep inhale and pinch the bridge of your nose. “you said you were ready. that you can finally start taking missions. elio prepared you a script and we helped you train for weeks. so i’m sorry if i’m mad that most of our efforts are going down the drain.”

sunday looked away. he almost looked bashful with one arm brushing up the other. “i apologize. i truly thought i was ready. but with the way you’re treating these people, i couldn’t help but think you’ll–”

“kill them?” he winced at your blunt reply. you continued making your way back to the rooftop, not bothering to slow down your pace as sunday followed you from a good distance. “we’re going to interrogate them. this is your first mission, we aren’t going to make you dirty your hands this early.”

sunday stood incredibly still. as if he's only realizing now what he's really gotten himself into. “so you do plan on making me a murderer.”

you scoffed as you pushed back your hair. taking a deep breath, you steadied your voice. “sunday, we’re wanted criminals.” your eyes narrowing down to glare as sunday tried to challenge you. “why do you think everyone has a bounty in the millions? of course we’ve murdered people. that’s our job.”

“this isn’t right.” he argued. 

“well tough shit.” his eyes went wide, mouth opening slightly but closed just as fast. you weren’t one to curse or even raise your voice but tonight you were losing your cool. “sunday, you agreed to join us. of course you’ll have to get your hands dirty later on. you should be grateful elio gave you such an easy mission that doesn’t require that much force.”

“then what about you?” sunday knew he was pushing his limits, but he still continued. “if you’re all criminals then why have i not seen even a single wanted poster of you?”

sunday quickly regretted asking that when a wave of sadness washed over you. lips pressed together into a thin line as your hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white and slightly shaking. the two of you would’ve stood in silence forever if it weren’t for elio playing with the hologram. you quickly teared your gaze away from him and started to walk away in silence.

“we’re trying to do what’s best for you, sunday.” you say softly. “the consequences of the script getting derailed are catastrophic. trust me,” there was a certain edge to your voice when you turned to look at him. the bright lights of the capital casting a faint glow over your figure making the air sunday tried to inhale get lodged in his throat. “i know what kind of cataclysm might fall if you go off script.”

you reached the meeting point roughly 5 minutes later. elio was licking at his paw and meowed when they saw your figure approaching. squatting down to pet their head, you allow them to rub at your legs before clawing at sunday’s pants and climbing to his shoulders. the halovian let out a sound between a squeak and a groan, normally this would rip out a giggle out of you but your eyes remained focused on the man sitting by the ventilation with his arms tied behind his back. the man cracked one eye open and when his gaze fell over you he started scooting backwards.

“I-its… you…” your brows furrow together as sunday came to stand beside you, the same expression on his face.

“do you know him?”

you shake your head. “no, i don’t.”

taking a step forward, the man cowered and shook like a leaf, leaving you and sunday confused. “how are you alive?!” you were about to question him when he quickly followed it up with something you believed you wouldn’t ever hear again. “you’re that doctor from the train! you were supposed to be dead, i saw the explosion and you were caught in it!”

a lodge appeared in your throat. no sound left your lips when you squatted down to the man’s height to question. suddenly, sunday’s gold eyes felt too heavy and questioning even though you couldn’t see them. you curl your hand into a fist and let out a shaky sigh. closing your eyes to calm the drumming in your ears and heart. this was not the time to look back on the accident that happened amber eras ago.

“oh triple-faced soul,” you hear sunday approach from behind. “please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron,” the air suddenly turned warm as a gloved hand wrapped around your arm pulling you up and tugging you to his side.“so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

elio jumped into your arms, tapping a paw at your chin making you look up at sunday with worried eyes. “this will be faster.” he said, waiting for you to ask the question you had prepared beforehand.

taking a deep breath, you take out your phone and give it to sunday. he nodded at you, a hand came to the small of your back to steady you. your mind swam with questions on how this man knew about the explosion, you were very sure that no one was there to see it. “come to my office after the mission.” elio spoke softly, breaking you out of your nightmares.

“question: what do you know of the windborne project?” sunday questions, his golden stare narrowed dangerously at the man’s figure.

“it’s a discontinued project,” the man gulped before continuing. “there were too many errors and too few researchers. the blueprints were leaked by an old messenger and not long after, the others were captured by the public security regulation.”

“do you know who leaked the blueprint? what about the original creator?”

“we don’t know! everyone assumed that a rat had gotten in through some means and leaked it.”

“do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

the man hesitated. he started taking sharp inhales and let out shaky exhales. hands started shaking in his restraints as sunday took a step forward and kneeled to the man’s level. golden eyes not once faltering.

“i will ask you again, do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

“y-yes!” the man cried out. “it’s in my bag, you can have it, so please, spare me..” 

you let go of elio gently and made your way to the stray bag in one of the corners. zipping it open you pull out a gray cylinder and wouldn’t you know, the words “windborne” were written in white marker. taking off the lid and sliding out the paper, you open it and let out a hum.

“continue with the interrogation,” you tell sunday, taking out a pen from your pocket and started writing on the blueprint. circling and crossing out words like the materials needed, the measurements and instructions on how its supposed to be used.

“where can we find the holo-wings?” you felt sunday’s eyes flicker over to you but you pay it no mind.

“the tech labs in arcadia research department. they’ve been manufacturing them in secret and selling them in the underground markets.”

you hum and write more stuff down. “ask him about the nano-actuators.”

“and what about the nano-actuators? where can we get them?”

“cybernetic shops. their found all across the capital.”

“cybernetic shops…” you mutter after circling another portion of the words on the blueprint. after a few more notes, you roll up the blueprint and put it back in its cylinder. “you can let him go now, we’re done here.”

sunday stood up and dusted his pants, letting go of the man from his trance. a shiver went up your spine when he looked at you, the remnants of the order’s power swimming in them before they all vanished when he blinked. you follow his gaze towards the cylinder in your hand but made no move to question it.

“i told you everything i know, so please let me go…!” the man cried out with tears in his eyes.

“not yet,” you reply with a monotone voice. “my other friends still want something from you.”

his eyes widened and continued to thrash in his restraints. you only shake your head and pull out your phone to text silver wolf and blade for any updates. “are you really a nameless?” the man beside asked with so much gentleness. your initial frustration washed away completely you began to wonder if he was using his powers on you. but when you looked at his eyes, you saw nothing but sincere concern.

“was, sunday.” you look away from him and look over to the horizon, the sun is rising. 

“is it connected to the explosion the man said?” he asks, voice laced with concern and curiosity.

you press your lips together, looking down at the cylinder container in your hands. “it’s all in the past now. irrelevant pieces of information.” elio meows at you both and starts walking to where the stairs are. “this is a story better left unfinished, sunday. so please don’t try to see how it ends.”

the trip back home was quiet and awkward. you sat in the passenger seat this time while silver wolf and sunday sat in the back. every so often, sunday’s eyes would flick over to you. silently looking out the window, the cylinder in your lap as you drummed a beat on it to try and distract yourself from the fatigue of last night’s mission.

an elbow to his side made him wince slightly. he turned to glare at the girl beside him who showed her phone. sunday squinted his eyes in confusion when he read the message silver wolf sent to him.

favorite?

“we’re here.” blade’s voice cut through the quiet and still atmosphere. both sunday and silver wolf looked up from their phones just in time to see you leave the car with elio in tow. 

when everyone entered the building, you put the cylinder on one of the couches and greet firefly and kafka in the kitchen. briefly excusing yourself from the two and following elio down a corridor he’s never gone through before. 

sunday’s eyes never once left your figure even after you disappeared into a room with destiny’s slave. mind swimming with more questions about your past and yourself in general. he pondered on what silver wolf meant when you were elio’s favorite. not to mention the sudden info dump on you being an old nameless from the astral express. 

who exactly are you, [name]?

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 8

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He's turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: suggestive

You woke up after an amazing night sleep once again, next to Lando.

Sliding out of bed, you carefully detangled yourself from his arms . You turned when you heard him mumble something in his sleep, making you smile.

You quickly got ready, putting on a comfortable outfit for breakfast, a meeting and the flight tonight. As you were both you leave, getting your stuff together you felt a familiar pair of arms around your waist.

You turned to face him, placing a soft on his lips "I didn't want to wake you" he laughs nuzzling his head into your neck

"Couldn't fall back asleep with the cold space next to me" he smiled, kissing you again, this time letting it linger "You're going to make me late" you laugh trying to pull away

"It's Kika, she'll understand"

You kiss him one more time before grabbing your bag "I will be back soon, enjoy your morning and try get packed"

"Have fun Princess"

You close the door behind you, walking down the steps and out the apartment building. Thankfully it was only a short five minute walk to meet Kika.

When you arrived Kika was already sat at table waiting for you "Good morning, am I late?" you ask sitting you bag down "No you're right on time, Pierre dropped me off when he was heading out. Here's your coffee" she smiles handing you, your drink

"Thank you, are you up to anything today?"

"Going to the gym with Pierre and then going home for a date night before I fly back home tomorrow for a shoot. What about you? Going back the apartment to tell your boyfriend you're in love with him?"

You roll your eyes taking a sip of your drink "Don't get me started" you scoff "What did he do? He's not hard to attack, we can team up" she jokes resting her hands on the table

"As much as I appreciate you for being willing to attack Lando, it's not him. It's Zak. Last night we went for dinner and Zak immediately jumped on it saying he was going to get cameras, Lando said no and hung up the phone on him. He was so frustrated with him, we have a meeting with him later"

"I've never liked that guy, but I do have one question"

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck happened between you and Lando? Last time i checked you were too scared to tell him how you felt now you're going out for dinner with him wanting no camera's there"

"Max, Lando and I's friend came over, Lando and I bunked up and we've had a few kisses, it feels so normal. We haven't exactly spoke about it but I think if we're going at the pace we are, it could possibly turn into a relationship"

Kika smiles nodding “I’m happy for you, really happy. Did you guys get flight’s back home?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving after the meeting, I can’t wait to see his family again. We’re staying with them for a few days”

“Does his family know what’s going on between you two?”

“Nope and when Lando tells them I don’t think they’ll react well. They’ve been hoping for us to get together since we were 14 and when they find out what’s going on is PR”

“But it’s not really PR, everything is real. Right?”

“Yeah, it is”

—

When you arrive back home, you return to see Lando running around the place “What have you lost?” you ask, dropping your bag onto the sofa “My charger, hi baby. How was breakfast” he quickly kisses you before returning to his hunt

“It was good, have you checked if you’ve packed it already?”

“Shit, now i remember packing it” he stops walking towards you, how was your date with Kika?” he asks wrapping his arms around you waist

“Good, have you got your laptop set up for your meeting with Zak?”

“Our meeting baby, our. Yeah it’s set up, Actually we have to get online now, are you ready for this”

“No, the last thing I want to be doing the day after you winning is having a chat with Zak”

Lando nods his head in agreement, sighing walking over to the kitchen counter where his laptop was sat, pulling a chair close to him for you to sit.

“Hey guys, how are you?” Zak asks once connected “Yeah we’re great, how are you?” Lando answers “Good to hear, now I’m not giving you guys into trouble but we need you guys out in public more. We’ve got some photos up on fan pages, gossip pages and news outlets but we need more. What are your guys plans this week?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes off camera. Lando looks at you taking your hand

“We’re heading home, this lovely lady has a meeting in the office tomorrow and we are going to see my parents for a few days-“

“Great” Zak interrupts “We will get photographers at the airport tonight, keep me updated where you are guys”

The call ends suddenly, you walk away from the table annoyed heading to the bedroom “Baby, come on. It won’t be that bad”

“No Lando. Im sick of this. It is hard enough being photographed just for being your friend. Now that I’m your “girlfriend” I am being photographed going to an airport. It’s not even been a week, and as Zak said there’s barely any photographs it’s hell already. I hate this” you rant, sitting on the bed

“I know, I hate it too. But it’s three months like this at least, that’s what the contract said. I’m sorry it’s like this. I promise once this is over you’ll never need to see my face again” he wraps his arm around your shoulder

“You know I would never want that, I just don’t want our lives and time together to be decided by a piece of paper”

“Me either Princess, I love what we have going on so much” he leans in “Me too Baby” you kiss him laying down

He moves on top of you, slowly deepening this kiss, humming as you pulled him closer by the shirt “You are so beautiful” he says between kisses, taking off your shirt

He takes his shirt off throwing it on the ground “Lan” you breath “Don’t stop”

He grabs your arms, pinning them above your head as he kisses down your neck.

He stop when his phone rings louding, groaning as he answers “What do you want Max?”

“I was kinda in the middle of something” he answers Max’s question, pulling you close to him. You kiss his chest, leaning your head on him slowly feeling your eyes close

“Look mate i’m gonna” he looks down at you, now asleep nuzzling in closer to him “I’ll call you back later” he whispers hanging up the phone

“I’m so in love with you” he says once he hears your soft breathing

part 9

TAGS

@harrysdimple05 @ironmaiden1313 @charli123456789 @alltoomaples @jule239 @panicsinvirgo @cmleitora @blueberry64857959 @imboredway2much @landoslutmeout @obxstiles @morenofilm @formula1mount @dreamercrowd @brekkers-whore @sialexia @bokutos-babyowl @wobblymug @merchelsea @lexiecamposv @lunamelona @nightlockcornucopia

[pucksandpower]

Silverstone Silver Linings

Charles Leclerc x Oscar Piastri x George Russell x Reader

Summary: the British Grand Prix was a difficult race for all three of your boys, luckily you have an idea to make it better

The hotel room door clicks open, revealing three dejected figures silhouetted in the hallway. Charles, Oscar, and George shuffle inside, their clothing rumpled and their expressions downcast.

You sit up on the bed, concern etching your features as you take in their defeated postures. “Oh, darlings,” you murmur, opening your arms. “Come here.”

The three drivers gravitate towards you, drawn by the comfort you offer. Charles flops face-first onto the bed with a muffled groan. Oscar perches on the edge, running a hand through his tousled hair. George paces restlessly, unable to settle.

“That was ... not ideal,” Oscar says, his voice strained.

You reach out to stroke his back soothingly. “I know, love. You all drove brilliantly, though. Sometimes things just don’t go to plan.”

George lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. A bloody water system issue? After starting on pole? It’s like the universe was laughing at me.”

“At least you didn’t have to suffer through the whole race,” Charles mumbles into the duvet. “I felt like such an idiot out there.”

You frown, tugging gently at Charles’ shoulder until he rolls over to face you. “Hey now, none of that talk. You followed the call that seemed right at the time because you trusted your team. How were you supposed to know the rain would stop and Ferrari fed you wrong information?”

Charles sighs, his eyes meeting yours. “I know, I know. It’s just ... frustrating. I thought maybe this would be our weekend, you know?”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Tell me about it. P2 felt so close I could taste it. Then being held out without pitting ...” He trails off, shaking his head.

You pull Oscar closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You showed everyone what you’re capable of today. That won’t be forgotten.”

George finally stops pacing, sinking onto the bed next to you. “I just feel so ... helpless. Like no matter what I do, something always goes wrong.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. “You can’t control everything. What matters is how you handle the setbacks.”

Charles props himself up on an elbow, a hint of a smile finally tugging at his lips. “She’s right, you know. We’re lucky to have such a wise girlfriend.”

Oscar chuckles softly. “And a patient one. How do you put up with three moody drivers?”

You grin, playfully ruffling his hair. “It’s not easy, but someone’s got to do it.”

George leans into your touch, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “We don’t deserve you, truly.”

“Nonsense,” you reply, pulling him closer. “You all deserve the world. And I intend to remind you of that.”

Charles’ eyes spark with interest as he finally seems to notice your attire. “Is that ... new?” He asks, gesturing to the lacy ensemble.

You blush slightly, a coy smile playing on your lips. “Maybe. I thought you boys might need some cheering up after the race.”

Oscar’s gaze roams appreciatively over you. “Well, consider me thoroughly distracted.”

George grins, some of his usual charm returning. “You know, I’m suddenly feeling much better about that DNF.”

You laugh, the sound bright and infectious. “Good. That was rather the point.”

Charles sits up fully, his earlier despondency forgotten as he drinks in the sight of you. “You are far too good to us, mon amour.”

“Never,” you insist, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “You all work so hard. You deserve to feel appreciated.”

Oscar’s hand finds yours, squeezing gently. “How did we get so lucky?”

You turn to him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m the lucky one, darling.”

George wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I beg to differ,” he murmurs against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Charles watches the exchange with darkening eyes. “Perhaps we should show our appreciation more ... thoroughly?”

You bite your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. “I certainly wouldn’t object.”

Oscar’s fingers trail along your collarbone, feather-light. “Where should we start?”

“I have a few ideas,” George says with a roguish grin, his earlier frustration melting away.

You laugh, playfully swatting at his chest. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Russell.”

Charles moves behind you, his arms encircling your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “And what about you, chérie? What do you desire?”

Your breath catches as Oscar’s hand skims up your thigh. “I ... I just want you all to feel better.”

George cups your face, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Oh, we feel much better already. But we’d like to return the favor.”

Oscar nods in agreement, his voice low. “Let us take care of you for a change.”

You melt into their touches, overwhelmed by the love and desire radiating from all three men. “Well, when you put it that way ...”

Charles chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back. “I think that’s a yes, hmm?”

George’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss, effectively silencing any further discussion. You lose yourself in the sensations, grateful for the chance to comfort your boys and be comforted in return.

As clothes are shed and caresses grow bolder, the disappointments of the day fade away. In this moment, there is only love, passion, and the unbreakable bond between the four of you.

Later, as you lie tangled together in a blissful haze, Charles breaks the comfortable silence. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind about today.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Charles nods, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Mhm. Any day that ends like this can’t be all bad.”

George laughs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. “I have to agree. Though I still wouldn’t mind a do-over of that race.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Always the competitors, aren’t you?”

Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “Can you blame us? We like to win.”

“Well,” you say with a mischievous smile, “I’d say you all won today, wouldn’t you?”

Charles’ eyes sparkle with amusement. “Absolutely. Though I think we should double-check, just to be sure.”

George nods solemnly, though his lips twitch with suppressed laughter. “Very true. We wouldn’t want any doubt about the results.”

You giggle as Oscar’s fingers find a ticklish spot on your ribs. “And how do you propose we do that?”

The three drivers exchange a look, matching grins spreading across their faces. “I’m sure we can think of something,” Oscar says, his voice full of promise.

As hands begin to wander once more, you send up a silent prayer of thanks for these three incredible men and the love you share. No matter what challenges they face on the track, you know that together, you can weather any storm.

[millyh23]

Selective Standards

Alessia Russo x Reader

word count:

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

Y/N walked into the changing room, expecting to find the usual post-training chaos—water bottles here, jerseys there, a few bits of kit scattered on the benches. But this was on another level. A mess of epic proportions.

Protein shake bottles lay on the floor, half-empty, with their lids off, spilling sticky liquid across the floor. An assortment of clothes, some still in training gear and others discarded in the middle of the room, was strewn about, creating an obstacle course. Half-open snack wrappers crinkled underfoot, and towels were abandoned haphazardly across the benches. It looked like someone had taken a whirlwind tour of the room and forgotten to clean up after themselves.

Y/N froze in the doorway, mouth agape.

“What the hell happened in here?” Y/N muttered, stepping into the chaos, surveying the damage. Her hands flew to her hips as she turned to face the team. “Who even leaves a place like this? This is so disrespectful. We’re a team, we’re supposed to take care of our space. Whoever made this mess should be reprimanded. They should pay a fine or be suspended for a game. This is ridiculous.”

The room fell silent. A few players exchanged awkward glances, and some even stifled small chuckles, glancing at each other. It wasn’t every day they saw Y/N go off like this. Normally cool-headed, Y/N’s frustration seemed to be bubbling over today.

Leah, who had just come out of the showers, raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but trying to hold back her laughter. “Y/N… I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“It’s that deep, Leah,” Y/N snapped, gesturing to the mess. “Look at this. It’s disrespectful to all of us. You know how hard we work. This—” She pointed to an empty water bottle rolling across the floor, “—this is a disaster.”

Katie, who was sitting on the bench nearby, grinned mischievously. “You know, you could always just pick it up yourself, right?”

“No,” Y/N huffed, her eyes scanning the room, clearly riled up. “Someone needs to be held accountable. This isn’t just a little accident. It’s a pattern of neglect.”

Just then, the door opened, and Alessia Russo walked in, her attention quickly drawn to the group as she noticed them all looking toward her. She hadn’t noticed the mess yet.

Y/N shot a pointed glance toward the protein shake bottle, still leaking a sticky mess onto the floor. “Whoever did this needs to clean it up—immediately. No exceptions.”

Leah couldn’t help but smile, taking a slow step toward Y/N. “Well, you might want to turn around, because—”

Before she could finish, Y/N’s voice rang out again, sharp and direct. “And I’m serious. If this happens again, I don’t care if it’s—”

“Uh, Y/N,” Leah interrupted, a grin tugging at her lips as she stepped to the side. “It’s Alessia’s mess.”

Y/N froze mid-sentence, her eyes wide. She turned slowly to see Alessia, who was now staring at the group, completely unaware of the mess she had left behind. Her eyes darted from teammate to teammate, catching their expressions. And then her gaze fell on the aftermath she’d left in her rush.

“Oh no,” Y/N muttered, her face turning bright red. She hadn’t even noticed that Alessia was the culprit when she was ranting. “I didn’t—uh… I didn’t realize it was—”

Katie raised an eyebrow, giving Y/N an amused look. “You sure? You were just about to have someone suspended for this.”

Y/N, caught in the moment, quickly tried to backtrack, her voice dropping an octave as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Well, I mean, we all get caught up in things, right? Just a little… oversight. Nothing major. It’s fine. Not a big deal. Right, Alessia?”

Alessia, who had been listening with an amused grin, walked over and casually tossed her gym bag on the bench. “Yeah, I was running late for media stuff,” she said with a shrug. “Guess I left a trail behind me. Sorry about that.”

Y/N, now visibly flustered, waved her hand dismissively, trying to cover up her earlier outburst. “No, no, it’s… it’s really not that serious. Just, maybe next time, a little more care when you’re in a rush? That’s all. Right, guys?” She forced a smile, but it was clear she was embarrassed.

Katie burst out laughing, slapping her hands on the bench. “Oh, you were so ready to fine someone for this mess, and now you’re backtracking?”

“I was just—” Y/N started, but she didn’t have the energy to continue. “I guess I got a little carried away. It’s Alessia. I’ll let it slide… just this once.”

Alessia, who had clearly caught the shift in Y/N’s tone, grinned and casually threw an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all good, babe. Thanks for being so understanding. I’ll do better next time.”

Y/N shot a playful glare at her, trying to regain her composure. “Just… don’t make me do a whole speech next time. I’ll have to give you a fine or something.”

The entire team erupted into laughter as Y/N’s serious demeanor quickly crumbled into a sheepish smile. Alessia leaned in close, still grinning. “You’re the best, Y/N. Maybe I’ll get you to help me clean up next time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Y/N muttered with a roll of her eyes, “I’ll bring the fine book.”

And with that, the room returned to its usual chaos—but this time, everyone was a little lighter, the tension having dissolved in a fit of laughter.

---

The team was starting to form more bad habits. Every day, without fail, more and more players were coming late to training. It wasn’t anything too serious at first—just a few minutes here and there—but Y/N, always one to stick to the rules and maintain discipline, was getting fed up.

It had been the third day in a row that several players were running through the gates minutes after the scheduled start time. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, that’s it,” Y/N muttered to herself, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as the last player jogged onto the field. “Enough is enough.”

She marched up to the front, her voice firm and clear as she addressed the entire team. “I’m done with this. We’re all professionals here, and we can’t keep letting people stroll in whenever they feel like it. From now on, anyone who’s late will be fined. A minute late? A minute’s fine. You’re five minutes late? Five minutes’ worth of fines.”

The room went silent, the rest of the players exchanging nervous glances. They knew Y/N wasn’t messing around.

Katie, ever the troublemaker, leaned in and whispered to Leah, “She’s not serious, is she?”

“Oh, she’s dead serious,” Leah replied, eyes widening as she watched Y/N cross her arms and glare at the group. “You’ve seen her like this before.”

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto the players who had been late. “This isn’t school, people. You all know better. You’re adults. You can show up on time. It’s disrespectful to your teammates, and we need to take this seriously.” She turned to face a particularly late-looking Kyra. “Five minutes late today. That’s a fiver.”

Kyra rolled her eyes but said nothing, too tired of the back-and-forth to argue. Y/N then turned her eyes to the next culprit, Alessia, who had just jogged in, breathless from her sprint to the field.

“Alessia, you’re late again!” Y/N snapped, hands on her hips, but before Alessia could even start to apologize, Y/N’s tone softened. “No, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s just—training was probably a little too early for you today. I’ll take care of the fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Alessia blinked, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “Really? You’ll take care of it?”

“Of course,” Y/N replied, shaking her head, her voice calming. “You don’t need the added stress. We’ll make sure your fine is covered. You can count on me.”

Y/N then glared back at the others. “But for everyone else? You’d better pay up. You’ve all been warned.”

Leah gave her a pointed look as Y/N turned her attention to the rest of the group. “If anyone else is late, there’s no excuse. I mean it. We’re not running a daycare here.”

The session went on, but Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the other players seemed to keep a little distance from her. They knew Y/N meant business, and with her new fine system, she wasn’t about to let anyone get away with being tardy.

The next few days passed, and the fines kept racking up. By the end of the week, Y/N had nearly filled a small notebook with the fines from late arrivals, most of which had come from the usual suspects: Katie, Beth, and a few others who just didn’t seem to care. But when Alessia was late yet again, Y/N was quick to brush it off.

“Alessia, don’t stress. I’ve got this,” she’d say, her voice soft and reassuring, even as she filled in the fine for her late arrival.

The others watched this dynamic unfold. The fines were getting hefty—very hefty—but every time Alessia was late, Y/N would simply wave it off and mutter that it was okay. They all found it strange, but there was something about the way Y/N spoke to Alessia that made her seem… untouchable, in a way.

By the end of the month, Y/N had paid off all of Alessia’s fines, covering the hundreds of euros in late fees. Every time she brought it up, Alessia would try to refuse.

“You really don’t need to do that, Y/N,” Alessia said, a hint of guilt in her voice.

“I’ve got it covered,” Y/N replied with a smile, brushing off Alessia’s concern. “It’s not a big deal.”

But even as she said it, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why she was doing it. Why did she always soften when it came to Alessia? Why was she willing to put up with the fines when everyone else had to pay up without a second thought?

One evening, as they sat together after training, Y/N gave Alessia a sideways glance. “You know, if you just stopped being late, I wouldn’t have to pay these fines for you.”

Alessia looked at her with a half-smirk. “Maybe I’m just testing how far you’ll go.”

Y/N chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. “Well, consider this the last time, okay? I’m not made of money, and I’m not paying your fines forever.”

Alessia laughed, leaning in close. “I know. But I appreciate it, Y/N. More than you know.”

Y/N just smiled, knowing full well that no matter how many fines Alessia racked up, she’d always be the one to take care of it. She didn’t mind. Not when it was Alessia.

It was one of those days where the team was a little too playful for their own good, and Katie had a mischievous gleam in her eye. She leaned in towards Alessia, a sly grin creeping across her face as she whispered her idea.

“Why don't you come in an hour late to training? You know, just to test if Y/N will actually follow through with paying your fine,” Katie suggested, practically vibrating with excitement.

Alessia raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You really think she’d pay a £200 fine?”

Katie’s grin only grew wider. “Y/N loves you. She’s a softie for you, trust me. She’ll pay without batting an eye.”

Alessia hesitated, but then the thought of seeing how far Y/N would go for her made her heart flutter. “Alright, fine. But if she gets mad, I’m blaming you.”

Katie winked. “Deal.”

The next day, as the team finished their warm-ups and got into their drills, Alessia sneaked in, only to join the sprints, breathless and looking sheepish as she entered the pitch.

Y/N, who had been keeping track of everyone’s arrival times as usual, immediately shot her a glare. “Alessia, you’re late,” she said, arms crossed and voice stern.

The team watched with baited breath, knowing full well that this was going to be interesting. Y/N pulled out her notebook, jotting down the fine.

“1 hour late, that’s £200,” she said, her voice sharp as she turned to the rest of the team. “You all know the rules. Late is late.”

Alessia bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face as she watched Y/N turn back to her, ready to pay the fine. Without a single word of complaint, Y/N pulled out her wallet, counted out the money, and handed it to the coach.

“Here you go,” Y/N said, her voice oddly calm.

Katie couldn’t contain her smirk. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Y/N barely even looked at Katie. She turned back to Alessia, her face softening. “You don’t need to worry about this,” she said gently. “It’s not your fault. I’ll take care of it.”

Without thinking, Y/N reached forward and cupped Alessia’s cheek, leaning in for a kiss, soft and sweet, making the rest of the team collectively roll their eyes. When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her eyes full of affection.

The rest of the team, including Leah, watched in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. Katie, trying to keep a straight face, let out a dramatic gasp. “I can’t believe you actually paid it, Y/N! You’re such a sucker.”

Leah, smirking, chimed in, “Looks like Alessia’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “I’m not a sucker. I’m just making sure my girlfriend isn't stressed over something silly like fines.”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?"

Alessia leaned in, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know. I was just testing you…”

Y/N turned to the group, suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t have pressured poor Alessia into that,” she said, her voice taking on a more reprimanding tone. “If you all have issues, you come to me. We don’t put her in situations like that. You’ve all got to start acting your age. We’re supposed to be grown, not schoolkids that mess with each other for fun.”

The rest of the team exchanged glances, bored for Y/N's thousandth lecture, and nodded in acknowledgment.

Leah nudged Katie, both of them smirking. “I think Y/N’s getting soft,” Leah teased. “Guess the only one who can make her pay £2000 without a fight is Alessia.”

Katie laughed. “I’m just amazed. She didn’t even hesitate! It’s like she has a weakness for her. She's like kryptonite”

Y/N gave them a mock glare, but her voice had a playful edge. “Alright, alright, I get it. You two are clearly jealous because I didn’t pay your fines.”

Katie threw her hands up in defeat. “I mean, I would have asked, but I’m pretty sure you’re whipped for Alessia.”

Leah chuckled. “I think she just wants to see if she can get away with being that spoiled.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, turning back to Alessia, who was clearly enjoying the teasing. She gave her a smile, though. “You’re lucky you’re cute. And you know I’d do anything for you.”

Alessia grinned, her heart swelling with affection. “I know. I won’t make a habit of it. I swear.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her protective nature not fully letting go, but a warmth in her chest that reminded her just how much she cared for Alessia.

The rest of the team couldn’t help but laugh at the playful dynamic between the two, and even though they were teasing Y/N, there was a sense of warmth in the air. It was clear they were a team in more ways than one. Even if some of them had to be teased a little for their soft moments, they all knew Y/N had their backs—just as much as she had Alessia’s.

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

The End

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪ Worldwide - Big Time Rush

I'm gonna be honest- these episodes kind of fell apart while I was making this. The more I re-wrote the story for it's second draft the less this version made sense and the less interested I was to work on it. I have not much else to say except sorry this part is kinda iffy and sorry it took so long. I promise you I'll make up for this in the next episode I PROMISE

Notes on both episodes under the cut!

Sweden Sour

* (I think it’d be really funny if Cody just doesn’t talk at all this episode. Not a word. Just nods and head shakes and depressed faces.)

* Cody’s incredibly depressed after Noah’s elimination. Sierra’s over the moon, though. She sees Cody depressed and gives him a tight side hug, petting his head. She tries consoling him with “I know you’re sad, but it’s ok! At least I’m still here~.” Cody starts sobbing, head in hands. Heather is sick of this already.

* The teams get their “ibuilda” pieces and the Amazons argue on what it’s supposed to be. Cody stares at the pieces for a few seconds before the light briefly re enters his eyes. He starts building. Courtney tells him to stop but Heather tells her he’s obviously got it, so let him work. They start helping him build… something.

* Once the Amazons are done, Heather, Sierra and Courtney take a step back to see what they’ve built. It’s a giant wooden Noah head. Their faces drop. Heather is filled with murderous rage.

* We built Noah’s face (We’re gonna take first place) Cause we built Noah’s faaaace

* Tyler’s jumper would be white.

* Cody doesn’t sing in this number. Chris notices and stares at him threateningly. He reluctantly hums the chorus and Chris takes what he can get.

* (Alejandro takes off his shirt to pull the boat like a freak. Duncan is unfazed and Tyler will deny it if you ask him if he blushed.)

* Sierra hits Noah’s Head hard enough it falls over on its side and suggests sawing off the side to ride in him like a boat. Heather and Courtney agree to this. Cody has no comment.

* Duncan and Alejandro don't bother bending over backwards to please Tyler. Duncan makes himself captain and no one argues.

* When the Amazons go to pick a captain, Courtney grabs the hat and declares herself captain without input. Heather tries to argue but Courtney argues back- Cody is in no condition, no one trusts Sierra and Heather took control the last challenge so this time she’s in charge. Heather reluctantly backs down.

* Amazons catch up to team Chris in the water. Alejandro sees them approach and makes note of Cody’s face, making fun of him for being so upset about “the Noah thing”. Cody furrows his eyebrows and points furiously at Chris’s boat. Courtney agrees that yes, they should shoot their boat.

* It doesn’t matter who wins the challenge since it’s a non elimination round, but I want to say the Amazons persevere. The massage helps Cody enough that he’s not stone faced next episode at least.

Aftermath III (Aftermath Aftermayhem)

* Gwen, Owen and Noah are introduced together. Gwen walks out first and Owen, hugging Noah to the point of lifting him off the ground, walks behind her.

* Geoff asks what all that’s about and Gwen responds that Owen refused to let him go until Noah “understood just how sorry he was”. Noah insists he forgives him, but Owen still won’t let him go.

* The Owen square is replaced by the Tyler square. The prompt is survive. (The hosts throw a bunch of debris at the contestant for thirty seconds and if they dodge everything they move on.)

* (For brevity’s sake, assume all of the contestants that participated in the board game in the original episode participated here [with the exception of Tyler, who is replaced with Owen]. They all get eliminated the same way as well, Noah getting got by aliens, Owen falling down the booby trap square and Beth making it to the final question.)

* When Beth gets stumped on the last question (What was Duncan's band called) Noah yells at her, frustrated: “Oh my- It’s Der Schnitzel Kickers, Beth!!” Confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling.

* (He knows this because Cody had mentioned it in a conversation after the London challenge.)

* Noah initially complains about winning the game, but Owen reminds him that he gets to see Cody again and he shuts up immediately.

* “Noah wins!” “Wasn’t he disquali-” “NOAH WINS!! Let’s wrap it up. We’re done here.”

[clementinegreye]

safer dreams

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader ||

summary: it's not easy to keep someone safe in your nightmares, something Spencer knows all too well.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: fluff || there was only one bed || brief talks of CM themes (nothing graphic)

Exhaling slowly and processing what she could see in front of her, she let out a small huff of frustration. Her feet ached and her back felt tense from the day. The team had pinned down their current Unsub’s geographical profile which had led them on a tense chase which, had it not been for Spencer’s quick trigger finger, might have ended with her meeting a bullet.

After such an intense case the team had decided to stay the night in a local motel and hit the runway early in the morning. Hotch had insisted, they all needed a night to rest and decompress before they had to go back and meet the paperwork waiting for them in Virginia.

All she wanted was to crawl into bed and rest her muscles. But of course, nothing ever happened that smoothly. There hadn’t been enough rooms for everyone at the motel, meaning everyone had to double up. It wasn’t something they hadn’t done before, and over the phone, the motel owner had promised the rooms all had twin beds.

The day had been exhausting, and now she realised after taking in the room in front of her that she had another problem to deal with.

Spencer let the door shut behind him as he came up behind her. Letting his go bag drop to the floor with a light thud. He flexed his fingers allowing the circulation to come back to where the straps of his bag had cut it off.

‘What’s wron… Oh,’ His own eyes caught the layout of the hotel room and landed on exactly what caused his co-worker’s reaction.

The room was small, the door to the bathroom tucked into the corner to the left of the entrance, there was no room for a desk or table but they’d squeezed in a small two-seater sofa. The burgundy plush carpet radiated the warm glow from the bedside lights and cast the room in a cosy ambience. But there was a problem, clearly just a miscommunication with the booking.

One bed.

‘I’ll go back to the front desk; I swear Hotch told me the motel owner told him earlier that there were twin beds for the team.’ He knew it was simply a case of human error. A case of mixed-up keys and booking information. It really wasn’t a big deal, so why did it feel like such a big deal?

‘Spence, we knew we already had to double up, and they had a no vacancies sign.’ She sighed, allowing her feet to travel across the carpet to the other side of the room. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Maybe they gave us the wrong room, I’m sure they can swap…’ His reasoning was futile, he didn’t need to be a genius to realise there was no negotiating with a no vacancies sign. It was almost like he was trying to talk himself down from a ledge, trying to make sense in his mind the panic he was feeling rising in his chest.

‘It’s almost 2 am. If it was a mistake, I’m sure the couple who have our twin beds are fast asleep.’ She had her back to him, facing the small sofa.

She dropped her own go bag on the blush cushion and stretched her arms above her head. The movement caused her shirt to rise just enough that a sliver of her back hit the light, showing two distinct dimples at the bottom of her spine. The image caught Spencer’s eye. It was an innocent move, but his gaze felt all too intimate. With the proximity of the four walls surrounding them, and the quietness of the room it caused an irregular beat in his heart that he was certain was audible and he snapped his eyes away. He swallowed thickly, glaring at the threadbare curtains shutting out the beams of moonlight.

‘We’re the FBI.’ He spoke almost factually as if the authority of the title could force the hotel to rouse a sleeping couple and get them to move rooms, simply for the convenience of guarding his own feelings.

‘Spence. It’s fine with me if it’s fine with you.’ Her voice was quiet, tiredness lacing its way into her speech. She rubbed a hand up her forearm absentmindedly, and if Spencer was in the right mind to focus on profiling her behaviour, he might have deduced that the action was caused by nerves.

‘If what’s fine?’ He stuttered, his brain not quite working to its usual capacity when he met her tired eyes. She raised an eyebrow, almost annoyed but not quite committed enough to it.

‘The bed. We can share for one night. It’s just one night.’ His eyes held a panicked glint. She wasn’t to know that the problem wasn’t that he was going to have to share a bed with her. The problem was he was worried she’d realise exactly how much he wanted to share a bed with her. His lack of response made her uneasy. Spencer Reid was very rarely lost for words. ‘If you’re uncomfortable I can sleep on the sofa.’

‘It’s tiny, and you almost got shot today…’ He stammered, suddenly regaining control of his runaway thoughts long enough to register the lengthy silence between them. She nodded, almost shyly, and his throat closed as he realised how she’d inferred his words. ‘I’m not uncomfortable, don’t sleep on the sofa. There’s no way I can let you sleep on the sofa. There’s enough room for both of us in the bed.’

There was a pause, a shift within the room as if the atmosphere had moved. A gentle smile crept across her face, and it managed to relax Spencer. The lamplight cast a golden haze across the room and her face looked angelic in the low lighting. A breathy sigh left her lips with the force of an almost chuckle.

They settled into their respective evening routines, turning off their lights in tandem before letting sleep wash over them as gently as the ocean. 

___

Spencer jolted awake after feeling a swift kick to his shin. Panic ripped through his body as his eyes scanned the moonlit room. He couldn’t see any imminent danger and his brain fought through the fog of post-sleep confusion. His senses kicked in and he instinctively reached a hand across the bed in search of her. She was shaking, sighs and almost gasps slipping through her lips at a barely audible volume.

He held his breath while he watched her movements waiting. Her shaking continued, a strangled mix of a moan and a yelp left her throat and her arm shot out searching for something. Spencer’s heart picked up its pace, his brows furrowed in concern. He considered reaching for the light but before his sleep-drenched body could she sobbed, a garbled, purely fearful ‘no’. 

She tossed side to side so violently Spencer thought she might throw herself from the bed. Without overthinking it he sat up and leaned over her. His body halted the thrashing movements and, in her sleep, she grabbed his bicep with wincing firmness.

He held her, with gentleness and enough security that she couldn't throw herself around. One hand went to her hip the other held himself up. Her eyes shot open, sparkling in the darkness with the wetness of un-spilled tears, a scream stuck in her throat, retreating when her eyes recognised Spencer’s soft gaze above her.

‘Hey... Hey, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.’ He breathed, hovering above her, he moved his hand from her waist to rest it at the side of her head as if to hold her in place and stop her from injuring herself. Her hand gripped his bicep loosely, the thin material of his pyjama shirt soft between the pads of her fingers. Her breathing matched the rapid beat of her heart and Spencer - without thinking - lifted his hand from the pillow to stroke the side of her face.

It was meant to be comforting, to show her that she wasn’t alone. But the gesture, in the cool pooling light of the late hour, seemed entirely too intimate. He watched as her breathing began to slow and her fear slipped out as a quiet whimper, leaving her in the quiet safety of their shared room, their shared bed.

‘I’m here…’ Spencer whispered, his hand lightly tracing the shape of her face. He felt a strange tightness in his chest as he watched her slowly find her way back to reality, her grip on his arm lessening.

His gaze lingered on her face, taking in the softness of her features in the dim light. The silence was deafening, yet comforting, a shared moment of vulnerability and intimacy in the aftermath of her nightmare. "You're safe," he reassured her, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet room.

He could smell her perfume, it mingled with the dusty smell of the motel, sweet and undeniably her. He didn't know how long they stayed like that; the seconds ticked by with no accountability. The moment felt suspended in time, her eyes went from glassy to sparkling in the pale light and he felt her relax under him. He finally pulled away, his hand lingering in the space between them for a moment before he retreated to his side of the bed, the echo of her nightmare still lingering in the quiet room.

It was Spencer’s turn for his heart to hammer in his chest. Her breathing had steadied and she shifted, hand stretching out to find Spencer's in the empty space between them. The reigniting of contact made Spencer's breath hitch in his throat. He turned to face her, but the fear in her eyes was replaced with something else. He didn't have to be a profiler to know what that look meant. It was the same look that haunted his own reflections.

At that moment, under the soft glow of the moonlight spilling through the window, Spencer thought how pretty she looked. Silence spilt between them, she swallowed gently, blinking her eyes rapidly to quell any tears building. 

‘You kept me safe.’ Her voice came out as a whisper, a kind of admission with more behind it than just the nightmare.

Her words hung in the air, a quiet acknowledgement of the intimacy of the moment. He didn’t respond, because for once he didn’t know how to. He didn’t have a statistic or fact to explain how he felt at that moment. Instead, he squeezed her hand gently, a quiet acknowledgement.

‘Do you get them often?’ He whispered, genuine concern lacing through, the warmth seeping from his chest to his fingers where if he focused, he could feel her pulse. He wasn't sure if she'd even want to talk about it.

She paused, her gaze dropping to where their hands were intertwined. 'More often than I'd like.' Her voice was barely more than a whisper, a vulnerability seeping into her words that Spencer had never heard before. He realised just how close they were in that moment. So close he could see the exact shade of her eyes and the way her brow furrowed when she felt she was being too honest. She always seemed so confident, especially at work.

Being vulnerable was not a luxury many could afford in the BAU.

'And what about you, Spencer?' she asked, her gaze meeting his again. 'Do you ever have nightmares?' It was an unexpected question, one that caught him off guard.

'Sometimes,' he admitted, the truth slipping out before he could stop it. Her fingers lightly tightened around his as if bracing for impact. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his night terrors.

‘What are they about?’ She breathed, in a hushed way that sounded like she was almost afraid to ask.

‘You.’ His answer was faster and breathier than enunciated. As if that might take away from the confessional impact.

‘You have nightmares about me?’ She took a genuine pause, letting go of his hand and sitting up slightly so she was resting on her elbows looking down at him. He scrunched the duvet up in his now empty palm, holding himself.

‘No! Not about you. I mean, yes about you. About losing you. Like today, I thought I was going to lose you today, and without you, it’d be unbearable. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you like I do in my nightmares.’ His words were a whisper in the stillness of the night. Rambled at his usual speed as if the pace would disguise the weight of the feeling rising in his chest. It was panic, mixed with almost shame.

‘But you kept me safe.’ She stated, reaching out to unfurl his hand from the covers as if taking tension away from him like autumn takes the leaves from trees.

‘I don’t always manage to in my dreams.’ He sighed, looking up at her through his lashes. She was quite beautiful and in that second it scared him how much he cared.

"I guess we'll just have to keep each other safe, then," she murmured, a soft, genuine smile tugging at her lips. She rested a hand on his cheek and he instinctively leaned into her, as agreement settled over his features.

Spencer placed a hand atop hers as it stroked his face with more tenderness than he was sure he’d ever experienced. "I guess we will," he smiled a true and honest smile that happily made a home across his whole face. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, and she lay back down beside him, this time with no space separating them. Their hands fell to their sides, fingers instinctively finding each other and intertwining. The fear and tension of the nightmare had evaporated, leaving the quiet intimacy that the two had just shared.

Sleep began to reclaim them and they both felt safer next to each other just from the knowledge that they’d be there, ready to protect each other from whatever nightmares the future held.

[misspygmypie]

The Promise

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x reader Words: 1910 Request: Hello. Lando and Reader having a fight and Lando leaves for a race weekend but reader actually thinks he's going to leave them and tries to hide her crying from Noah but he sees and calls Lando scared he's leaving them making him fly straight back after the race to reassure that he is at leaving his family. Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando and Y/N had always been known for their supportive relationship but as the current Formula 1 season ramped up the pressure started to show. 

The days leading up to the next race weekend had been some of the busiest for Lando. With meetings, media obligations and endless preparations he barely had time to catch his breath. 

Y/N had been supportive but clearly feeling the strain, especially with a six month old that needed all of her attention she was in desperate need of support. But instead their evenings together were now filled with quiet tension rather than shared moments of joy.

One evening when Lando was scheduled to leave for the next Grand Prix soon Y/N brought up the plans for their last few hours together. “I was hoping we could spend some time with each other before you leave,” she said softly as they sat in their living room. “Maybe a quiet dinner or just a night in? We could get a babysitter for Noah and Maebry.”

Lando, his mind still swirling with the demands of the upcoming race, responded with a distracted sigh. “I really can’t, Y/N. There’s so much to do. The team is depending on me and I need to be focused. This race is crucial.”

“Every weekend is crucial, Lando,” Y/N’s eyes flashed with frustration. “It feels like we’re just drifting apart. We barely see each other and now you’re going to be gone again.”

“You know how important this is! I’ve got a job to do and it’s not like I can just skip race preparations because you’re feeling left out!”

The argument escalated quickly. Emotions flared as Lando accused Y/N of not understanding the demands of his career, while Y/N felt neglected and undervalued. Their emotions got more tense by the minute and soon harsh words were exchanged.

In the heat of the moment Lando decided he needed space. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said tensly. He packed his bags, his mind racing with the pressures of the upcoming Grand Prix and the unresolved tension with his wife.

Y/N watched him, feeling both sad and angry. “Is this really how you want to handle this? Just walking away?”

Lando paused for a moment, his hand resting on his suitcase. He looked back at her, his expression exhausted. “I don’t know how else to handle it right now. I can’t stay here and argue. I need to focus on the race. Maybe it’s better if we talk when I get back.”

With that Lando finished packing and headed out. Y/N, feeling powerless and desolate, stood by the door, her heart heavy while she watched him drive away. 

Y/N paced the living room, her heart racing with a fear that felt all too familiar. The memories of the argument with Lando replayed in her mind. She couldn’t shake the nagging worry that he might not come back, just like Noah’s biological father had done after their last fight. The way he had walked out on them when Noah was just two months old without looking back. 

She wasn’t just scared for herself but for Noah too, fearing that the stability and love they had come to rely on might disappear, leaving them both alone once more.

After bringing the kids to bed Y/N retreated to her own bedroom, shutting the door behind her as tears began to flow uncontrollably. She sank onto the bed, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her fears. The thought of Lando not returning gnawed at her, past betrayals and broken promises fueling her anxiety.

Unbeknownst to her Noah, unable to sleep, had wandered down the hallway and stood quietly by the door, listening to his mother’s muffled sobs. His small frame tensed as he heard her crying, his young heart aching with a growing sadness, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

The weekend dragged on for Y/N and Noah. Despite Y/N’s best efforts to keep things normal Lando’s absence was deeply felt. Y/N was preoccupied with her own emotions and the recent argument with Lando, making it challenging to fully address Noah’s growing distress.

The next day, while Y/N was busy in the kitchen, Noah quietly went into his room a few minutes after he had watched his dad on the TV finish practice for the day. Having secretly grabbed his mom's phone, he dialed Lando’s number, his small fingers shaking as he pressed each digit, just how his parents had shown him for emergencies. The phone rang several times before Lando answered.

“Hello?” Lando’s voice came through, busy with the race weekend’s chaos and the exhaustion after the practice session he had just finished.

“Daddy?” Noah’s voice was small and choked with emotion.

“Noah! What’s wrong?” Lando asked, his concern immediate as he recognized his son's voice instead of Y/N’s as expected and he listened to the trembling voice on the other end.

Noah’s tears began to flow freely. “I’m scared, daddy. What if you don’t come back? What if you leave us like… like the other daddy did?”

Lando’s heart instantly ached hearing the raw fear in Noah’s voice. He quickly moved into a private area and sat down, focusing entirely on his son. “Oh, Noah, I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I love you, mommy and Mae very much and I’m coming home soon.”

Noah’s crying intensified. “But what if you don’t come back? I heard mommy crying last night! What if you just stay there forever?!”

Lando felt a sharp pang of guilt and sadness. “Noah, listen to me. I’m finishing up here and then I’m coming home. I’m always thinking about you and mommy and your sister. I would never leave you! I promise I’ll be back soon and we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Noah’s sobs were interrupted by hiccups. “Really? You promise you won’t leave us?”

“I promise,” Lando said firmly. “I love you so much. Just remember, even when I’m not there, I’m always with you in my heart.”

Noah took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Okay, daddy. I love you!”

“I love you too, Noah. Be good for mommy and I’ll see you soon,” Lando said softly.

The call ended and Lando sat quietly, overwhelmed by the emotional weight of Noah’s fears and his own guilt. The pre-race tension seemed insignificant compared to the worry he felt for his family.

Unaware of the conversation that had just taken place Y/N continued her evening routine. When Noah rejoined her in the kitchen he was quieter but seemed somewhat reassured. Y/N noticed the change but was unsure of the source of his sudden calmness.

After dinner she put Maebry and then Noah to bed, her mind still occupied with the issues between her and Lando. When she turned to leave the room Noah’s voice called out softly.

“Mommy, can I tell you something?”

Y/N sat down on the edge of his bed. “Of course, sweetie. What’s up?”

Noah looked up at her, his small face still a bit flushed from his tears. “I talked to daddy. He said he’s coming home soon. And, mommy… I heard you and daddy talking and you crying last night. I was scared.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She reached out to hold Noah’s hand and took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. “I’m so sorry you heard me, Noah. I was just having a hard time. But Daddy and I love you very much and we’re going to be okay. We’re all going to work things out.”

Noah nodded, seeming comforted by her words. “Okay, mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Noah,” Y/N said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. She stayed with him a little longer until he fell asleep, the weight of the most recent events still heavy on her shoulders.

As Y/N left Noah’s room she felt relieved but also sad. The phone call had provided some comfort for Noah but it also highlighted the emotional distance that had grown between her and Lando. Y/N knew they had some work to do when Lando returned. For now she focused on holding her family together, hoping that soon they would rebuild their connection. 

________

After the race, despite the adrenaline and excitement of the weekend, Lando’s mind was consumed by worry. He couldn’t shake the image of Noah’s fearful face and the distress in his voice. The thought of his family struggling while he was miles away drove him to a resolute decision.

When the final checkered flag fell and the race weekend concluded, Lando made a swift choice. He bypassed the traditional post-race interviews and celebrations, driven by a singular focus: getting home as quickly as possible. His team understood his urgency after he briefly explained the situation and provided the necessary support.

Lando rushed to the airport and managed to catch the earliest available flight home, the hours stretching endlessly as he anxiously waited to be back home l with his family. The flight was a blur, his mind fixed on being with Y/N, Noah and Maebry.

It was late into the night when he finally arrived at home. Y/N was in the living room, feeling the weight of the past few days and the tension of the argument with Lando. The apartment was quiet except for the soft sounds of the city outside.

The front door creaked open and Y/N looked up, startled. Her eyes widened as she saw Lando standing in the doorway, looking both exhausted and determined.

“Lando?” she asked, relieved.

Lando stepped inside, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead. I just needed to come back as soon as I could.”

Y/N rushed to him, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re here. You really came back!”

Lando enveloped her in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry for everything. I heard how upset Noah was and he told me how he heard you crying and I couldn’t stand being away any longer. I needed to be here to make things right.”

Y/N clung to him, her tears falling freely. “It’s been so hard! We missed you so much.”

As they held each other they heard a small, hesitant voice from the hallway. Noah had woken up from the commotion, his eyes puffy from sleep. He peeked around the corner, looking at Lando with a mix of apprehension and hope.

“Daddy?” Noah’s voice was barely a whisper.

Lando dropped to his knees, opening his arms wide. “Hey, buddy. I’m home. I’m really sorry for scaring you. I love you so much and I’m not going anywhere.”

Noah ran into Lando’s arms, relieved as he hugged his father tightly. “Daddy, you came back!"

“I did,” Lando said, holding Noah close. “I’m here now. We’re all going to be okay.”

The tension and worry of the past days began to lift, Lando’s presence providing the comfort and reassurance they all needed.

After Noah was back in bed Lando and Y/N settled in the living room. They spoke quietly, sharing their feelings and discussing the issues that had come up. While the road to resolving their issues would take time, the commitment to being present and supportive was a crucial step forward. 

________

AN: Anon, I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

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