#but I want to get some event stuff going while I still can

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lucky

Summary: Based on this request! Reader encourages Penelope to go on a date, which ends in tragedy. This event shakes the team, leading to conflict, particularly between reader and Spencer, who blames her for what happened.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: gun mention, Penelope gets shot, typical BAU crime stuff, people getting mad at reader/blaming reader, Spencer icing reader out, Spencer being questionable boyfriend, Spencer saying mean things about reader, happy ending, Penelope is okay, self doubt/blaming

Word count: 16.7k

a/n: Spencer is kind of an ass for a while but it will make sense ! He is still an angel baby

main masterlist

“So,” Derek says with that familiar smirk, “who’s the lucky guy?”

Penelope's eyes sparkle as she smiles, her fingers toying with a brightly colored pen on her desk. “His name is James. Just this sweet guy I met at the coffee shop. You know... normal, stable. No dark criminal past.” She tries to sound casual, but the happiness in her voice is unmistakable.

“Uh-huh...” Morgan leans in, tilting his head as if scrutinizing her every word. “And you’re sure you want to go out with him?”

A slight defensiveness takes over as Penelope puts her hands on her hips, feigning indignation. “Yes! Why not? Am I not allowed to date now, Derek Morgan?”

Morgan's grin widens, and he shakes his head, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t say that. Just... be careful, alright?”

Rolling her eyes with a dramatic sigh, Penelope can’t help but huff. “Yes, Dad,” she quips, wondering why Derek is being so weird about this.

But then Morgan’s expression shifts, softening into something deeper, more earnest. “No, seriously.” His voice drops, gentle but firm. “Just... be careful, Baby Girl. Don’t give away your heart to some guy who hasn’t earned it.”

Penelope hardens slightly, feeling slightly hurt that Derek feels the need to lecture her. “I know, Derek. But... he seems nice. Really.”

Morgan nods slowly and walks away, still caught in the cloud of his concern and overprotectiveness. She lets out a soft sigh, looking down at the pile of case files on her desk, feeling a little bit deflated despite her earlier excitement. She loves that Derek cares, but sometimes he can be a bit... much. She starts to drum her fingers nervously against her desk, mulling over their conversation.

That's when you come in. You'd been passing by and couldn't help but notice the tense exchange. Taking a quick survey of Penelope's expression—anxiousness and longing—you decide to step in, offering a soft but encouraging smile.

"Hey, Pen," you say gently, leaning against the edge of her desk, careful not to crowd her. "You doing okay? I saw the little showdown with Morgan. He can be a bit... intense sometimes, huh?"

Penelope chuckles softly, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. “You could say that. I mean, I know he means well, but... I just want to do normal things, like go out with a guy. And James... he seems so sweet, you know?”

“James?” you say, a teasing grin spreading across your face as you lean a bit closer. “Who is this James?”

Penelope's eyes dart to yours, and for a moment, she looks like a deer caught in headlights, her surprise quickly melting into a flustered smile. “Oh, he’s... just this guy,” she says, her voice rising in pitch as she tries to sound nonchalant. “Met him at the coffee shop. He's sweet, you know... normal.”

Your grin widens, clearly unconvinced by her attempt to play it cool. “Normal, huh? And when exactly were you planning on telling me about this ‘normal’ guy?”

Penelope tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting out a playful huff. “Oh, come on. It’s just a date... no big deal.” But the glint in her eyes says otherwise, and you know it’s a big deal to her. And that’s exactly why you’re going to keep teasing.

“Well, it’s still a deal!” you exclaim, leaning forward in your seat, eyes wide with excitement. “Tell me all about it!”

Penelope laughs, the warmth of your enthusiasm easing away the hesitation she’s been holding onto. She fidgets with the edge of her sweater, a shy smile creeping onto her face as she starts to talk. “So... I was at my usual coffee shop, you know, the one with the really good chai lattes,” she begins, her voice picking up speed as she gets lost in the memory. “And then, out of nowhere, this ridiculously attractive man just... walks up to me, like he’s in some kind of rom-com or something. And he... he asked me out.”

You lean back, eyes wide, soaking in every detail of her story. “No way,” you whisper, your excitement infectious. “What did you do? What did you say?”

“Well, I said yes, obviously!” she chuckles, though there's an underlying nervousness. “But... I felt so... I don't know. Conflicted. This just doesn’t happen to girls like me.”

“Girls like you?” Your expression shifts from curiosity to confusion, brow furrowing as you try to make sense of her words. “Penelope Garcia, you are one of the most beautiful, kind-hearted, brilliant people I have ever met in my life.” You lean in, your voice gentle but insistent, making sure she understands every word. “ ‘Girls like you’ deserve the world and more. Don’t you dare think otherwise for a second.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, your words hitting her like a warm, unexpected wave. Her smile softens, and she blinks a few times, trying to brush off the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “You really think so?” she whispers, her voice almost breaking with vulnerability.

“Are you kidding?” you say, a grin spreading across your face as you reach out to squeeze her hand. “James is the lucky one here, Penelope. Trust me on that.” 

She squeezes your hand back, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she ducks her head a little. “So, you’re saying I should go on this date?” she asks, the nervousness wavering just slightly in her voice. “Because... Derek didn’t seem so sure.”

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “Derek is a man, and men are weird,” you say with a knowing smirk. “I bet he’s got some strange alpha-male possessive thing going on. It’s like, in his DNA or something, to protect his pack. Don’t listen to him. You should absolutely go on this date.”

Penelope’s smile widens, and she lets out a soft, relieved laugh. “Well, when you put it like that... maybe you’re right. I mean, he is just one guy. And he did buy me a coffee...” 

“Exactly!” you exclaim, nodding fervently. “You’ve got a very attractive guy who bought you coffee and wants to spend time with you. And, Penelope, you deserve to have fun. So don’t overthink it, okay? Go on the date, be your amazing self, and if Derek has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

She chuckles at that, the tension finally leaving her shoulders, and the smile that spreads across her face is brighter than ever. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. I’ll go on the date.” 

“Good!” you say, beaming. “And when he inevitably falls head over heels for you, I expect a full play-by-play report.”

“Deal,” Penelope says, grinning, the confidence returning to her eyes as she envisions a night filled with possibilities.

When you walked out of Penelope’s office, a spring in your step from the lighthearted conversation, you made your way back to your desk in the bullpen. As you approached your workspace, something immediately caught your eye — a fresh mug of hot coffee sitting on your desk, the steam curling upward in delicate wisps. A secret smile spread across your face as you set your things down and wrapped your fingers around the warm mug, the scent of your favorite brew filling the air.

You didn’t need to guess who’d placed it there. Glancing up, your eyes found Spencer across the bullpen, and sure enough, he was looking at you with that sweet, soft smile that always made your heart skip a beat. The quiet gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes about the thoughtful, caring man he was.

You mouthed a silent “thank you,” lifting the mug slightly as a toast of gratitude, and playfully blew him a kiss. Spencer’s cheeks flushed that adorable shade of pink that always surfaced whenever you flirted with him, and he shyly ducked his head for a moment before glancing back up to meet your eyes. With a wink and a barely contained grin, he turned back to his work, trying — and failing — to hide just how pleased he was to have made your morning a little brighter. 

The sweetness of the morning, with its light teasing and the comfort of Spencer’s coffee, was short-lived. The moment Hotch called everyone into the conference room, a palpable shift in energy settled over the team. You quickly gathered your things and followed the others into the room, the coffee that had moments ago been a small joy now forgotten as you braced yourself for the case that awaited.

On the screen in the conference room was the face of a young woman — a bright, smiling 19-year-old with curly brown hair and freckles that dotted her cheeks. The smile in her photo seemed hauntingly out of place for what followed. Abby Connors, the name beneath the picture read. Hotch stepped forward, his face grave, and began the briefing.

“Abby Connors was a 19-year-old freshman at the University of Florida,” he explained. “She left home a little over a week ago to move into her dorm, but she never made it back. Her parents reported her missing, and after three days of searching, joggers found her body near a park in the Everglades, near an area the locals refer to as 'Alligator Alley.'”

A murmur rippled through the room as the next image appeared — a crime scene photo, one that showed just half of Abby’s body. You instinctively held your breath as you took in the gruesome details: everything beneath her waist was missing, consumed by the predators that roamed the swampy area. But it was the condition of the remaining part of her body that made the room go eerily silent.

“She was found with an inverted pentagram carved into her chest,” Hotch continued grimly, pointing to the markings on her torso. “Her fingers were all cut off at the second knuckle, and her throat was slit cleanly.”

You exchanged uneasy glances with your teammates, the horrifying nature of the crime setting in as you processed each detail. “So what are we dealing with?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Some kind of satanic cult?”

Rossi, who had been leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, shook his head. “It's not as simple as that. The idea of satanic cults operating as organized serial killer groups has been widely debunked.” He sat up, his expression thoughtful but firm. “The satanic panic of the ‘80s and ‘90s sensationalized a lot of things, but ritualistic killings like this? They don’t happen often in the way people think.”

“So, not a cult,” JJ mused aloud. “But this is still a ritualistic killing, right? The pentagram, the mutilation... it’s not random.”

“Absolutely ritualistic,” Spencer added, nodding in agreement. “The precision of the throat slitting, the removal of the fingers, the inverted pentagram... they all suggest that this was premeditated, and that the unsub wanted to send a specific message with Abby’s murder.”

“This type of ritualistic behavior can escalate,” Derek said, leaning over the table, a serious look in his eyes. “It’s got all the hallmarks of a kill that’s part of a larger motive. If we don’t catch this guy, he’s likely to do it again.”

“Which means we’re looking at a potential serial killer in the making,” Emily concluded, her voice grim. “Someone with a specific set of rituals and a willingness to mutilate and kill.”

Rossi cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him as he spoke with an almost reverent gravity. “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate,” he quoted in a low voice, his Italian rolling off his tongue smoothly. Seeing the questioning looks on some of your faces, he translated: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

A silence fell over the room as the weight of those words hung in the air. You knew, as did everyone else in the room, that this case was going to be dark, disturbing, and an all-consuming race to catch a killer who seemed to find something meaningful — perhaps even sacred — in the brutality of his crimes.

And with that, the team set into motion, knowing that every second mattered if they were going to save another girl from meeting the same fate as Abby Connors.

—

After the team closes the case, the team sits in relative silence on the jet, each member deep in thought, processing the horrors. The soft hum of the plane’s engine provides a strange comfort, and the tension of the day slowly begins to ease. Morgan sits across from Rossi, resting his elbows on his knees, staring off into the distance. Rossi watches him for a moment before speaking up.

“You did good work out there,” Rossi says, his voice steady and calm, the kind of voice that always has a way of grounding everyone. 

Morgan looks up, giving a half-smile, but there’s a heaviness behind his eyes. “Yeah... but you know how it is, man. No matter how many of these cases we close, it never feels like it’s enough.” He shakes his head, running a hand over his face as if to brush away the exhaustion. “I just keep thinking about Abby’s family. They’ll never be the same.”

Rossi leans back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap, a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah, it’s tough. But we gave them answers. And sometimes, that’s all we can do. You know as well as I do, it’s not about winning every battle. It’s about making sure we fight it.”

Morgan nods, his jaw tightening as he absorbs Rossi’s words. “I know,” he says, voice a little softer now. “It’s just... there’s so much darkness out there. And some days, it feels like it’s winning.”

Rossi’s expression shifts into something more reflective, a small, wise smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe it feels like that,” he admits, “but the fact that it bothers you — the fact that it bothers all of us — that’s what makes the difference, Morgan. It means we’re still out there, shining a light in the darkness.”

Morgan's shoulders relax a little, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I guess you’re right. Just gotta keep fighting, right?”

Rossi raises a glass of bourbon from his side table, offering a silent toast. “To fighting the good fight.”

Morgan grins, and they clink glasses in a quiet, shared moment of understanding. The jet continues its journey through the night, a small point of light against the vast expanse of sky.

—

Meanwhile, Penelope walks arm-in-arm with James, her laughter bright and infectious as it echoes down the sidewalk. They reach the front steps of her apartment building, and she turns to face him. “Well, this was... really nice,” she says, giving him a genuine smile. 

James grins back at her, and for a second, he leans in as if he’s about to kiss her. But at the last second, he pulls back, laughing playfully. “Sorry,” he says, scratching his head sheepishly. “Didn’t want to be too forward.”

Garcia giggles, shaking her head at his little fake-out. “You almost had me there,” she teases, turning to fish for her keys in her bag. “Well, goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Penelope,” he says, stepping back and starting to walk away, giving her one last wave. 

As she turns to unlock her door, James suddenly stops, a strange stillness in the way he holds himself. He calls out to her over his shoulder, voice casual but loud enough to make her pause. “Hey, Garcia?”

Penelope looks up, smiling as she begins to open her door. “Yeah?”

James turns fully toward her, the smile gone from his face, replaced with an unsettling calm. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all night,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket.

Before Garcia can even process what’s happening, James pulls out a gun, his movements quick and fluid. The world seems to slow down around her — her eyes widen, her mouth opens to scream, but the sound never comes. 

And then, in an instant, the gun fires. The crack of the shot echoes through the empty street, and Penelope’s body jerks back, eyes wide with shock and pain as she collapses to the ground, her keys scattering across the pavement. 

James stands there for a moment, the smoke from the barrel of his gun curling into the night air. He watches as she gasps for breath, a cruel smile curling on his lips before he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving Penelope lying there, her life slipping away on the cold, unforgiving ground.

—

Back on the jet, you lean back in your seat, facing Spencer with a thoughtful look. “You know, I keep wondering what Penelope’s date is like,” you muse aloud, spinning your half-empty cup of coffee between your hands. “I hope she’s having fun. She deserves it.”

Spencer’s brows knit in mild surprise, his mouth opening to respond, but before he can even utter a word, Derek’s voice cuts across the cabin. “Wait — hold up.” He’s leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide and brimming with concern. “Garcia actually went on that date?”

“Yeah, she did.” You nod, meeting his incredulous stare with a small smile. “I told her to go for it. She’s gotta put herself out there, right? No reason for her to hold back just because you’re all... alpha about it.”

“Alpha?” Derek echoes, looking around at the others as if searching for an ally. “I’m not... okay, look, I just want to make sure she’s safe. And how do you even know if this guy’s legit? Did you see him? Talk to him?”

You wave a hand dismissively. “No, but she deserves to have fun, Derek. She seemed excited, and it’s not like she doesn’t have a good head on her shoulders. I think it’s great that she’s taking a chance on something new.”

Emily nods along in agreement, leaning back with a relaxed smile. “I think it’s sweet. And Penelope isn’t some naïve kid — she’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself.”

JJ chimes in with a bright smile, “Yeah, and besides, it’s not like she’s going to let someone walk all over her. She’ll know if something’s up. And if he treats her right, then it’s all the better for her. Maybe it’ll turn into something special.”

Rossi, watching the whole exchange with an amused smirk, adds, “Sometimes people surprise you. And sometimes that surprise is exactly what someone needs to get out of their comfort zone. Our girl deserves someone to treat her well.”

Derek’s shoulders stay tense, and he shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “I get that, but... I just want to make sure she’s happy. That’s all. You know Garcia — she’s got a big heart, and I don’t want some guy messing with it.”

You reach over and pat Derek on the shoulder, a soft smile on your lips. “I get it, really. But maybe you should trust her on this. Penelope’s stronger than you think, and she’s allowed to take some risks. It’s not always about protecting her, Derek — sometimes it’s about letting her live.”

Spencer, who’s been listening quietly, finally speaks up. “She’ll be fine, Derek. And she’s lucky to have someone who cares as much as you do. But I think what she really needs right now is support... and maybe for us to just be happy for her.”

Derek looks around at everyone, the tension in his expression easing as he sees the genuine support in the eyes of his teammates. He lets out a reluctant chuckle, running a hand over his shaved head. “Alright, alright. I guess I’m just overprotective.”

“Just a bit,” you tease with a playful nudge.

“Fine,” Derek relents, lifting his hands in surrender. “But if this guy hurts her...”

“Then we’ll all be there to kick his ass,” Emily assures with a wink, and the team laughs, the conversation flowing into lighter banter, the tension dissipating as they talk about how much they hope Penelope enjoys her date — all of them unknowingly letting go of their worry while the truth of the night's events remains just out of reach.

You leaned into Spencer, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer until your head rested comfortably against him. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, a silent show of support and affection.

The chatter of your teammates surrounded you, playful jokes about first-date jitters and guesses about how Penelope’s night might be going. It was one of those rare lighthearted moments that made the job feel less heavy. And as you closed your eyes for just a moment, feeling the calm of Spencer’s presence, everything felt okay.

The jet touched down smoothly, and you straightened up, reluctantly leaving the warmth of Spencer’s side as everyone prepared to disembark. But as soon as the wheels hit the ground, Hotch’s phone buzzed loudly against the table. He picked it up immediately, his expression going from relaxed to steely in an instant as he answered.

“Hotchner,” he said, his voice flat and professional.

The team began to gather their things, their attention still mostly on wrapping up the casual conversation, until Hotch’s face went stark white, his eyes narrowing as he listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. His mouth opened slightly, and you saw the shock in his eyes before he steeled himself again.

“What happened?” he demanded, his tone shifting from its usual calm to something far more urgent. He stood up abruptly, stepping away from the team, but you could all still hear him as the rest of the plane went silent, each of you glancing at one another with rising concern. Spencer’s hand instinctively found yours, and you squeezed it, anxiety blooming in your chest.

“Where was she?” Hotch’s voice was clipped, a mixture of alarm and anger. “When?”

You exchanged quick glances with your teammates. It wasn’t normal to see Hotch like this, and that fear in his voice made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Is she...?” Hotch stopped, and there was a pause, a terrible pause that seemed to stretch on forever. You held your breath, waiting, every second feeling like a lifetime.

“Understood. We’re on our way.” Hotch’s voice was low, tight with a struggle to maintain control. He hung up without another word, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in his muscles.

He turned back to the team, his expression grim, and you knew, you just knew, that whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.

Hotch’s voice was like ice, cutting through the stunned silence of the jet as he delivered the news that seemed impossible to process: “Garcia’s been shot. She’s in the hospital, in surgery.”

The world seemed to tilt, a rush of chaos and confusion drowning out everything else. In an instant, you and the rest of the team scrambled to grab your bags, shock and fear flashing in everyone’s eyes. It was like all at once, the air was sucked out of the room, and before anyone could fully understand what was happening, you were rushing down the steps of the jet. The roar of the engines and the slap of your feet against the tarmac seemed distant, muffled, as adrenaline took over. 

Within seconds, you piled into the SUVs, slamming the doors shut as the engines roared to life, and the cars sped off toward the hospital. The journey felt agonizingly long, despite the breakneck speed. No one spoke, but the tension in the car was palpable — every breath was shallow, every heartbeat loud in your ears. Your hand was clasped tightly in Spencer’s, and he held on as if anchoring you to reality, but all you could think about was Garcia and the thought of losing her. 

When you finally pulled up to the hospital, everyone practically flew out of the cars, running toward the entrance. The white lights of the waiting room were harsh and sterile, amplifying the dread that hung over the team. Hotch was the first to speak to the receptionist, his voice firm and demanding answers, but the only thing they knew was that Penelope was in surgery — no word on her condition, no updates, and, most importantly, no word on who had done this to her. 

And so you waited. 

The team paced, hands running through hair, fists clenching and unclenching as they tried to contain the storm of emotions within. The minutes stretched into hours, and the silence felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on each of you. Spencer held you close, one arm wrapped tightly around you as you buried your face into his chest, tears streaming down your face. He murmured gentle reassurances, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back, but his own eyes were red-rimmed and his voice strained, betraying his fear. 

Across the room, Derek’s frustration finally boiled over, and he lashed out, yelling at a nurse who could provide no new information. “What the hell do you mean, you don’t know anything? That’s our friend in there! You have to know something!” His voice was raw, the anger masking his pain, but before he could cause more of a scene, Hotch intervened, gripping his shoulder firmly and steering him outside. 

The tension in the room didn't lessen, only growing heavier in Derek’s absence. Emily sat with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped tightly together, staring at the ground as if willing time to move faster. Rossi paced back and forth, his jaw tight, not a word leaving his mouth, but the anger and sorrow on his face spoke volumes. JJ stood near you, hugging her arms to her chest, eyes fixed on the swinging doors that led to the surgery wing, willing them to open with some kind of good news.

Hours passed in that awful purgatory, time stretching and distorting until it seemed like you’d been waiting an eternity. And then, finally, a nurse came out and told you that one person could go back to see her. As a unit, the decision was made for Hotch to go — Garcia had named him her emergency contact, and he was the steady hand, the one who would be able to bring back the information without being overwhelmed by the storm of emotions all of you were feeling. 

The waiting resumed, and all you could do was cling to Spencer tighter, the fear and worry seeming to squeeze the breath from your lungs. 

When Hotch emerged from behind the doors some time later, his face was unreadable, a mask of professionalism over whatever emotions he was truly feeling. The rest of you gathered around him quickly, every muscle tensed as you waited for him to say something, anything, about Garcia. 

“Garcia’s going to make it,” he said, his voice low but firm. You let out a shuddering breath of relief, and the room seemed to collectively exhale. “She’s stable, but...” He paused, glancing at each of you, and in his eyes, you saw a darkness that made your stomach drop.

“It was her date who shot her,” he said quietly. “James. But his real name... is Jason Clark Battle.”

The name seemed to hang in the air like a curse, and it took a moment for the shock to register. And when it did, Derek’s expression twisted with a rage so violent it was almost frightening. “No,” he said, shaking his head as if refusing to believe it. “No, no, no—” His voice rose to a shout, and before anyone could react, he lunged toward you, face twisted with anger and pain. “You told her to go! You told her to go with him!”

His hands reached out to grab you, but before he could touch you, Rossi and Emily were on him, grabbing his arms and holding him back. “Derek, stop!” Rossi’s voice was sharp, his grip firm as he held Morgan in place. “This isn’t their fault!”

“Let go of me!” Derek struggled against their hold, his voice hoarse with fury, his eyes wild and filled with a grief that had no outlet. “I should’ve stopped her... I should’ve...”

Hotch stepped between you and Derek, his face set in a stern, controlled mask. “Enough,” he said, his tone brokering no argument. “This is not how we handle this. We find this man, and we make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

It felt like everything around you was falling apart, the walls closing in as the weight of the world crashed down on you, pressing in from all sides. Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to the one person who could always make things feel right — Spencer. You reached out to him, seeking his comfort, his steady reassurance. But instead of the familiar warmth of his embrace, you were met with a coldness that hit you like a blow to the chest.

He stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a look you’d never seen before — something between shock, hurt, and a kind of betrayal that cut deep. The warmth was gone, replaced by an expression that made your stomach drop. 

“Spence?” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely more than a whimper. You felt your world spiraling, desperately trying to grasp onto something to steady yourself. 

Spencer’s eyes darted to the floor for a moment, then back to you, and he shook his head, his expression clouded with confusion and anger. “You told her to go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with pain. It wasn’t an accusation, not quite, but it felt like one all the same. He kept backing away from you, his face crumpling into an anguish you’d never seen before, like he was fighting to hold himself together. And then, without another word, he turned and stormed out of the waiting room, his footsteps echoing.

“Spencer!” JJ called after him, her voice urgent, but he didn’t stop. Without hesitation, she rushed to follow him, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to piece together what had just happened, a sob choking in your throat. It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, and you were falling, tumbling into a void. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging your own body, trying to stave off the cold emptiness that seemed to seep into your bones. You wanted to scream, to cry out and make sense of the look in Spencer’s eyes, the pain in his voice. But all that came out was a soft, broken whisper.

“Spencer...”

Rossi was there in an instant, a steadying hand on your shoulder, guiding you gently to a nearby chair as the reality of the situation crashed over you in relentless waves. Emily crouched down in front of you, her face tight with concern as she spoke softly, her words trying to break through the fog in your mind. But you could hardly hear her. The only thing echoing in your head were Spencer’s words — “You told her to go” — a statement that seemed to slice through your heart, over and over again.

—

You left the hospital soon after Spencer did. The cold night air hit your face as you stepped outside, but the chill did little to clear your head. Everything felt like a blur — Spencer’s words, the look on his face, Derek’s anger — it all played on a loop in your mind, each second replaying with sharper edges, digging deeper into your heart. You didn’t know how to feel, how to process the whirlwind of fear, guilt, and confusion. But one thing was clear: you had to find the man who hurt Penelope.

The next morning came all too quickly. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise when you arrived at the BAU. The bullpen was already a flurry of activity, the team moving with a frantic energy that matched your own desperate need to do something, anything, that could bring justice for Penelope. But as soon as you stepped inside, the adrenaline wasn’t enough to mask the raw pain that hit you when you saw Spencer.

He sat at his desk, fingers typing furiously at his keyboard, his face drawn tight with concentration. You stood there for a moment, holding your breath, waiting for him to look up — to give you some sign, any sign, that you could start to fix whatever had broken between you the night before. But Spencer wouldn’t look at you. It was as if you didn’t exist, like he’d built an invisible wall around himself, and you couldn’t break through. The red puffiness around your eyes was the only outward sign of the sleepless night you’d had, but the exhaustion in your soul ran much deeper.

When you walked past JJ’s desk, she reached out and touched your arm gently, her eyes full of concern, the pity unmistakable. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to offer comfort, but you shook your head, swallowing hard. The last thing you could bear right now was pity. Not when you had to keep it together for Penelope.

The rest of the team looked at you with the same expressions — sympathetic, worried, but no one knew what to say. And the truth was, neither did you. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, feeling the familiar sting of guilt rise in your throat, and forced yourself to look away, trying to focus on the task at hand. It was time to work, and that was something you could still do. Something you could control.

Well, the whole team except for Derek. 

Every time he walked by, you could feel his eyes burning into you, his anger practically crackling like static in the air between you. And he didn’t hold back, either. With each passing hour, he took every chance to let you know exactly what he thought, throwing thinly-veiled digs and outright accusations whenever he could. 

“This is your fault, you know,” he muttered under his breath when you passed each other in the hallway. “You’re the one who pushed her into going out with that psychopath. If she’d just listened to me, she’d be safe.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as his words stabbed into you like a knife, but you didn’t reply. You couldn’t. You just kept walking, heading back to your desk with that guilt clawing up your throat, making it hard to breathe. There was no time to argue, no room to let Derek’s words take over. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shut them out.

And then there were the moments when Derek couldn’t hold it in, when his anger boiled over and his voice rose loud enough for the whole team to hear. “You know that if she dies... if she dies, it’s on you,” he spat, his eyes burning with a fury so sharp it left you feeling gutted. “Her blood’s on your hands. Because you thought it was a good idea to let her go out with some random guy.”

You could feel the eyes of the rest of the team on you whenever it happened, the tension in the room growing thick and heavy as they tried to balance the grief for Penelope and the pain of watching their family fall apart. JJ would try to step in, her voice gentle but firm as she said, “Derek, now’s not the time—” or Hotch would give him a stern look, that unspoken command to drop it. But nothing seemed to get through to him, and each word he threw at you landed like a punch, his grief and fear bleeding out as anger directed at you.

You couldn’t argue with him. You didn’t know how to defend yourself. How could you, when deep down, a part of you agreed with every word he said? 

So you did the only thing you could — you kept your head down and worked, staring at files until your eyes burned, listening to updates and following every lead until you were numb to everything except the hope that finding Jason Clark Battle would somehow make it right. You tried to drown out Derek’s voice, drown out the guilt, drown out the sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you hadn’t encouraged Penelope, things wouldn’t have gone this way. But no matter how hard you tried to bury it, Derek’s words followed you, hanging over you like a dark shadow. 

And the work continued, relentless and desperate, with everyone pushing forward to find the man who’d hurt Penelope. But the team was fractured, split between their grief and their anger, and the chasm between you and Derek seemed to widen with every word he threw your way.

Even as you worked, though, you could feel Spencer nearby — that familiar presence that you could always sense, whether you were looking at him or not. But this time, it felt different, like an ache just below the surface, a heavy, unspoken rift. He still wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t speak to you, even as you shared the same space, both working to the same goal. And no one pushed him. No one had the time or the energy to force him to talk through his emotions, not when there was a dangerous man on the loose and a life hanging in the balance.

But every time you heard Spencer’s voice — every rapid-fire observation, every note of urgency — it felt like a reminder of how things had changed in the space of a night. You worked side by side, but worlds apart, both desperate to save Garcia, but more than that, desperate to find your way back to each other.

And so, the hours wore on, a relentless, all-consuming search for Jason Clark Battle, with every member of the team driven by the same furious need to bring him to justice. Because in the midst of all the uncertainty and hurt, one thing was clear: no one was going to let him get away with what he’d done to Penelope. Not while any of you still had breath left to fight.

The team found Jason Clark Battle quickly, all things considered. The determination to bring him to justice — to make him pay for what he'd done to Penelope — fueled every moment, every step, every search through records and combing of evidence. But as the moment of his arrest neared, it became a new kind of challenge: keeping Derek Morgan away. 

Hotch had to physically block him from joining the takedown, knowing all too well that if Derek got his hands on the man who shot Penelope, it wouldn’t end in an arrest. “Stand down, Morgan,” Hotch had ordered, his voice like a steel blade, cutting through the thick fog of Derek’s rage. It took Rossi and Emily to finally pull him back, their hands firm on his shoulders as Derek cursed and seethed, every inch of his body vibrating with the need to rip Battle apart. But they couldn't afford to lose two team members to the fallout, and Morgan was forced to stay back, simmering with fury as the rest of the team moved in.

When Jason Clark Battle was finally caught, subdued, and taken into custody, there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing that the man who hurt Penelope would face justice. But the victory was bitter, the relief tainted by the damage left in the wake of what had happened. The case might have been closed, but for all of you, it didn’t feel like a win — not when someone you loved was still lying in a hospital bed, healing from wounds she never should have gotten.

Once the reports were turned in and the team was officially dismissed, you watched as everyone else gathered to visit Penelope. There was a sort of reverence in how they spoke of her, quiet smiles and gentle jokes exchanged as they planned to bring flowers, chocolate, and anything else that would bring a smile to her face. But you couldn't go. The thought of stepping into that hospital room, of meeting her eyes, of seeing the pain and understanding what your advice had led to... it felt unbearable. You couldn’t face her, couldn’t let her see how broken you felt, knowing how close you’d come to losing her because you thought you were doing something good.

So, while your teammates headed to the hospital, ready to surround Penelope with love and support, you went home. The silence of your apartment was suffocating, and it took everything in you to not collapse under the weight of your own regret. The emptiness of being away from the team, from Penelope, only deepened your guilt. But it was better than showing up and making things worse — better than her having to see your face and be reminded of everything that happened. 

Instead, you did what little you could from afar. You sent gift baskets filled with all of her favorite snacks — crunchy caramel popcorn, brightly wrapped candies, a couple of silly trinkets you hoped would make her laugh. You sent care packages with magazines, crossword puzzles, and soft blankets she could curl up with while she healed. You tried to send all the comfort you couldn’t bring yourself to give in person, every basket and letter a quiet apology you weren’t sure you deserved to offer. You only hoped she knew that, despite the distance, you were thinking of her. That you were sorry. 

And as the days went on, and Penelope stayed in that hospital, you wondered if she could ever forgive you — if one day, when she was better and things returned to some semblance of normalcy, she might understand that all you wanted was for her to find happiness. That, even though your advice had gone so terribly wrong, it had come from a place of love. But the uncertainty of her forgiveness lingered, hanging over you like a cloud, and all you could do was hope that, in time, the rift could be healed.

Until then, you stayed away, waiting for the moment you could finally make amends — if that moment ever came.

—

The next workday, you sat at your desk, your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, but your mind felt miles away. The sound of your own heartbeat seemed loud in the quiet of the bullpen, pounding relentlessly in your ears as you willed yourself to focus on something — anything — other than the turmoil of the last few days. You barely slept, and the fatigue sat heavy on your shoulders, making every moment feel sluggish, disconnected from reality. The tension still hung in the air, lingering after Penelope’s shooting, and it felt like every step you took was on eggshells, threatening to crack under the weight of all you hadn’t said. 

You didn't hear Derek's approach at first, lost as you were in your own thoughts. But when you did catch the sight of his broad form looming in your peripheral vision, your whole body tensed up instinctively, bracing for what you knew would be another wave of anger, another round of accusations that would leave you feeling raw and exposed.

Here it comes, you thought. The guilt clenched in your chest as you waited for the onslaught, already picturing the words he’d throw at you, the blame you knew you deserved.

But then, you looked up, and the expression on Derek's face made you pause. It wasn’t what you expected. The hard lines of anger that had been etched there were gone, replaced by something softer, something regretful. He stood before you, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, his hands shoved into his pockets, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to find the right words.

“Hey,” he finally said, his voice low and rough with emotion.

“Hey.” You nodded back, your voice barely more than a whisper, your body still taut like a rubber band pulled too tight.

Derek glanced down for a moment, and when he looked back up, there was an apology written all over his face. “I, uh... I came to talk to you about... you know.” He trailed off, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “About what I said. What I did. And... I’m sorry.”

You blinked, the words hitting you like a punch you didn’t see coming. “You’re... sorry?” you repeated, trying to make sense of it, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I... I was angry, and scared, and I let it all out on you, and that wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, what happened to Garcia. You were just being a good friend.” He paused, letting out a long, heavy breath. “And I guess... in a way, I’m mad at myself. Mad that I couldn’t keep her safe, that I didn’t know who this guy was, that I couldn’t stop it... so I put all that on you. And I’m sorry.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any trace of the rage you’d seen before, but all you saw now was sincerity, and pain, and a vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to find there. Derek Morgan — the strongest person you knew — was admitting his own fear and guilt to you, and it felt like the world was tilting just a little bit on its axis.

The tightness in your throat made it hard to speak, but you forced the words out, your voice cracking around the edges. “I... I get it. I mean, I don’t blame you for being angry, Derek. And I’m sorry too. I never would’ve... I never thought something like this would happen.” You looked down, feeling your eyes burn with tears you didn’t want to shed, not here, not now. “If I could take it back, I would. All of it.”

Derek stepped closer, and before you could react, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t put this on yourself. Penelope’s strong. She’s gonna be okay. And you didn’t do anything wrong — you were just looking out for her, just like I was.” He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his voice softening. “We’re all just trying to do right by each other, you know? And sometimes we mess up. But that’s not on you.”

The tears that you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you bit down on your lip, nodding as you tried to gather yourself. “Thanks, Derek,” you whispered, managing a small, shaky smile. “I just... I just want her to be okay.”

“She will be,” he assured you, his voice full of quiet confidence. “She’s got all of us in her corner. And I know it’s hard to believe, but... we’re gonna get through this. Together.”

He gave your shoulder one last squeeze before letting go, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a small sliver of relief, like the weight pressing down on you had been lifted just slightly. 

“Derek...?” you said, your voice small and timid, almost afraid to ask the question that had been weighing on your heart since you’d stepped back into the bullpen. 

“Yeah, baby?” he answered, his voice gentle and warm, and the nickname — your old nickname — made you smile, if only for a moment. Spencer had been the one to call you that more often lately, and hearing it from Derek felt like a return to something familiar, something safe.

You took a breath, biting down on your lip as you looked down at your hands, your fingers nervously twisting together. “Have you... have you talked to Spencer?”

Derek’s expression darkened, and he sighed deeply, the sound heavy and full of exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, the weariness showing in the lines around his eyes, and when he looked at you again, there was a sadness there that made your heart sink even further. “No, mama,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Pretty boy hasn’t really talked to anyone. He’s got something going on in that big head of his, but he’s not letting us in yet.”

You nodded slowly, trying to keep your face neutral, but you knew Derek could see the worry in your eyes. The way Spencer had looked at you — the way he’d walked away from you — it was like losing a part of yourself, and the uncertainty of not knowing where you stood made it so much worse. And now, knowing that he wasn’t talking to anyone, wasn’t letting anyone in... it made you feel like you were watching him slip further and further away, with no way to reach him.

Derek watched you for a moment, then reached out and placed a comforting hand on your arm. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. “Whatever’s going on with him, it’s not about you, alright? He’ll come around. You know how Spencer is — sometimes he just needs to get in his head before he can come out again.”

“But what if... what if he doesn't?” you asked, your voice breaking on the last word, the fear you’d been trying so hard to suppress finally spilling out. “What if he never forgives me, Derek? What if—”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Derek cut in gently but firmly, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “You know how much you mean to him. He’s just... processing. And it might take him some time, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. Just give him space to figure it out. And when he’s ready, he’ll come to you.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding, trying to hold on to Derek’s words. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said, though the doubt still lingered.

Derek smiled softly, a warmth in his eyes as he gave your arm one last squeeze. “Of course I’m right,” he said, his tone lightening. “And in the meantime, you’ve got me and the rest of the team. You’re not alone, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, trying to believe it. “Thanks, Derek.”

“Anytime, mama,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “Now let’s get that coffee. We’ve got a lot to do, and moping around ain’t gonna help nobody.” 

And with that, he led you to the corner of the bullpen, and you did your best to push the worry from your mind, to focus on what you could do here and now, hoping that Spencer would eventually find his way back to you.

—

The day Penelope returned to work felt almost like a holiday. The bullpen was transformed, bursting with bright colors and streamers that cascaded down from the ceiling. Balloons, in every vibrant hue imaginable, were tied to the chairs, and the break room was packed with all her favorite snacks and drinks — colorful cupcakes, glittery cookies, and more caffeine than the doctor would ever allow. The team had gone all out, putting together a grand welcome fit for the one and only Penelope Garcia. The room was buzzing with laughter and excitement as she entered, everyone cheering loudly as she walked through the doors, wide-eyed and grinning.

It was exactly the kind of entrance Penelope deserved. And as she hugged each person, the joy on her face made the space feel warmer, brighter. But you stood in the back, a small smile on your lips, content to watch from a distance. You clapped along with everyone else, but you kept to yourself, too aware of the gnawing guilt that still sat in your chest. It was wonderful to see Penelope smiling, to see her back on her feet and surrounded by the love of her family. But being there, knowing what you’d encouraged her to do, left you feeling like an outsider, not quite sure where you fit in anymore.

When Penelope finally got to you, it took all your courage to step forward and pull her into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, and you clung to her a little tighter than you’d intended. The relief of finally seeing her in person, of knowing she was safe and whole, made your throat tighten with emotion. 

Penelope returned the hug with a strength that surprised you, squeezing you tightly as if she didn’t want to let go. “I’m just happy to see you, hon,” she whispered, her voice warm and forgiving. “It’s been too long.”

You pulled back, offering a small, apologetic smile, but the warmth in her eyes made it clear that there was no anger there, no bitterness — just pure gratitude and love. And for a fleeting moment, you felt the overwhelming urge to spill everything, to apologize for not visiting, to explain the guilt that had been eating away at you. But Penelope gave you a knowing look, a slight shake of her head, as if to say not now. And you understood. This moment was for her — for the joy of being back, for the healing that still needed to happen. The deeper conversation could wait.

But as the celebration continued and the week went on, you still kept your distance. You showed up, of course, participated in the day-to-day, but any time Penelope tried to engage with you beyond work matters, you found ways to cut the conversation short, to avoid anything that could bring up what happened. You didn’t want to push her; you didn’t want to burden her with the weight you were carrying, the idea that anything you say could put her in danger. And you could see she was trying to give you space, to let you come to her on your own terms. But the longer you avoided it, the harder it became to find a way back to the easy friendship you once had.

By the end of the week, it seemed Penelope had had enough. As you were leaving the office one evening, walking toward the elevators, she appeared beside you with a determined look on her face.

“Going somewhere?” she asked, planting herself firmly in your path, hands on her hips.

“Just... heading home,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the way she was looking at you made your heart skip a nervous beat.

“Well, change of plans,” Penelope said cheerfully, not giving you a chance to argue. “You’re coming over tonight. We need some serious girl talk, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Penny, I—” You opened your mouth to protest, but the look on her face was unwavering, her smile patient but insistent, like she’d already made up her mind and wasn’t going to let you wriggle your way out of it.

“Ah ah ah, don’t even try it,” she said, holding up a finger in playful warning. “We’re way overdue for some quality time, and if I have to drag you to my place myself, I will. And believe me, I’ve got the strength to do it.” She gave you a pointed look, raising her eyebrows.

You let out a sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders slowly give way. How could you say no? Penelope was right; you did need this. And no matter how afraid you were of having that conversation, of putting her in more danger, you couldn’t keep running from her. “Okay,” you said finally, giving her a small smile. “I’ll come over.”

“Good!” she exclaimed, beaming as she linked her arm with yours, pulling you into the elevator with a bounce in her step. “I’ll see you at seven. And trust me, it’s gonna be like old times. Pinky swear.”

And just like that, with Penelope by your side, the world felt just a little bit brighter again.

Being with Penelope felt so easy, so natural — just like it had always been. From the moment you stepped into her apartment, it was as though nothing had changed, as if the heavy cloud of the last few weeks wasn’t hanging over you. She’d set up her place just the way you remembered, warm colors, quirky decor, fairy lights draped over bookshelves, and the familiar scent of lavender. And Penelope, as if sensing your hesitation, knew exactly how to guide you back into a comfortable rhythm.

It started with laughter, of course. The kind only she could pull out of you, a sound that seemed to break down the walls you’d built around your heart. She leaned back on her sofa, legs curled under her as she went on about the latest gossip in her stack of magazines, her voice rising with excitement and exaggeration. 

“Okay, so tell me this,” Penelope started, waving around a magazine with glossy pages. “How is it possible that Bruce Willis can just get hotter every year? It’s like the laws of nature don’t apply to this man!”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I guess some people are just blessed like that.”

“And don't even get me started on what I saw in the office last week,” she continued, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “I swear to you, I saw a hickey on Hotch’s neck. A hickey. On. Aaron Hotchner’s. Neck.”

You nearly choked on your drink, the image catching you completely off guard. “No way!”

“Yes way!” she nodded, her eyes wide with the thrill of gossip. “I’m telling you, our stoic unit chief has a spicy side. And speaking of spicy sides, have you seen how Emily and JJ have been looking at each other lately? I mean, come on, are they not totally vibing?”

The conversation flowed easily, effortlessly, and before long, you found yourself leaning back, laughing, the warmth of Penelope’s company soothing all those frayed edges that had been gnawing away at you for so long. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. It was fun to catch up, to just be with her, to hear about all the little things you’d missed — the world outside the darkness you’d been living in. And you could see how much Penelope was thriving, back in her element, glowing with that infectious positivity you’d always loved about her. 

But eventually, it happened. The laughter faded, and the unspoken truth sat between you like a presence too big to ignore. Penelope’s expression softened, her eyes meeting yours with that gentle understanding you’d come to know so well. “Okay, hon,” she said softly, resting her hand on yours. “We’ve gotta talk about it. About what’s been eating you up inside.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to make an excuse, but it was like the dam broke before you could stop it. All the guilt, the fear, the shame — it all came flooding out. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t stop the trembling as you finally voiced the things you’d been holding onto for so long.

“Penny, I... I don’t know how to say this,” you started, your voice cracking. “But I’m so sorry. I... I didn’t know, I couldn’t know what was going to happen, but I feel like it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t told you to go, if I hadn’t encouraged you to see him, then maybe you wouldn’t have...”

“Stop,” Penelope said firmly, squeezing your hand. “Just stop right there.” Her eyes were intense, her voice steady in a way that cut through all the panic you were feeling. “You didn’t know. None of us did. And what happened — what he did to me — that is not on you. Do you hear me? It is not your fault.”

“But what if it happens again?” you whispered, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “What if I give you bad advice? What if I invite you somewhere, or we’re just hanging out, and I somehow put you in the wrong place at the wrong time and you get hurt again? I don’t... I don’t think I could handle it. I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose you.”

Penelope’s eyes softened, and without missing a beat, she pulled you into a hug, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “Shh,” she murmured against your hair. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise you that.”

You clung to her, the sobs coming freely now as all the fear and self-blame poured out of you. Penelope held you firmly, stroking your back, soothing you like only she could. “I know you’re scared,” she said gently. “But, sweetie, you can’t carry the weight of things you can’t control. What happened to me — that was on Jason. He was the one who did this. Not you. You were just being a friend, trying to help me find some happiness. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I should’ve known better,” you mumbled against her shoulder, the words muffled but filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to go.”

“Hey, listen to me,” she said, pulling back to look you in the eyes, her hands gripping your shoulders. “You didn’t push me. I chose to go on that date. And yes, it turned out horribly. But that doesn’t mean you should stop being my friend, or stop giving me advice, or living your life like you’re walking on eggshells around me. I need you, okay? And I need you to be you, because that’s the person who’s always been there for me, the person I love. I don’t want you holding back because of fear.”

The sincerity in her voice, the love, and the forgiveness shining in her eyes broke down the last of your walls. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried to believe her words. “I just... I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered again, your voice small and vulnerable.

“And you won’t,” Penelope said, her voice steady and resolute as she held your gaze. But then, her expression shifted, her eyes searching yours with a gentleness that only she could carry. “But I know that’s not all.”

A flicker of confusion crossed your face. “What do you mean?”

Penelope hesitated, biting down on her lip before speaking, her eyes dropping to her hands as she fidgeted with a loose thread on the blanket draped over her lap. When she finally looked up again, there was a hint of sheepishness in her expression, like she was tiptoeing into territory she wasn’t sure she should tread. “I know you were worried about me, hon,” she said softly. “And I love you so much for that, for being there for me even when you couldn’t actually be there. But… I can tell I’m not the eye of the hurricane inside your head.”

You felt your breath catch, the truth of her words hitting you with a force that left you momentarily speechless. It was as though she had seen straight through you, through all the guilt, all the fear — to the thing that lay beneath it all. And as much as you wanted to deny it, to tell her that it was just about her, you knew you couldn’t lie to Penelope.

You sighed deeply, the weight of everything you’d been holding onto crashing down on you again. You sniffled, trying to steady your voice as you nodded slowly. “Spencer,” you said, the name leaving your lips like an admission of a wound you hadn’t yet looked at directly. “Spencer hasn’t talked to me since we found out what happened.”

Penelope’s eyes widened with sympathy, and she reached out to take your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Oh, sweetie...”

“It’s like he just shut me out,” you continued, your voice trembling. “The day we found out about you, he walked out of the hospital without even looking back. He hasn’t said a word to me since, and every time I try to talk to him, he just... shuts down. I know he’s hurting. And I know he’s probably just processing everything, but...” Your voice cracked, and you shook your head as the tears welled up again. “It feels like I lost him too. Like I lost both of you. And I don’t know how to make it right.”

Penelope listened intently, her face softening with every word you spoke. She could see how much pain you were carrying, how deeply Spencer’s silence had cut you. “Have you tried talking to him? I mean, really talking to him? Not just about work or everyday stuff, but about how you’re feeling?”

You nodded, though your shoulders slumped as the hopelessness of it all settled back in. “I’ve tried, Pen. I’ve tried so many times. But every time I get close, it’s like he just... builds a wall. He won’t even look at me sometimes. And it hurts, because I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

Penelope was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she processed your words. Then she sighed softly, her fingers intertwining with yours. “You know what I think?” she said gently. “I think Spencer is hurting more than he knows how to deal with. And I think he’s taking that hurt and turning it inward — or maybe even outward. But I also know that he cares about you so, so much. He wouldn’t just turn his back on you for good.”

You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over again. “But what if he has? What if he’s blamed me for this just like everyone else did?”

“Honey, listen to me,” Penelope said, her voice firm but full of compassion. “Spencer Reid might be a genius, but he’s also a human. And sometimes, humans don’t know what to do with all the pain they carry. That doesn’t mean it’s your fault, and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He just needs time, and you might need to let yourself be okay with that. I know it’s hard, but you can’t carry both your own guilt and his.”

You sat there, taking in her words, trying to let them sink in. It was easier said than done, but hearing Penelope — wise, compassionate Penelope — tell you that it was okay to not have all the answers gave you a sliver of relief. 

“Do you really think he’ll come around?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability clear in your eyes.

Penelope smiled, a genuine, warm smile that seemed to light up the whole room. “I know he will. And until then, you’ve got me.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand, feeling a small, fragile hope begin to grow in your chest. 

—

The kindness and warmth Penelope had shown you was not extended to Spencer when she found him in the breakroom Monday morning. You were still settling in at your desk when you saw her storm across the bullpen, determination in her eyes and anger practically sparking off of her. You didn’t think much of it at first — Penelope’s strong-willed presence was no stranger to the office. But when you saw her walk straight up to Spencer, her expression dark and unyielding, you knew something was about to happen.

Spencer, who had been stirring his coffee absently, looked up in surprise as Penelope closed the distance between them, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. And then she let him have it.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Spencer?” she hissed, her voice low and venomous as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Ignoring Y/N for weeks? Shutting her out like she’s some stranger? After everything you’ve been through together, and everything she’s done for you, you have the nerve to treat her like this?”

Spencer flinched at her words, his face going pale as the berating continued. He opened his mouth to respond, but Penelope wasn’t letting him get a word in. 

“Y/N’s been tearing herself up over what happened, blaming herself for something that wasn’t even her fault! And you know what? Instead of being the partner she needs — the person who supports her no matter what — you’re just adding to the guilt. You don’t get to treat her like that. Not after—”

“I almost lost one of the most important people in my life because of her!” Spencer choked out suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion as he interrupted Penelope’s tirade. His eyes were wide and filled with fear and frustration, and he looked like he was unraveling with every word. “I almost lost you, Penelope, because she told you to go on that date.”

Penelope’s expression shifted then, the anger replaced by a deep, aching sympathy as she let Spencer’s words sink in. There was a silence, a heavy silence that felt like it filled every inch of the breakroom. And neither of them knew that in that very moment, you’d walked up to the door, hearing Spencer’s words, and froze. The world around you seemed to fall away as his voice echoed in your head, the raw pain in his tone seeping into your bones. You stayed there, heart pounding, unable to move.

“Spencer,” Penelope said slowly, her voice gentle but firm, trying to rein in her own anger. “That was not her fault, and you know it. Do the math, genius. Jason was targeting me from the start, whether I was on that date or not. He had me in his sights long before Y/N ever said anything. Stop blaming her for something no one could control.”

Spencer scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as if trying to brush off the weight of her words. “Yeah, well, you say that, but it’s not that simple. If she hadn’t—”

“No, Spencer!” Penelope’s voice cut through his, sharper now, and she pointed a finger right in his face. “You listen to me. That is your girlfriend we’re talking about. Your life partner. Your best friend. Y/N has been there for you through everything. Do you remember when you were so drugged up that you didn’t even know what you were doing, or who you were with, when you lashed out at her in the middle of the night? And did she blame you? Did she shut you out? No. She held you, she comforted you, and she made sure you got the help you needed. She has never given up on you, not once, and you’re giving up on her?”

Spencer was silent. His mouth opened as if to respond, but nothing came out. He looked at Penelope, his eyes burning with anger and anguish and something far more complicated. And for a long moment, the silence stretched between them, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, cracking with the strain of what he was feeling. “I love Y/N more than anything else in this world. But how can I trust her to make good decisions for herself, at all, if her last one almost got you killed?”

And that was all you could take. The words hit like a blow to the chest, and before you knew what was happening, you let out a sob, loud and choked and broken. The sound tore through the silence, and both Spencer and Penelope whipped around, eyes wide in shock as they realized you’d been standing there, hearing everything. 

“Y/N—” Spencer started, panic flooding his voice as he took a step toward you.

But you were already moving, already running. You turned and fled, the tears blurring your vision as you rushed down the hall, away from the breakroom, away from the words that had shattered you all over again.

“Shit!” you heard Spencer yell from behind you, followed by the sharp slap of his hand hitting the cabinet in frustration, the loud bang echoing down the hall. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t look back. All you could do was keep running, trying to outrun the pain that seemed to chase you down with every step.

“Was it worth it, Reid?” Penelope asked, her voice breaking the silence that filled the breakroom after you’d fled. There was no anger left in her tone — only a sadness, heavy and deep, that seemed to echo around them. She looked at Spencer with a sorrowful expression, searching his eyes as if she could somehow pull out an answer that would make sense of what had just happened. “Was it worth it? To get that off your chest?”

Spencer stood there, frozen, his hand still resting on the cabinet door he’d slammed shut in frustration. The thud of it still seemed to reverberate in the air, mingling with the ghost of your sobs. His jaw clenched, his eyes staring blankly at the floor where you’d stood only moments before, now empty. 

He didn't respond, and for a moment, it seemed like he couldn’t find the words. He just shook his head, unable to meet Penelope’s gaze. 

“Did it help?” Penelope pressed, her voice gentle but insistent. “Did it make you feel better? Because from where I’m standing, you just broke the heart of the person you say you love more than anything else.”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I don’t know,” he finally choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Penelope. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this right. I was just... I was so angry. So scared. And I... I took it out on her.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to take it back.”

Penelope’s face softened, but there was no pity in her eyes, only a deep, aching understanding. “You can’t,” she said softly. “You can’t take back what you said. But you can make it right. You can own up to it. You can tell her the truth — that you were hurting, that you let the fear and anger get the best of you. That you don’t actually believe she’s to blame for any of this.”

Spencer finally looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed, filled with regret. “But what if she doesn’t forgive me?” he asked, his voice raw with desperation. “What if I’ve lost her?”

Penelope took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, grounding him in her touch. “Then you fight for her, Spence,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “You do everything you can to make her see how much she means to you. You remind her that you love her, that you need her, that this — all of this — was just you not knowing how to handle almost losing two of the people you care about most.”

She paused, her voice softening even more as she gave him a sad, knowing smile. “But first, you’re going to have to forgive yourself. Because all that anger you’ve been carrying? It’s not about Y/N. It’s about you.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, nodding, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right — he knew it all along. But knowing it and facing it were two different things. And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to truly sit with the pain of it, to feel the regret for what he’d done, and the fear of what he might have just lost.

And in that moment, the truth settled in his chest like a stone: if he had any chance of making things right, he’d have to confront his demons, no matter how much they scared him. Because he loved you. And he was going to do whatever it took to get you back.

—

You found an empty office as soon as your legs carried you far enough away, stumbling inside and shutting the door behind you before you could even think of stopping the sobs that clawed their way up your throat. You leaned against the wall, your hands over your face as you let yourself cry — really cry — until the tears came freely, the weight of Spencer’s words sinking in like a stone in your chest. Every breath hurt, and the dam of emotions you’d held back for so long finally broke. It wasn’t just about what he said, but how deeply it cut. 

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours; you couldn’t be sure. You let it all out, every sob, every tremor that racked through you. And then, as the tears finally slowed and the pain dulled into exhaustion, you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. The team was counting on you. Penelope was counting on you. So you pulled yourself together as best as you could, taking slow, deep breaths and wiping your face with the sleeves of your shirt until your hands stopped shaking.

The mirror in the bathroom was unforgiving as you stood there, splashing cold water on your face. You ran your fingers under your eyes, trying to erase the smudges of mascara that had stained your cheeks, and did your best to fix your hair, to smooth away any evidence of your breakdown. But your eyes were still puffy, red-rimmed, the remnants of your tears clearly visible. And you knew, even as you straightened your posture, forcing a calmness you didn’t feel, that everyone would see right through it. That they’d probably all heard what happened.

But you had work to do, and you couldn’t afford to fall apart again. So, with a deep breath, you steeled yourself and walked back out into the bullpen, your head held high, your shoulders squared. Even if your composure was a fragile thing, even if you felt like you could shatter with the slightest touch, you made your way to your desk, focusing on each step as if it were the only thing holding you together.

The bullpen felt different now, the energy heavier than it had been before. Conversations were hushed, the usual buzz of the office subdued as you passed by. You knew they were watching, that they’d seen or at least heard what had happened in the breakroom. But you didn’t look around; you didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. You just sat down at your desk, opened up the stack of files in front of you, and forced your focus onto the work, letting it be the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Across the room, Spencer sat at his own desk, and as soon as you walked in, he saw you. He saw the way you held yourself together — the straight line of your back, the tightness in your expression, the way you refused to let your gaze wander to his. And he hated it. He hated knowing that he had done that to you, his love, that he’d been the reason for the pain and exhaustion etched into your face. He’d never seen you like this before — so closed off, so... dim. 

He watched you bury yourself in your work, your fingers moving mechanically across the keyboard, your pen scribbling across the pages as if each word was a way to silence the hurt. And all Spencer could do was sit there, guilt and shame wracking his mind as he thought about what he’d done — how he’d let his anger and fear control him, how he’d let it spill out onto you, the one person he swore to protect, the one person who deserved none of it. His brilliant, loving, beautiful girlfriend, who had always stood by his side, even when he didn't deserve it.

He made you cry. He made you doubt yourself, blame yourself for something you had no power over. And the light that usually radiated from you — the brightness he loved so much, the joy you carried so effortlessly — was gone, dulled by the weight of the hurt he’d caused.

Every fiber of Spencer’s being screamed at him to get up, to walk over to you and wrap you in the biggest hug he could manage. He wanted to hold you, to whisper a thousand apologies, to promise that everything was going to be okay and that he’d never, ever make you feel this way again. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to move, because he knew that it would take more than that — more than a hug, more than an “I’m sorry” — to fix the damage he’d caused. It would take time, and understanding, and patience — all things he wasn’t sure he even deserved from you after what he’d said, what he’d done.

—

Later that evening, the weight of the day still clung to Spencer like a thick fog. Unable to concentrate, unable to push past the regret that gnawed at his insides, he found himself reaching for a small comfort — your favorite book. It sat on his shelf, the well-worn cover soft under his fingertips as he pulled it down. You had gifted it to him long ago, lovingly annotated with notes, doodles, and highlighted passages. Each page was filled with bits of you — your humor, your thoughts, your heart. Categories like “reminds me of you,” “our jokes,” “my favorite quotes,” and “scenes I wish I could live with you” peppered the pages, showing just how much care, time, and love you’d put into making it special for him. It had been one of the most thoughtful gifts he’d ever received.

He settled onto the couch, the book resting heavily in his lap. And as he flipped through the pages, he let himself be pulled into the memories, letting his fingers brush over your handwriting, your underlines and notes. He read the small snippets where you’d connected a moment in the book to a joke only the two of you shared, where you’d drawn silly little hearts in the margins or underlined lines that spoke to you. And he could almost hear your voice as he read your thoughts, your teasing comments, your kind words. It felt as though you were right there with him, the warmth of you emanating from every page.

The tears came slowly, silently, at first just a sting in the back of his eyes that he tried to blink away. But as he read deeper, the notes growing more tender, the love you’d put into every word more apparent, he let them fall. He let them fall because he could feel the depth of what he’d pushed away, how much you’d loved him, how much you still loved him. And how horribly, deeply he’d hurt you.

He was reading a note that simply said, “This reminds me of the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching”. He laughed softly through his tears at your handwriting, slightly wobbly from when you’d annotated it while on a train, but the joy of that memory only made the pain sharper, cutting through him like a blade. He wished he could take everything back, go back to when things were easier and he hadn’t let his fears get the better of him.

Then his phone started ringing. Spencer’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, and when he saw the screen light up with your contact photo, his breath caught in his throat. It was that picture — the one he’d taken when he brought you to New York City for the first time, to the MET and the New York Public Library. You’d insisted on making a goofy growling face next to the stone lions out front, hands curled into claws as you posed, trying to match their fierce stance. He’d laughed so hard as he took the photo, snapping the picture while you were mid-roar. And now, as he stared at it, the memory made him smile, even through his tears.

His thumb hovered over the answer button for a moment, heart pounding in his chest, before he finally pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello? Y/N?” he managed, his voice cracking slightly, unsure of what to expect.

“Hi, Spence,” you sighed, your voice soft, almost hesitant. “I’m... um, I’m outside. Can I come in?”

The relief and panic hit him all at once. You were here. You’d come to him. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, fumbling to stand as he set the book aside, the pages fluttering closed. “I’ll be right there.”

He hung up, practically stumbling to the door, his heart racing with both fear and hope. And as he reached for the door handle, he tried to steady himself, knowing that whatever came next, whatever words you had to say, he was ready to listen. Because you were here, and he wasn’t going to let this moment slip away.

As soon as Spencer swung the door open, he was met with the sight of you standing there, tears staining your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy, your breath coming out in shaky gasps.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you choked out, your hands trembling as they twisted together in front of you. “I’m so, so sorry for everything. I should have never told Penny to go on that date. I should have... I should have called to check on her, I should have thought about how all of it affected you. I’m—”

“What?” he whispered, his voice coming out strangled with confusion and pain as he cut you off. He stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours desperately, trying to make sense of your words. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I messed everything up,” you continued, the sobs making your voice tremble as you tried to hold yourself together. “I never meant to hurt you, or Penelope, or anyone, but all I did was make things worse. If I hadn’t told her to go, if I had just stayed out of it, none of this would have happened. And you—” Your voice cracked, and you struggled to find the right words, to get out everything you’d been holding inside for so long. “You wouldn’t have had to go through this, you’d still trust me, and you wouldn’t hate me. I don’t want you to hate me, Spencer. Please don’t hate me.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at the sight of you breaking down in front of him, blaming yourself for something you had no control over, something that had haunted him every day since it happened. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the thought of you carrying this burden when it was his anger, his fear, that had driven you away. And all he wanted to do in that moment was take away your pain, to make you see that you weren’t to blame, that he had been so, so wrong.

“Hey, hey, stop, stop,” he said urgently, stepping forward to close the distance between you, his hands hovering for a second before he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t be sorry.” He pressed his face into your hair, his voice desperate as he tried to find the words that would make this right. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I love you so much. I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m the one who hurt you, who shut you out when I should’ve been there for you.”

You trembled in his hold, your tears slowing down as you clung to him, and Spencer tightened his grip, trying to convey everything he felt through the warmth of his embrace. “I was scared,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I was so scared of losing both of you. And I know that’s not an excuse, but I... I let that fear control me, and I took it out on you, and it was so wrong. You were trying to help Penelope, trying to be a good friend, and I blamed you for something that was never your fault.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with confusion and anguish, and Spencer could see the questions there, the doubt that still lingered. “But... but I was the one who—”

“No,” he said firmly, cupping your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streaked down your cheeks. “No, Y/N. What happened to Penelope — that’s on Jason. Not you. And I should have been there to tell you that, to support you, instead of shutting you out. I was so scared of losing you that I pushed you away and I hurt you. And I am so, so sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice, the tears that filled his eyes as he spoke, the pain of being apart, and the love that still held you together, left you breathless. 

“Please don’t apologize,” Spencer said softly, his forehead pressing against yours. “You did nothing wrong. You were just being you — the caring, loving person I fell in love with. And I am so sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t be that person.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as you pulled away, giving yourself some space. Grabbing a tissue from the side table, you dabbed at your nose and wiped away the tears that still clung to your lashes. Spencer watched you carefully, the anxiety on his face clear as he tried to read your silence. You didn’t speak for a long moment, your gaze fixed on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you thought through everything that had happened. He stood there, holding his breath, afraid to interrupt whatever was going through your mind.

“I love you, Spence,” you whispered finally, your voice shaking but full of truth. “I love you so much.” You finally lifted your head to look at him, letting the words hang between you like a fragile thread of hope. 

His shoulders relaxed slightly, a small flicker of relief crossing his face as he stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “I love you too,” he murmured, the words spilling out quickly, like he was afraid you might change your mind if he didn’t say it fast enough. “More than anything. And I’m not going to let anything come between us again.” He reached out, his hands hovering just in front of yours, desperate to close the space between you. “Please... don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion as you took in the worry on his face. “Spencer, why would you say that?”

“Well, I—I treated you terribly, and we weren’t talking, and we fought, and I was so awful to you,” he stammered, his voice shaky as the fear spilled out. “I... I know what I did, and I know I hurt you, and I just... I was scared that maybe... maybe you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Spencer,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours, your fingers intertwining as you squeezed them reassuringly. “That doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. We had a fight. A really bad one. But now we have to work through it. Together.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, all you saw was vulnerability — the way he was trying to hold himself together, the way he was fighting not to let the guilt and fear overwhelm him. “But what if... what if I hurt you again?” he asked, his voice so quiet it almost got lost between you. “What if I say the wrong thing, and you...”

“Then we’ll talk about it,” you said firmly, your voice steady as you spoke. “We’ll talk, we’ll talk and we’ll figure it out, and we’ll make sure we don’t let it happen again. But I’m not leaving you, Spencer. Just because we had a fight... that doesn’t mean we’re over. We’re stronger than that.” You paused, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I know we have a lot to work through. I know it’s not going to be easy. But I love you, and I’m here. We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nodded, a flicker of hope brightening his eyes, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Okay,” he whispered, tightening his grip on your hands. “Together.” 

“And, baby?” you asked, your voice soft but steady as you tilted your head to look up at him, trying to catch his eyes and make sure he really heard you.

“Yeah?” Spencer responded, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes meeting yours with that familiar mix of love and uncertainty, as if he was afraid to say or do the wrong thing.

You squeezed his hands gently, your thumbs brushing over his knuckles, grounding both him and yourself in that touch. “You have to talk to me if something is bothering you,” you said, your tone gentle but firm, the words full of the honesty you both needed. “I can’t fix anything, and we can’t work on anything, if I don’t know what’s going on inside your head. If you’re hurting, or if you’re scared, or angry... you have to let me in. Okay?”

Spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, and you could see how hard he was trying to take in your words, to let them settle in his heart. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I... I’ll try. I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, leaning in just a little closer. “That’s all I’m asking,” you said gently. “We have to be able to talk to each other. No matter how hard it is, no matter what’s going on — we have to do it together.”

He closed his eyes, and you watched as he took a slow, deep breath, the tension in his body finally loosening as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. When he opened his eyes again, something had changed. It was subtle, but you saw it — a spark of determination that hadn’t been there before, a promise to do better, to be there for you in all the ways you both needed. But there was something else, too — a hunger, an intensity in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in so long. It was the way he used to look at you, that mix of need and devotion that made your heart race.

“God, I missed you so much, darling,” Spencer sighed, and before you could respond, he pulled you into another hug, his arms wrapping around you so tightly you almost lost your breath. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if to remind himself of your scent, the comfort of your presence, the closeness he'd gone too long without. His hands gripped your back firmly, holding you as though you might disappear if he let go. 

You melted into his hold, your own arms winding around him as he pulled you flush against him. It was a hug that spoke of all the longing and pain and love that had built up between you, a hug that was both desperate and grounding all at once. You could feel the way his breath hitched as he held you closer, the way his fingers dug gently into your back, and you knew that this was more than just an embrace of comfort — it was everything he’d held back for so long, all the love and want and need finally spilling over. 

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you pressed yourself closer to him. And for that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, tangled together, holding each other like you never wanted to let go. 

Spencer pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with a need that made your stomach flip. His hands slid up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks as he spoke, his voice low and breathy. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, the words full of both desire and hesitation — a question that held the weight of all that had passed between you, of all he hoped to mend.

You giggled softly, your heart swelling at the sight of him so close, so vulnerable. “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” you teased, leaning into his touch, a smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw that light return to his eyes — that playful, loving look he always gave you before pressing his mouth to yours. And then he was kissing you, soft at first, like he was trying to remember how it felt. But as soon as his lips met yours, you felt the relief and longing melt between you, and he kissed you deeper, his lips moving against yours with all the tenderness and passion he’d been holding back. 

The world around you seemed to blur, everything fading away as you sank into him, the feeling of his mouth on yours so familiar, so perfect, like coming home. You could taste the salt of tears, his and yours mingling together, and as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel all of him — his warmth, his love, the steady rhythm of his heart beating against yours.

He kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered, like he was trying to memorize every second, every touch, making up for every painful moment you’d spent apart. There was something so intense, yet so tender about it — a kiss filled with all the love and longing, spilling over with every movement of his lips against yours. It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t slow either; it was the kind of kiss that lingered and sank deep into your bones, like a promise of something stronger, something unbreakable.

It was the sweetest kiss you think the two of you had ever shared. You felt every ounce of passion and desire radiating off him, every bit of love poured into that moment. Spencer’s hands were gentle as they rubbed your back, his fingers moving in small, slow circles, not daring to roam too far but enough to make you shiver at the warmth of his touch. Each caress was careful, as if he was both holding you close and holding himself back, trying to savor every second of feeling you close again.

You clung to him, your own hands gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly your knuckles were turning white, and you couldn’t bear to let go. You didn’t want to lose even an inch of contact, afraid that if he pulled away, even for a moment, you’d lose this — lose him. The world seemed to dissolve around you, and all that existed was the pressure of his mouth on yours, the faint taste of coffee on his lips, the way his hair brushed against your forehead as he leaned in closer.

Spencer broke the kiss for just a second, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mixing with yours as he let out a soft, shaky sigh. And then he was kissing you again, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the depth of what you meant to each other — not just words, not just promises, but something tangible and real. Something that neither of you were willing to let go. 

And in that kiss, you felt the world right itself, felt the cracks begin to heal, and the pieces of both your hearts start to fall back into place. You didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, but for now, this was everything. And that was enough.

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[lowrezbonuslevel]

you... are my nakama.......!

Day 2 Revenge Kirby Fighters 3 and Knuckles: Old Man Yaoi Edition

⚠️ LONG (but good-faith) RANT (that gives a little extra context for today's drawing) UNDER THE CUT (don't worry it's not shipping discourse lmao) ⚠️

Okay so I know neither of these modes are canon and therefore it's SORT OF a moot point, but NARRATIVELY SPEAKING, Meta Knightmare Returns and Dededetour are completely and utterly backwards, right???

What beef does King Dedede have with Dark Meta Knight? What beef does Meta Knight have with Sectonia and Dark Matter Swordsman (besides the fact that they both breathe and hold pointy weapons)? I understand that there's this ongoing plotline with having MK face swordfighters to test his skill, but I still think King Dedede should have been the one to rematch both DMS and Sectonia in Robobot (I do know Sectonia DX in TDX exists, but she isn't the final boss of the Dededetour mode which kinda sucks).

Shadow Dedede himself is a decent idea, but he's new to the series and has absolutely no story introduction (and his design isn't all that interesting, at least to me). Sectonia? Love her, but she deserves a Dedede hammer to the face for all three phases and more. DMS (and Dark Matter in general)? The ORIGINAL Dedede opp (besides Kirby lol). I know these are just clones in-story, but the coolness factor is still there.

You can make the argument that MK got to fight Mecha Knight because of MKR--which is cool, definitely, but if it were King Dedede the same could be said for the Dedede Clone fight, so in my eyes it evens out (actually... Dedede beating Stock Mecha would probably have been even more hype. imho).

Also, a Galacta Knight battle with solo King Dedede would be rad. The power scalers would have a FIELD DAY!!!

Likewise, Meta Knight never actually got to beat DMK in a proper battle at any point, did he? So based on both canon and alt timelines, DMK could still whoop MK's ass. That's just wrong... :(

It's my understanding that TDX was made with absolutely no anticipation of Robobot, so it could be the case that they simply didn't want to give Dedede the spotlight twice. But I sort of wish they had held back on MKR regardless.

Really, I don't think you NEED the anticipation of Robobot's specific plot/mechanics to see that MKR would have fit perfectly in TDX, because it answers the question of "where the hell is MK and why did he sit back when Dedede got kidnapped"? Having him fight DMK would be a way cooler explanation than an implicit "he was doing something somewhere else."

Maybe he's been fighting on the sidelines and is now clearing out the castle--which is full of Sectonia's remaining minions, the strongest and most loyal--and getting to the bottom of some source of magic still coming from the castle. Meanwhile Dedede and Kirby are helping out the people of mainland Popstar that were displaced by Sectonia and the Dreamstalk. And DMK (or, even better--a form of Dark Mind!) serves as the final boss.

Likewise, while the main events of Robobot are going on, the King could be helping Floralia defend themselves from the invasion. (The existence of Sectonia Clone combined with the pause screen that claims "Floralia is too remote to be mechanized yet" is literally just a plot hole anyway. The invaders couldn't overtake Floralia by the time we're fighting Sectonia Clone... despite the fact that they obviously DID find the huge plant that leads DIRECTLY to their kingdom AND the invaders have a mother(computer)ship the size of Planet Popstar AND practically infinite robot soldiers...? Be so fr...)

Extra work/game industry deadlines are a consideration too, but I don't think that applies too heavily here because both modes could have heavily reused and repurposed assets and level designs.

MK could have just had the typical EX mode recolors and stuff, but maybe with the story explanation/design concept that the bosses are being controlled by the Dark Mirror this time, instead of being aggravated by Taranza.

Dededetour in Robobot could have subsequently reused TDX assets. I feel like this is even a case where reskins are the objectively cooler option, as opposed to entirely new assets: seeing the flowery, green areas of Floralia converted to gross, grey landscapes would have been AWESOME, as well as seeing the insects and flower-based enemies turned to robots. Maybe the People of the Sky have been mind controlled: the six main flower fairies work together as a miniboss, and defeating them/breaking their mind control apparatuses is how they are "rescued" here, in parallel to their game of origin. Maybe Taranza is also being mind-controlled in an act of universal karma and Dedede has to bail him out. That would be sick!

This stuff isn't a series-ruiner by any means, but it genuinely feels like a glitch in the Kirby matrix that the plotlines here are so mismatched. If I were whimsically rewriting the Kirby series, the MKR and Dededetour swap would probably be the first change I'd make. (And, again, I'd like to acknowledge that there are/were probably practical considerations of which I'm ignorant.)

You know how the series could still fix everything, though...? Kirby Fighters 3, BUT this time King Dedede and Meta Knight are the main protags. They get to fight magically-summoned/echo versions of DMK, DMS, Sectonia, King D-Mind, Yin-Yarn... you name it. TOGETHER. As husbands should!!!

[milliemuus]

Day TWO of toxicchaintober is rolling around, and the prompt was chains!

This is kind've sad, but necessary. Evil villain plot stuff, yk? Maybe don't get so greedy, Kieran smh

Speaking of villain origin story, why don't I write y'all a little excerpt?

READ BELOW THE CUT (!!!!MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR ASPHYXIATION!!!!)

It was a very dark night.

Kieran hurriedly raced away from home, having snuck out of the house without getting caught. His adrenaline, mixed with both fear and anticipation, rushed through his veins with each trot as he made his way to the bridge that seperated town from the wilderness. He knew he really shouldn't be out here this late, but given the circumstances, he didn't care.

It was about time he grew up, anyway.

As he reached the path that led to Kitakami Hall he took a turn, headed down the slope and toward the river.

"I just have to remember how to get to the woods, and then out of sight for a little while." He panted, coming to a stop before approaching the bubbling stream before him. He looked down at the water for a moment, taking in his reflection.

"I look...I look so tired..." he whispered, still drawing in deep breaths. He brought a hand up to his cheek.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?" He asked himself, feeling the small, familiar flicker of irritation as he began to recall the events since coming back home.

"You make your first friend, want to prove to her you're not some loser wimp and then your stupid sister comes in and swoops her away! And now she won't even talk to you, much less look at you!" He growled, his panting becoming slower. Even still, his heart pounded in a mix of bubbling frustration and fatigue.

"You can't even make friends right, much less DESERVE ANY!" His voice rose, echoing through the still air as he swiped the water with his hand, as if to eradicate the insecure reflection before him. This caused some neaeby ducklett to quack from being startled.

"I hate you! I hate this stupid town, and I hate my sister. It's all your fault!" He rambled on.

"If you weren't SO WEAK—" He grit his teeth, near forgetting why he was here before he felt a rattling in his pouch, nearly causing him to fall over in surprise.

"Ghh-?!"

His fanny pack rattled again. Oh...right. He shouldn't be here wasting his time. The thing rattling in his backpack had reminded him of wby he was headed to his destination in the first place.

He sighed, taking a deep breath.

"If I stay any longer, someone'll be bound to find me. I gotta get going." With that, he set off once again, this time he was going to make sure he didn't lose breath.

...

After what felt like forever, he recognized the thick greenery of the forest. Many had warned him of the dangers, but he didn't care. He stopped, clenching his fist.

"I have to go in." He swallowed "I have to prove my worth. Maybe then she'll like me then." He then began scaling the steeper hill of the forest, making sure he didn't tumble on the way down.

As he landed at the bottom, he whispered "I wonder how she does this...I'm already done outta breath..."

He sounded disappointed in himself, shaking his head.

"No, Kieran. Steel yourself. Part of the training is tolerance!" He growled softly, pushing deep into the dark woodland of Timeless Woods.

Thankfully he was wearing his jacket—so many swaths of bramble had poked out, scraping his legs. As annoying as it was, he would just stomp them to the ground with a flare of annoyance.

"No doubt meemaw is going to question how I got these in my sleep," he thought to himself.

"Maybe I can just say my Sentret did it out of excitement....seems believeable."

Convincing himself, he pushed forward, a branch near hooking his headband. He growled at this, struggling for a moment before it let go.

"Geez...!" He adjusted his headband.

"To be honest, is this even worth coming so far?" He began asking himself, now wandering aimlessly. "That voice said it would be...so I guess it wouldn't hurt. Still..." As he was about to speak, a loud shriek echoed in the distance, the hair on the bsck of his neck standing up.

"A-Aw man....I oughta make this quick, then-"

Without further hesitation, he knew he had no choice but to go forward. He whimpered slightly, throat burning in fear as he picked up the pace.

"Did we really have to meet out here...?!" He panted again, already losing the air pocketed in his tiny lungs. The terrain here was unstable; what if he fell? What if a scary pokémon caught up to him-?!

The panic rose in his chest. He felt more hypervigilant, the rattling in his pouch only startling him further.

"W-Wait...!" He puffed "We're almost there—"

He could faintly make out an area in the distance, his focus locking onto it. The pouch rattled again, this time with more ferocity.

"C-Can't you just wait?! I'm trying, here!" He wailed, his hands travelling to his fanny pack. Whatever it was, it was ready to come out compared to when he was near Mossui.

He began unzipping it, eyes still locled onto the clearing ahead.

Zzziiiiip-!

"Okay, I'll give you some ai— Wuuaahh—!" Suddenly the weight under his feet was gone, his body feeling as if it was soaring. A choked cry escaped his throat before it was automatically stifled by his front-half landing on the ground.

"Oomph—! Oowww..."

Kieran whimpered. He slowly sat up onto his knees, trying to rub his eyes.

"Mmghhh...uh?" He stopped, his vision refocusing. That's when he noticed something small and a pinkish-purple laying in the grass in front of him, moonlight reflecting off of it.

He began grabbing at his pouch, realizing that it was now empty as well.

"What-?! How did-?!" He scooched up further, about to grab it and stuff it back in the bag before his eyes landed on two, yellow orbs that stared right back at him.

"WH-WHAT THE--?!" He took his hand away. The item-now-turned-creature hissed.

"Silence, child!"

It rattled, this time the weird, soft shell began to undulate.

The air felt like it was sucked out of Kieran's throat. What the hell was going on...? Had he hit his head too hard somehow? Maybe ate too many sweets the day prior?! He had to slap himself for a moment, as if he was dreaming.

"Ugh....this is just a dream...it has to be a dream..."

The creature rolled its eyes for a moment before Kieran felt something—something that physically wasn't there—grab his face. This grabbed his attention, his whole body tensing up as he sensed danger.

"You call yourself a "trainer", yet you can't tell when a pokémon is right in front of you or not. How pathetic..."

With it's soft outer shell, the creature hoisted itself up. It was shaky, much like the spherical-shaped robots breaking down like in sci-fi movies Kieran had seen. He watched in horror as the peach-shaped pokémon lifted itself in the air.

For him, this was like witnessing the birth of Arceus, or the existence of life itself. Did Millie know what this thing was?

As he sat there, dumbfounded, the tight, invisible feeling left his face. He reached to rub his chin instinctively, looking at the creature that was slowly regaining its strength.

"You...you can speak?" He asked shakily.

"Yes...I suppose I am able to now..."

"Now?"

"It does not matter. What matters right now is that I have brought you out here for a multitude of reasons..." The creature's yellow-eyes squinted at the child. Kieran sat there, watching its every move as it began floating around him, as if to observe him. It stopped above his head, leaning in a little closer.

"Wh-What are you doing...?" Kieran asked, confused.

The peach-shaped creature's horns seemed to move back for a moment before it floated away from Kieran, looking down at him.

"Studying you...you'll see." The creature finally answered. Kieran tilted his head.

"Studying me? Why?"

The creature floated up to his face, glaring at him.

"It is simple, foolish child. I need your help." The creature insulted Kieran, which he slightly looked away in agitation.

"We both are in a predicament, and I think we could benefit from one another, no?"

This caught Kieran's attention. His eyes flickered for a moment.

"Y-Yeah!" He barked, before his face contorted in confusion.

"Wait...how did you know I was going through somethin' right now?" Kieran, now struck with realization, stared down the anomaly in front of him. The creature gently shook from side-to-side.

"Peh-heh-heh...you really are so stupid...I really did hit the jackpot with you..."

Kieran's fists balled up as he sat there, becoming impatient.

"Enough with the insults! Just...answer my question." Kieran's voice was more demanding, it taking all of him to not just grab at the creature and scream at it. The critter made a weird groaning sound, rolling its eyes again.

"I don't know how it couldn't be anymore obvious...but I've kinda been alive the whole time..." It revealed, "To put it simply: the first time you touched me, I suppose it activated something within me to wake up. Then I had to play the waiting game...make sure you're worth my time-"

"Worth your time...?" Kieran squinted, perplexed.

"You're so hopeless. Anywhoooo...." The creature tilted to the side.

"You said you wanted to get stronger, right? I kinda overheard when you rudely stuffed me into your little smoking-case there—"

"H-Hey, woah-!" Kieran put his hands in front of him "First off, this isn't a smoking-case, it's a pouch! Aren't those like really old, anyway?" He scratched his head "Also, I suppose yer not wrong. Sorry for doing that, by the way-" He looked down, blushing slightly from embarrassment. The creature looked down on him.

"Coulda swore that was something else. Anyway, to repeat what I said—"

"Yeah! I do wanna get stronger!" Kieran, impatient with excitement, grabbed his own knees in anticipation.

"...Okay, kid. Slow down."

"Sorry!"

"Oookay...anyway...I need your help. If you wanna get stronger, then I have two favors from you. I really think these things could help you get stronger..."

Kieran leaned forward, now in a semi-bowing-position.

"Please! I'll do anything!" He cried, his head bowing to the ground. The creature wanted to giggle at his patheticness to work for him.

"Wow...that didn't really take any convincing and I didn't even get to tell you the conditions yet. Consider this...a sub-challenge..." For a moment, it felt pity for the kid. How desperate would a kid his age have to be? It almost seemed unfair-

When was it ever fair, anyway?

Kieran sat up again, nodding. The peach began to float to-and-fro.

"Firstly: You really need to prove your strength by helping me re-unite my buddies and I together. What better way to prove your strength than through friendship?" It began to explain, nearly cringing at the last few bits. Before it could continue, Kieran piped up again.

"Who are your buddies?" He asked. It would only be natural for him to ask just so he knew what to do.

"Err...they are very...anonymous folk. They prefer to keep their identity hidden."

Before Kieran could say anything else, it continued,

"Secondly, I need a few, specific masks retrieved."

Kieran's eyes widened, and he piped up again once more.

"Like...like The Loyal Three's?"

The creature looked at him in surprise. The Loyal Three?! If it wasn't so upset at them for failing their job previously, it would have been pleased with the title.

"Look, save your questions for later. Once I see 'em, I'll let you know, okay? For now, I'm just trying to work this dea—trade—out with you."

His voice sounded stern for a moment. If things went his way successfully, he wouldn't have to explain his reasons. It's not like he was going to remember anyway-

Kieran looked embarrassed once again, nodding in understand.

"Okay-"

"Thank you." The creature sighed before floating up into his face.

"If you can do those two things for me, then I can grant you the power you seek. Do those conditions sound good to you?" It asked. Finally finished with it's propisition, it now waited desperately, looking into Kieran's cat-like eyes.

Kieran was quiet for a few moments, which was completely agonizing for this mystery pokémon. If it had hands, it would have its fingers tied behind its back.

'Just take the bait, kid. Come on!' It thought, tensing a little.

Kieran tapped his finger against his chin before he finally spoke.

"So, if I find your friends and retrieve these mystery masks, I can catch you and join my party?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Indeed— Wait...catch me?"

"With a pokéball!" Kieran beamed, looking up at it with moon-round eyes. Never had the pokémon been so confused and offended before. What the hell was a pokéball?! It made a weird "peh" noise before shaking itself again.

"Y'know what? Yeah, we'll work that out when we get to it..." It grumbled. Might as well save itself another headache before it wastes the little energy it has...

Kieran had never been so overjoyed before. He was finally going to be able to achieve his dreams of becoming the strongest trainer in the world, and finally have an attempt at impressing Millie! His heart began to pound and, before he could stop himself, he blurted out the fastest "Yes" his body could conjure.

For a moment, the creature was too stunned to speak. This was easier than it thought it'd be. Was this kid really that gullible? Did he never get the lectures most kids got when he was younger? The creature blinked, before the answer finally hit it. It finally got what it wanted.

"Yes?" It asked "Are you absolutely sure?" It wanted to clarify that it had not heard things, making sure that Kieran could undoubtedpy be bound to it.

"Yes! If you can give me strength, then I will do these things for you! Kieran repeated, bowing again.

Wow. This kid WAS serious.

"Pehra, Pehra..." It made a noise akin to a pokémon, sighing. It was excited, but it also pitied the kid to a degree.

"Okay, kid! You got yourself a deal!" It cheered, it taking everything not to squirm too much so its shell didn't open up too much.

"Sit up and hold out your hand!"

At its command, Kieran sat up for a moment, confused. He just shrugged, thinking ut was just the simple gesture the mystery pokémon had picked up from others when it came to sealing deals.

"Okay!" And with that, he held his hand out, eyes closed in a smile.

The creature could hardly believe it; it was going to be able to take Kieran's vessel (and smoothly, at that)! It made a little chirp, the chirp becoming a few quiet giggles as Kieran felt something invisible wrap around his wrist.

The pokémon's eyes remained closed, the noise getting happier as the invisible force began to tighten agonizingly around Kieran's wrist.

"Ow ow, hey-" Kieran opened his eyes "I know you're excited, but—" Before he knew it, the pokémon began glowing a faint purple around itself, now looking back at him with dark intent.

"You really are so STUPID....!" It snarled. Kieran's eyes could do nothing but hopelessly watch as the invisible pressure he felt began to glow purple, materializing into a faint, circular object that seemed to stretch from the sides of the pokémon.

It was at this moment his heart dropped, the atmosphere around him turning into one of despair.

There was no doubt about it; he had been duped, used yet again by another creature that saw him as nothing but weak. He could feel his heart quicken in terror, his immediate instinct to pull away.

"S-Stop it!" He cried, trying to pry his arm away from the sinister creature that had a death-grip on it.

"Let go of meee...!" He grit his teeth, his arm screaming in pain as he pulled as hard as he could. The pokémon drew closer, laughing darkly at the kid.

"I feel bad, kid. I do," It faked the pity; in reality, it had played its cards right, and Kieran had fell for its plea

"But you did agree to this trade! Fair's fair!"

Kieran growled in panic, his eyes welling up with tears.

"I NEVER AGREED TO— MMMPHHH—" Before Kieran could scream at it, he the weird texture of the unidentifiable object the creature was using dart into his mouth, as if to stifle him.

"Whazzat?" It asked "Did a totodile bite your tongue?"

Kieran glared at the pokémon, the familiar ache in his chest swelling. He couldn't make any noise as the chain-like miasma pinched his tongue. He did squeal, his throat burning as the prongs pinched harder.

As Kieran began to struggle, the chain that was snaking up his arm suddenly lunged, now wrapping around his throat. He began to panic, realizing exactly what it was trying to do. His eyes welled up with tears as the creature floated behind him, chuckling.

"That's a good kiddo. If I didn't have my toxic chain in your mouth, I'd totally give you some mochi as a reward!" It chimed. Kieran growled, struggling some more. Not only was this pokémon actively going to kill him, but it was offering one of Kieran's least favorite foods.

The despair ate at Kieran. He had followed a disembodied forest out into Timeless Woods, accepting some sort of stupid offer. He was disappointed; it was as if life was just out for him.

'This is my fate..." Kieran thought, the chains getting tighter. He could feel his throat slowly close.

'Maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe sis was right about me being a stupid child that doesn't know any better...' As he began to pity himself, the chains fully closed around his neck, closing his windpipe. The tears slowly stopped, him unable to heave any air.

'I'm going to die. I'm going to die in the middle of the woods.' Kieran looked up at the sky, trying to gasp for air as the creature's other chain used it's prongs to stretch his mouth open.

'I'm going to die alone, and nobody will be here to save me.'

Suddenly, Kieran began to miss everything. His house, his school, his family, his friends....

...Even Millie. Why was it that, even at the face of death, she was the one that crossed his mind? The despair gnawed at him, and he was helplessly a victim to it.

He began to panic, clawing at the chains that held onto him, sucking the oxygen out of him. This only caused the creature to wiggle the chains, laughing.

'...I really need sis right now...' He finally felt a heavy weight upon him. It was as if Carmine was tucking him into bed, telling him things would get better.

"Looks like we've got a fighter! I hate to tell you this, but the more you struggle, the worse it'll get!"

It was taking excitement in Kieran's suffering. He could feel his vision tunneling, white, fuzzy spots dotting it. His struggling became less amd less, the movements becoming mere twitches.

'I feel so cold...' Kieran thought.

'If only sis were here...I need her...I need...sis...'

And that's when the weighted feeling took over, as if a blanket had fallen over him, one that Carmine was holding, telling him that things would get better and that tomorrow they would make things better.

Just like she used to. Right before he felt like he didn't need her love or comfort anymore.

Before he knew it, he had slipped into the comforting void of darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[moraypower]

now that I finally have Frye's spiramonster info out, it's time for an event starter call!

Frye is interested in nearly all of the challenges available, with the exceptions of a sandy experience and it's sup-posed to be a challenge.

other than those two though, pretty much anything is free game. if you have a specific challenge that you really want to do, please send me an IM, as otherwise I'll likely pick one out at random!

also, Frye is willing to give a copy of her spiramonster out-- if you can best her in a battle first! it's more fun that way, and besides, not just anybody can handle training eels. she needs to see what you're made of first.

I'll be capping this at 3 for now, but I may open it up to more later if I have the energy!

[skunkes]

i have soooo much more i cld say abt him, and have explored more thru other doodles, but quick summary of talon's whole deal, which is subject to change still as he's only almost 2 yrs old as an oc

[candlebel]

I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.

[orcelito]

Gencon is very busy...!!!

Ummmmm highlights of the day..!!!

I maybe bought 4 Naruto figurines. Thankfully not individually expensive (though perhaps a little expensive all together...) see I wanted Sasuke but I also wanted Kakashi and I couldn't have Sasuke without Naruto and well it would feel wrong to have the 3 of them without Sakura and so I somehow. Got all 4. Haha. I'll most likely post pics later, whenever I end up opening them. I'm still at the convention center rn lol

(Putting the rest of this under a cut bc it got a little long lol)

I was on the field of the Lucas Oil Stadium, aka the stadium that the Indianapolis Colts play at. I've attended all of One game here (not professional football, it was a high school game lol) so I've felt the size of it, but it's still fucking crazy being on the field. It's so BIG...... and obviously they've got the grass covered rn, but it's still pretty cool!!!

I maaaade dice!!! Pretty precise process it seems, & definitely would require a Lot of work (after the sanding and the painting etc etc). I do still wanna get into it, but if I wanted to spring for stuff like the vacuum chamber or the pressure pot...

Yeah, it'd get expensive. Add in the fact that I don't have a good place to do this away from the cats & it really is not feasible to start rn. But!!! Eventually!!!! I think I'd really enjoy it. I just need a dedicated workshop space where I can spread out without worrying about poisoning my cats lol.

Here's some cool game set stuff I saw in the event hall. This picture is maybe... hm... a fourth of the event hall? And then when you consider that the vender hall (connected to the event hall, though it's closed right now) is maybe 1.5 times as big as the event hall?? Give or take a little...

Aka just imagine booths upon booths upon booths... I'm gonna have to take a pic of it tomorrow. I was there too briefly to think about taking a pic. Honestly I maybe managed to get through like a tenth of the whole vender hall in an hour of wandering. It's fucking huge. And So Many Dice... I bought one set of 14 (I think it was) dice. Aka an extended set. And then I got a random set bag of dice (just a basic 7). And then a d20 with a cat on it. And a dice of LETTERS. Aka I guess a d26 (I totally did not have to double check that there were 26 letters in the alphabet)(I have 702k words written & posted to ao3)(😂😂😂 I'm very tired) but with letters instead of numbers. And it's glow in the dark!!! And I found some hxh buttons, and a mighty nein poster, and uhmmmm. A cute lanyard. And that's all I bought. Which really is such restraint for me. (Omfg I just saw a dragon cosplay)(someone just dressed as a dragon)

OH YEAH I saw a fucking. Persona 5 Ryuji cosplay. Hanging out with the biker lady from Durarara. Featuring the Ryuji holding her scythe hfksbfmd which was such a funny image. I was too shy to ask for a pic but just trust 🙏 i saw this

Anyways yeah the only real big thing I bought is the naruto figurines. I'll show pics later once I got the stuff again (I dropped it all off in the car earlier)

Omfg literally as I've been sitting here (on a bench at the side of a main hallway) someone stopped by and gave me a handmade bracelet !!!

DND's 50th anniversary!!! So cute!!!!

[seaofreverie]

Delivery day!!!!!!!

[zhongrin]

◆

— fin.

alrighty, i will be cuddling the shit out of a certain dragon after this but before that, a small bonus (read: silly doodles) because we all need therapy after all that (or at least i do) -

1:

2:

"i had a nightmare."

"but i just went to buy milk-"

/silly

3:

we both have separation anxiety now so that's that 👍🏻

[toytulini]

jalapeño eggggggggggg

[arolesbianism]

Alright I have an oni tag now 👍

[bunnis-monsters]

🕸️Legend of the Drider🕸️

Bunni’s Monstertober Event(Oct1)

Male!Drider x Fem!Reader

Oct2

warnings: light web bondage, breeding, oviposition, possessive behavior, reader is a bit insecure about her body, body worship and praise

summary: You go on a trip, hoping to build your confidence before you go back to college. When you get trapped on a mountain during a storm, you realize a legend about spider people may be real when you encounter a horny one for yourself.

A/N: I don’t know much about college so don’t kill me if things are inaccurate 💗 also don’t expect all of the halloween posts to be this long, some will be short and some on the longer side >< also guess the inspo for this story in the comments…

my ko-fi if you’re feeling generous~

If you had known how your trip up a nearby mountain would end with you in the clutches of the spider creature you’d only heard of in legends, you would have stayed home that October day.

But you were bored, wanting to find some fun stuff to film and meet a cute stranger while you were at it. That’s why you packed your bag and left for the nearby tourist attractions.

First you walked through a big pumpkin patch, taking pictures with a 50 pound pumpkin. It wasn’t as impressive as some you had seen online, and you knew that wearing a burnt orange sweater while posing next to it would only bring on ridicule.

You weren’t thin, and if someone from your college saw that picture, you were sure they’d compare you to the pumpkin, saying it was your twin.

Well… you had never even really talked to a single in any of your classes. You weren’t the type that liked to socialize. Too many times had you been burned, finding out they were being your friends for a prank or had been talking about your body behind closed doors.

Part of you knew it wasn’t right to judge others before even meeting them. After all, it happened to you more times than you could count… but you were still too shy and insecure to take that first step into making new friends.

That’s why you took a bit of time off of college to try and build up your confidence. It was important to you, learning how to love yourself so you could truly love others.

Ever since you went through puberty you had been aching for someone to love you, to adore you with their entire being…

How would you even be able to believe them if you didn’t love yourself first?

So you laughed at the picture of you next to a pumpkin and placed it into your scrap book before packing it away in your backpack.

You repeated this at several tourist attractions, even finding the courage to speak to a few attractive men and women. It wasn’t as scary as you thought, they didn’t look at you with disgust or say anything mean. They simply spoke with you before giving a smile and going about their day.

‘Maybe there really isn’t anything to be afraid of after all?’

The last stop on your list was the Arachne Mountains, named after a certain legend surrounding the area.

“Huh… spider people have been sighted several times over the year, and there’s a reward for anyone that can catch them on camera…”

You squinted at the pamphlet in your hands, trying to read the small print at the bottom. “What does that say? It’s so small…”

With a shrug, you stuffed the pamphlet into your bag, pulling out the bug spray instead and spraying every bit of bare skin. Mosquitos just loved you, and you didn’t want to be itching the whole bus ride home.

As you walked up the mountain trail, you took many pictures, but mostly of the gorgeous scenery.

A vast forestry landscape spread out beneath you, and the mountain path winded through the forest. As you continued walking, the path worn down by several years of hikers began to become more overgrown and less accessible.

“Huh… doesn’t seem like anyone’s been this far up in a while…”

When you thought about it, the stand with all the pamphlets was abandoned and dusty, the window broken. You just assumed they didn’t have the budget to fix it… but now you were second guessing yourself.

And that’s when a storm hit. Earlier that day you had heard something about a thunderstorm on the radio, but it was supposed to be that night, not now!

“Shit!”

You ran through the rain, slipping on mud and losing your way. The rain was so thick you could barely see in front of you. Tree branches scraped against your sides and caught on your clothes, ripping your sweater and scraping you up.

By the time you were finally able to take shelter in a nearby cave, you were absolutely drenched and covered in scratches and scrapes.

You slid down to the ground, panting and taking off your sweater, now heavy with water. It plopped against the ground, and you reached into your backpack.

“Fuck…”

Your phone had no signal, and you wouldn’t be able to go down the mountain to call anyone until the storm died down.

You yelped, jumping up from your seat and backing away from the entrance to the cave when lightning struck close by.

This sent you further into the cave, nearly tripping on the uneven, rocky ground.

Most would expect a cave out in the middle of nowhere to be cold and damp, and smell of moss and dust. Surprisingly, the further you traveled inside, the more… “cozy” it seemed.

It smelled almost like cinnamon and felt pleasantly warm. This made your shivering die down, your soaked clothes forgotten at the entrance of the cave.

Little did you know, you were slowly being lured in deeper by the inviting warmth and pleasant smell…

The first sign that something was wrong was a skittering that could be heard further into the cave. The hair on your neck stood up, but you tried your best to reason with yourself.

‘It’s probably just some rat or bug…’

But as your phone battery went out and darkness enveloped you without your only source of light, the noise got louder as whatever was making it approached.

You yelped when something brushed against you, and tried to scream, but your mouth was covered and something sunk into your neck…

Darkness.

——————

When you awoke, you felt something warm yet sticky enveloping you, keeping you from freezing while trapping you in place.

You were barely awake when you heard a purr like sound coming from the dark corner of the cave. A man’s face was barely visible within the shadows.

He was handsome, his eyes a dark red and hair a soft blonde, almost platinum color. It seemed he had been the one to trap you there.

“Hello, my dear. You’re finally awake…”

As soon as you were fully conscious, you began to struggle against your bonds, finally looking down to see what was keeping you from breaking free.

“Are those… webs..?”

You felt almost faint, staring down at the whitish, substance wrapped around you. It looked like thick, velvety ropes, but they were so sticky that you knew that they couldn’t be.

“Indeed.”

The man began to move forward, the same skittering sound appearing once more. You looked on in horror as his lower half was revealed.

Below his torso was not a set of legs like a normal, no, it was the abdomen of a spider.

‘The legend… is true?’

You had been captured by one of the spider people of myth…

“You must be scared… you’re just a human girl after all, and I’ve taken you away.”

He reached out, caressing your soft cheek with his hand. “But do not fear, I’m not planning on eating you, little one.”

His hand traveled down your face to your shoulder, his fingers playing with one of your bra straps.

“Far from it…”

Your cheeks heated up as he easily cut through your bra, his eyes on your now bare breasts.

“I’m in need of a mate to carry my eggs… and you’re the only woman that’s traveled to this mountain in ages…”

He breathed against your neck, licking the bite mark he left there earlier. “God, I could hardly hold myself back the moment I saw you. Such a plump, perfect woman, you’ll carry my eggs well…”

You whines as his lower half creates more webs, keeping you suspended in air, but freeing your soft cunt.

Quickly, he tore off your panties as well, growling lowly at the sight of your pretty, fat pussy. “Oh, my little mate, already this wet? Perhaps this was fate, for me to be sent this angel from above…”

He plunged a finger into you, pressing against your gummy walls and stretching you out as one of his spider legs nudged against your sensitive clit, just enough to stimulate you and get you to cum all over his fingers.

“There we go… such a good girl…” he purred into your ear, beginning to stroke his monstrous cock. He drew out several orgasms from you, prepping your virgin hole for him.

Within seconds, you were lowered down, your hips hovering over his as he nudged the head of his cock against you.

“Gods, you’re so soft…”

He kneaded your fat belly and thighs, purring in delight. “You’ll make such a good mother… you’ve got child bearing hips, like you were just meant to carry my eggs…”

Soft nips and nibbles were left on your neck and breasts.

“Every ten years, us driders go out to find a mate that’s suitable for us. I am the last of our kind, so there are no females left for me…”

He smiled, beginning to push in.

“But you… are not just going to be the woman that carries my eggs. You’ll be my mate, and I’ll cherish you.”

It was uncomfortable and painful, the way his cock stretched you out. You gritted your teeth and he cooed, but wouldn’t allow you to close your legs, two of his spider legs kept your thighs apart so he could sink deeper into your fat cunt.

“Shh, shh… it’ll feel good soon, my love…”

And he was right, his cock stretched you in such a delicious way, hitting all the right spots and making you cry out in pleasure.

He mounted you, fucking into your needy cunt as he groaned into your ear. “Gonna take my eggs, okay? My sweet girl, you’ll be such a good mommy won’t you?”

Suddenly you felt something push into you. Was that…

He was cumming, eggs filling up your pussy and settling into your womb. Soon your belly would swell as the eggs grew and developed, but for now, you were tired…

He kissed along your shoulders and neck, nuzzling into. Slowly, he lowered you down from the webs, curling up with you in a dark corner of the cave.

“You’ll be pampered, well taken care of… never again will you worry about a single thing…”

As you began to drift off to sleep, you realized that this creature truly thought you were beautiful… it made you happy.

So you snuggled into him, too full of cum and eggs to really even try escaping. Why would you?

You were loved… you felt truly beautiful for the first time in your life.

“I’ll prepare a cabin soon, there’s plenty of abandoned ones nearby. Wouldn’t want my mate to be uncomfortable.”

The way he nuzzled into you was filled with such love and care. He must have been lonely, being the last of his species.

So you decided to stay… at least for now…

Want a part 2? Send me a kofi and ask for it~

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[foldingfittedsheets]

What's your opinion on purple™ mattresses?

No one is allowed to come for me about this take, got it? This a safe place for my personal opinion which I was just asked for. Okay? If you disagree just move along. If you love your Purple I’m not saying that’s wrong.

So. I personally really dislike Purple. It’s not just Purple but they were one of the first bed in a box, for which they have much to answer for. Their catchy branding opened up a new type of mattress market. But making a bed cheap enough to roll up like that and still meet fire standard plus providing back support is just a unicorn.

As I previously mentioned I don’t think beds in boxes can provide good long term back support. But the target demographic of broke 20 somethings is robust enough to deal with the lack of back support for a while based on their general vitality.

However a huge part of my clientele when I sold beds were people returning their bed in a box, most frequently Purple, who had horrible experiences. So I’ll admit I got an extremely biased view of them from that standpoint.

But the really shady thing is that Purple won’t disclose their fire retardant. See, mattresses in the US (and many place internationally I think?) have to adhere to fire safety protocols. Why? Because before that was a thing beds would go up like bombs and were considered extremely dangerous in the event of a fire.

Most major bed brands use like Kevlar fibers. There’s chemical treatments that can work too and some folks get pretty worked up about it. The fact is that cheap mattresses basically always have a really dicey flame retardant which brings us to-

Fiberglass! Now, Purple, along with a ton of other bed in boxes, has had a slough of customers pissed off because they’d taken off the cover and suddenly all their stuff including bodies were covered in fiberglass. It honestly makes sense because they have to use something and at the price point it has to be cheap.

Now, Purple swears up and down that it doesn’t use fiberglass but really damningly they don’t say what they do use. A reputable company will just say what their flame retardant is because it’s common enough that consumers want to know.

Their insistence that it isn’t fiberglass while silent about its actual nature is highly suspect. I expect it’s either a thing so close to fiberglass that branding is the only thing keeping it separate or it’s a shady chemical they don’t want to divulge either.

TLDR: Not a brand I’d recommend.

[apollos-boyfriend]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖️ as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Seasonal Delights Bingo: fall vibes | Row One-One | soft kisses | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Fairytale Bingo | Row One-Three | Goddess of marriage | @fairytalebingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter — you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

Taglist -> @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @im-alestan @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu @holylulusworld @bucks-babe @whatever-lmaoo @thevillainswhore

[xoxotria]

in secret | csc

pairing: idol!choi seungcheol x model!reader

themes: secret relationship, situationship

warnings: minors dni! smut, fingering, mentions of reader having breasts and a vagina

ring. ring. ring.

you didn’t bother checking who was calling as there was only one person to call you during your schedule.

“you know you can’t keep calling me while i’m at work cheol.”

you hear a chuckle on the other end of the line as you pick up another booty call from seungcheol. you had met him through an event where you accidentally bumped into him as you were leaving your dressing room and the rest was history.

“yet you still always answer baby.”

“only because god knows how pouty you get when i don’t.” you laugh as you wave your collegues goodbye, your fittings and schedule over for the day.

you had walked over to your car still on the phone with cheol as you unlocked your car and got in to continue your call in private.

“what is it you want tonight? i’m pretty tired for sex today.”

ah, yes. you were in a friends-with-benefits type of relationship with cheol after that one incident where you both were at a after party in which both of you had alcohol in your system but still sober enough to decide to have sex in his car before he drove you home to your apartment.

“i’m not calling you for sex—well tonight i’m not.” he laughs as you hear the faint sounds of the radio in the background. “i was passing by your favorite restaurant and bought too much food for one person to eat alone so i was gonna ask you if i could come over and share a meal with you tonight.”

“woah, who are you and what have you done to the cheol i met first?” you teased him as you pulled out of the parking and into the street to head home to your apartment a couple of blocks away.

“i can be a gentleman too if i wanted to you know? rude that you think otherwise.” you could see him pouting my the way his voice sounded over the phone.

“i’m kidding baby i know you are but yes you can come over. the doors are unlocked and i’m a few minutes away.” you answer.

“how many times do i have to tell you to not leave your doors unlocked? you’ll be the death of me woman seriously.”

“and how many times do i need to tell you my apartments security is really good. anyways, i got to pass by a shop to buy some stuff for my apartment. i’ll see you later.”

“m’kay, drive safe. see you later.”

༝༚༝༚

“—and then they forced them to hug it out with hannie after they had won the prize and could go home early! it was the funniest thing i saw today.” cheol laughed from the other side of the table as the both of you ate dinner together.

“i would’ve loved to see that in person.” you laughed as you imagined it happening infront of you.

you were familiar with his group, seventeen. he had ‘forced’ you to watch gose episodes and some of their (more specifically his) fancams from previous concerts during some of your more casual meet ups. you had enjoyed it so much you actually had a slight infatuation with wonwoo much to cheol’s dismay that he wasn’t your bias.

“you’d love the boys. they are the same on and off camera, i’m super proud of them really.” he gushed as he sipped on the beer you had bought before coming home.

“i’m sure they feel the same way about you,” you reassured him as he smiled at you.

cheol was a great leader, he was kind but firm especially when it came to his brothers. he would rather pay fines and reassure his fans than keep them overthinking about things. he was a pure soul—maybe that’s why over time you had slowly fallen for him.

“thanks baby.” he mouthed to you as you both enjoyed the rest of your dinner in comfortable silence.

you watched as he finished his food the same time you had before grabbing the plastic containers and throwing them in the trash tidying up your dining room before plopping down on the couch beside you. you had been planning on setting boundaries with him as you knew your feelings would get hurt if he finds a girl he actually wants to pursue and not just fuck.

you had past flings and relationships before you had met cheol. it was never easy for you to fall in love with the way you’ve fallen for cheol—not even with your exes. you had been the secret girlfriend or lover before so why was it so hard to be that with cheol? oh right. you weren’t even his girlfriend. you’re just a one-call away fuck when he needed you to be. but you’d also be the first person he’d run to when the world around him became too much for him to handle.

“cheol?” you called out softly as you approached the couch.

“hmm?” he hummed as he looked up from the tv to look at you.

you watched his brown eyes lock on your own as the nerves in your stomach knotted. you couldn’t do it but you knew you needed to before you hurt yourself by loving a man that wasn’t even yours to love.

could you stomach not being able to hold him the way only you could when it was just the two of you? to live with the thought that he’ll settle down with another woman and that he couldn’t do it with you? to know that you were good enough to fuck but not commit to fully?

“how long will we continue like this?” you ask as you take the spot on the couch beside him.

“what do you mean sweetheart?” he asked as his brows furrowed in confusion.

“this cheol. you and me. is this all we’re going to be? a quick fuck and leave?” you could see the way the gears in his mind were then turning.

he didn’t know what to answer.

“i thought we were fine with this kind of set up? you didn’t want any commitments and i didn’t too especially in the industry we are in.”

“i was at first. things happen seungcheol—things even sometimes i can’t stop.” you argue as you watch him fidget with his hands.

“i—i can’t do it (y/n). there’s so much on the line for me—for you! i have an album release coming up. you have your runway and cover launch. if anyone finds out, the backlash would be too much for both of us to quiet down quick enough that it won’t ruin everything we’ve built.” he reasoned as he stood up from the couch.

“am i really just a good fuck to you?” the question hung in the air as you watch him try to answer you but decided not to and grabbed his keys making a beeline for the door.

“so much for being a gentleman. goodbye asshole!” you shout at him as he leaves your apartment in silence.

you broke down in tears burrying your face into your throwpillow mourning a relationship that was never there to begin with. you had shared you body with him—intimate moments of just you and him as he worshipped your body. you had not only fucked but there was that one time in which he made love to you after he had been away on tour for a month. he touched your body as if he was memorizing every mole, scar and dip of your body, kissing every patch of skin he could as he slowly thrusted in and out of you as if trying to engrave you in his brain yet he couldn’t commit to you even if he did all that.

you knew since the beggining that you were playing a dangerous game when you had met and started messing with each other in secret, so you couldn’t blame him fully for hurting and leaving you when you wanted things to get serious.

you cried for him that night, vowing never to let anyone mess with your heart the way he did with yours. you allowed yourself to mourn him and what could’ve been before drifting off to sleep.

༝༚༝༚

a month had passed since that night, everything was getting better. you had walked for one of your dream brands in their show in paris before being flown back to korea for a cover shoot. you had managed to avoid thinking about him successfully burying yourself in your work.

you had glanced at the calendar hung on the wall in your little office where the date tomorrow was encirled with red ink with his handwriting messily scribbled beneath the date.

new album release in which you’d drool over wonwoo instead of me :(

you had avoided opening twitter to stop yourself from looking at updates from seventeen hoping for a glance of him even going as far as to download weverse to catch a live of him. yet your finger hovered over his contact on your phone wanting to call and check in on him as he was always nervous whenever he had events coming up.

“no stop that. you’re not going to make yourself available for someone who thinks your just a good fuck.” you mutter to yourself as you close your phone.

your room still had traces of him you haven’t got the guts to get rid of yet. his perfume still sits on your vanity as he sometimes stays the night and always forgets to bring his perfume with him to use which resulted in him leaving his bottle of perfume in your room. his jersey from that one gose episode hangs from the chair in the corner of the room from that time you asked him to bring you home wonwoo’s but refused to do so saying it would be weird to see you wearing wonwoo’s jersey when you were fucking him. his toothbrush is still by the sink in your ensuite and his spare clothes are still on your top drawer waiting for him to come and use them—but he won’t because he’s doing better than you are and moving on from your little situationship.

his side of the bed still smells like him despite you spraying your perfume on it. he just manages to haunt you in the solitude of your own home. you’re thinking gets interrupted by a call from an unknown number on your phone.

“hello?” you greet unsure.

breathing is the only thing heard on the other line so in your better judgement you turn the call off thinking somebody just dialled the wrong number by accident.

you shrugged it off before tossing your phone to your bed and rearranging your vanity to keep your mind busy.

ping!

a notification interrupts your rearranging seeing your phone light up as a message comes through.

open the door.

“open the door?” you read out loud as you see the text. confused as the number isn’t saved you decided to check your front door as a safety measure.

you peep through the hole in your front door to see no one there but you decided to open and check. you glanced at the hall seeing no one there but to your surprise there was a paper bag on the floor. you picked it up and placed it on your kitchen counter before locking the door behind you.

you opened the bag to find an unsealed album with wonwoo’s signature on it. confused you rummage through the bag to pull out wonwoo’s jersey from that one gose episode.

“what the hell?” you asked confused as you pulled your phone out to check the number that had texted you. it wasn’t a number saved in your phone but you had an inkling to whom it was from.

you decided to call the number to confirm your suspicions. you had waited a while before the call got answered. and boy were you ready to give them a piece of your mind.

“hello?” he answers as you pace back and forth in your kitchen holding the album in your hand.

“yes, hello to you too. what the fuck is this? why would you send me an album signed by wonwoo and his jersey from that one gose episode? are you that fucked up seungcheol?” you fumed as you waited for him to say something.

“well?” you pushed as he wasn’t answering you.

“hi, uhm, it’s not seungcheol. i’m gonna introduce myself first, my name is joshua hong. i’m seungcheol’s group member and he borrowed my phone to text you. he isn’t here right now but i’ll make sure to relay the message you had for him. also, don’t worry about me spilling your secret i’m not gonna tell anyone about the two of you. you have my word for it.” you could feel the heat build up on your cheeks in embarrassment.

“i’m sorry! i thought you were seungcheol. i probably should’ve let you talk first before i went off on you.” you apologize as you hear joshua chuckle.

“don’t worry about it, i get where you’re coming from. don’t tell cheol but you were right setting boundaries to your situation with him.”

it was nice to know joshua was on the same page with you regarding the matter.

“yeah but it may have cost me his presence in my life. well, until he had contacted me again today.” you admitted as he sighed.

“i told him he should’ve used his own number to contact you but he wouldn’t listen to me. that man honestly, he can be so dumb with things like this but is so smart in other things.”

“i was debating calling him just hours ago. i know how tense he gets with your album releases but i—“

“you wanted him to reach out to you because you already told him what you wanted out of your situation. yeah, i know. he told me about you guys a week ago.”

“he did?” you asked surprised.

you really didn’t think he’d talk about you and your situation with anyone else. truthfully, you didn’t know how you felt about it. seungcheol had all the time during your no-contact period to reach out but he never did so you thought he was fully over your relationship. hearing from joshua that he was talking about it with someone else somehow gave you a thought that he might actually be thinking about you still.

“he hasn’t been able to talk to anybody else about it because of the circumstances but i could tell something was troubling him so i just waited for him to open up to me without being forced to and he did eventually. i know he misses you—he hasn’t shut up about it to me,” he sighs as you pick at your nails. “he means well, y’know? he just has a lot on his shoulders being our leader and the shield that protects everyone around him but i know deep down your good for him and i know he knows it too. just hear him out please?”

“i will, thank you joshua. congratulations on your new album by the way. i’m sure you’ll be hitting the charts and winning awards for it soon enough.” you thank him as he says his thanks and ends the call leaving you to your thoughts.

your phone sits on the counter as you gathered up the courage to text him and soon enough you pressed send.

where are you? we need to talk.

༝༚༝༚

seungcheol had arrived at your door an hour later, knocking lightly on your door you might’ve thought you hadn’t heard him if you didn’t know he was coming over. you opened the door for him not bothering to look at the peephole as he shuffled quietly past you and into your living room. he glanced around the apartment seeing it was still the same way as the day he left you so suddenly. he normally felt at home but this time he felt so tiny and out of place despite all the times he used to come over. he glanced over the familiar paper bag on your kitchen counter with the album and jersey he dropped off.

he could feel your gaze at him but he avoided making eye contact with you which he used to love doing. your eyes were his favorite thing to look at—no matter what you were doing your eyes always showed how you felt despite you not saying it verbally. he would tell you how much he loved your eyes even if he was in the middle of fucking you. he’d often tell you to keep your eyes on him despite you being so fucked out yet you’d do as he asked because you loved how he looked at you. deep down he thinks he knew that the moment he started to look for you in the people he’d interact with everyday was the moment he started seeing you more than just another person he’d call to fuck—he loved you long before he had the guts to let you know and seeing you for the first time after no contact truly did things to him.

“hey.” he spoke softly as he finally looked at you for the first time in a month.

god, you looked so beautiful even if your face held no emotions as you looked at him.

“i did all the talking last time so i think it’s fair i give you this moment to air out your thoughts before i make a decision.” you answered stiffly.

he nodded in understanding as he tried to gather his thoughts together before he opened up his mouth to speak.

“truth be told, i got overwhelmed when you were insinuating that you wanted to be more than just what our set up was but that isn’t a good enough explanation for what i was feeling at that moment.”

it was true, with everything on his plate at that moment it just got suffocating for him so he left without saying anything. it was one of the most stupid thing he had ever done in his life because he wanted nothing more to say something—anything to you.

“i had so much time to think about us over the month of no contact. i learned things about me that i wish i knew the moment you confronted me about what we were and how things were going to play out for us in the long run. i want you, (y/n). i wish i told you that night that i left. i don’t want you just physically because you are so much more to me than just a body to fuck. don’t get me wrong the sex is amazing with you and i feel like i’m on another world when i get to touch you, hold you, and just be with you.” he explains as he inched closer to you.

“but i’m scared to love you. i don’t want to ruin what we have because i’ve seen other couples in our industry get destroyed just because they love each other. i know i can handle the backlash i’d received but i’d hate to be the reason you’d be getting them too—fuck, i love you. god knows when it happened but i do and i can’t stop no matter what i do to try and supress my feelings. you weren’t and aren’t just a good fuck to me—your my entire world and i’m lucky enough to be able to orbit around you like how the moon does.” he could touch your face with how close he was to you by now. the tears falling down your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to wipe away but he didn’t still unsure about if he could touch you that way again.

“you were the first person i felt both wildly unsure and unwaveringly certain of and i kept falling for you and the little things you’d do. i missed looking into your eyes, kissing your lips when you rambled too much, playing with your hair when we cuddle after sex, the little noises you make when you lose at games, and the way i’d wake up with you in my arms when you let me stay over. i missed you so much baby. i’m so sorry i didn’t contact you sooner.” cheol could feel his voice break as you cupped his cheeks. he leaned into your touch as he caught your scent—your vanilla scented shampoo and a hint of his own perfume mixed together. he loved it.

“you’re an asshole y’know?” she spoke through her tears as she allowed him to run his fingers through her locks. “i missed you.” she peered up at him as he smiled at her.

seungcheol had gazed into her eyes—he stared at her like she was the stars in the sky and he was basking in their glow. he missed her truly and he was going to show her how much he had missed her.

his eyes glanced down on her lips before he had closed the space between them with a kiss. the kiss was full of emotions; longing, happiness, and desire. it had been the longest since he went without being able to touch her body, the longest time being a month when he was away on tour.

he doesn't know when his obsession with you started, but one look at your bambi like eyes and he was hooked. jailed and chained to nights filled with your doe eyes brimming tears and cries of pleasure. oh the sweet sounds you’d make because of him.

"you like that? hmm?" a moan escapes your lips as he palmed your soaked sleep shorts.

“yes.” you answer breathlessly as you feel him lift you up and lock your legs around his hips. gravity causing you to settle down with your cunt pressed against his hard dick.

“oh fuck.” he groaned as he felt your wet cunt slide down his dick. “i missed having you like this baby.”

he had managed to get you both into your room as quickly as he could without bumping into your stuff with his lips on yours before setting you down in your bed. he littered your thighs with kisses as he pulled your shorts down revealing you slick cunt.

“no panties tonight, hm?” he smirked as you blushed.

“you make me go insane baby.” he removed his shirt along with his bottoms bearing all himself for you to see—not that you haven’t seen it before.

cheol dipped a finger into your core, working around the sopping wet muscle to fit in a second. he never broke eye contact with you, even as you groaned at the sudden contact as his finger grazed your bundle of nerves .

"it's okay, baby. come look at me, please? look right at me. that’s it, that’s my good girl."

as his fingers began to speed up, the tension in your thighs loosened, giving him more access to the rest of you. your walls took them in with ease as you welcome the familiar sensation of his fingers being stuffed in you, the wet sucking noises beginning to fill the room along with your moans. his breath is steady as ever, as if he's breathing you through this in an effort to slow you down from getting there before he even gets to truly have his way with you the way that he intends. he hadn’t fucked you in so long—he was going to take his sweet time.

your eyes locked into his—his favourite sight ever seeing you like that, breath hitching in the back of your throat catching the soft cries of his name that you tried to utter. pulling back, cheol removed his fingers from you with a slick pop, sticking the digits into his mouth, cleaning them of your cum.

"always so sweet," he remarked, dragging his thumb across his lip, and bringing it to yours. instinctively, you began to suck on it, slowly letting the taste of your own arousal coats your tongue. you could feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh, the heat between your legs drawing him in ever closer. it was intoxicating. in all your relationship's timespan, you were never sure of the exact moment that you had started to like him at a different light, but you knew that it lay somewhere in the hours he spent buried in between your thighs as he ate you out like he had been starving for years.

"i wanna feel you," your voice was just above a whisper. interlacing your fingers, his hand much bigger than your own, his entire body appeared massive in the small slivers of light that were in the room. your hand wrapped around the base of his swollen erection, a string of curses escaping his lips as you ran your hands up and down the length, icy fingertips teasing at his prominent veins. shifting his weight and allowed your hands to guide him, lining up perfectly with your glistening slit as his head teased at the entrance a few times, positioning itself just mere centimeters from your cunt.

"i love you so much cheol—fuck." you moaned out as your fingers dug into his back.

with eyes locked onto each other, your mouth fell open as he bottomed out. it took you no time to adjust, but the shockwaves ripped through your body just the same as they always did when you were this sensitive for him. he knew that you didn't have long from the way your walls clenched around his dick. it took a few seconds of adjustment, but he nestled himself inside, lowering his head to whisper into your ear.

"i'm gonna move now, 'kay baby?"

you nodded, arms pulling him down to your chest more as his dick dragged itself against your walls. after a few soft, shallow thrusts, your nails bit into his shoulder—the signal that he could go faster. his hips began to rock more evenly, building an even pace as the sounds of your walls began to fill the room. each kiss of his tip against your soft spot gave way to a familiar, lewd squishing noise coming from your delicate hole. your whines only urged him to go a step further, nails raking down his back so hard you were sure you had begun to draw blood. his body was marred with scars, but you knew that every scar on his back had been left there by you, an ever present reminder of the sleepless nights together you two shared.

"cheol—please, please harder," you croaked. he was right where you needed him, but not giving in. he was such an tease.

"are you sure you want more?" his demeanor shifted as lust consumed him.

"i'm not gonna hold back, you know," he started.

"i missed fucking this cunt—fuck—not gonna slow down until you're shaking."

he started ramming into you even harder, each thrust jolting your body backward and further up the surface of the mattress. he was slipping, eyes beginning to lose their light even as they were still locked onto yours. you could feel his grip around your waist getting stronger, digging into you. the veins in his arms started to bulge, he was losing himself in the euphoric washes of your body. you were shaking already, clamping down on his thick cock erratically.

"not going to stop until you're so cock-drunk on me."

every dizzying motion of his hips had your blood rushing to every part of your body. the wall in your abdomen began to shatter as you could feel your own mind slip.

"cheol—it's—i'm—baby—i'm gonna—" you could barely manage getting the words out. he placed a thumb in your mouth again, giving you some semblance of comfort all the while egging you on.

curse him and his high endurance.

"go on, cum for me. cum for your cheol baby."

you yielded to him completely, body simply going limp, giving in to euphoria as your climax overwhelmed your frame. you couldn't stop yourself from letting go completely, gushing your own translucent slick over his own lower half, tilting him over the edge.

"fuck," he moaned out as he reached his own high. "here it comes—here it fucking comes..."

he kissed you through it, groaning into your mouth with his cock throbbing inside you and  painting your insides with thick, milky white.

"Gotta—fuck—stuff my pretty baby so full."

and that he did.

as his own comedown presented itself, he collapsed onto you. you watched his chest rise and fall for a few seconds, assuring yourself that he was still all the way there. his head lifted, eyes meeting your watchful gaze. they were bright, admirable, and warm.

"i love you," cheol murmured into your hairline, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he had pulled you to his chest to cuddle after chasing your highs. you squirmed a bit, repositioning yourself so that you could run your fingertips up and down his chest, tracing every curvature of his skin.

"i love you too," you cooed.

prying him off you for a second, you were about to stumble in the darkness toward the bathroom only to be pulled back into his chest with his own brute strength.

"i have to pee, cheol," you laughed as he caged you in his arms.

“let me join you and get you cleaned up.”

“you and i both know that won’t happen when your in there with me.” you chuckle as you melt into his arms.

“well then…round 2?” he smiled.

༝༚༝༚

you had woken up in a state of pure bliss with your body flush against cheol’s as his arm draped over your hip keeping you close to him.

it wasn’t a dream. he was here. your cheol was here.

you traced over his features as he slept soundly. you couldn’t help yourself—he looked beautiful under the light of the morning light. you could get used to this. he stirs in his sleep as you run your fingers through his blonde locks.

“g’morning baby.” he greets voice deep and raspy from sleep.

“hi handsome.” you smile as he pulls you closer to him and pecks you on your forehead.

“i could get used to this.”

“happy album release day baby.” you greet softly as you peppered his jaw with kisses.

“thank you, did you like my gift for you?” he asked as you pull away and slap his chest.

“you’re so horny. can’t we not associate everything with sex?” you tease as he raised a brow at you.

“baby i was talking about the jersey and the album i had wonwoo sign for you.” he deadpanned as you beam in excitement.

“oh my god! i forgot about that—wait right here.” you run out of the room as cheol laughs at you.

he felt so happy seeing you so happy but he wasn’t that happy seeing you walk back into your room with just wonwoo’s jersey on.

“i think this is my new favourite top. whatcha think baby?” you smile as you twirl around to show cheol wonwoo’s name on the back of the jersey instead of his.

“mm looks good.” he answers curtly brows knitting together in annoyance.

“i know right! wonwoo’s built is so much bugger than mine that this looks like a dress on me.” you played with the hem of the jersey as you hear cheol scoff in annoyance.

“take it off baby.” he grumbles as you shake your head no.

“nu-uh, it’s really comfy.”

“baby you have my exact same jersey. just wear mine.” he points towards his jersey as you shrug.

“but wonwoo’s my bias—”

“—and yet you weren’t cumming all over his dick last night were you? come on baby just wear mine.” he butts in as you raise a brow at him.

“are you jealous mr. choi?” you tease your arms on your hips.

“me? jealous of your crush on wonwoo? no way.” he answers defensively.

“you won’t mind me wearing this around then.” you sit at the edge of the bed turning you back on cheol as you scroll through your phone.

you felt him creep up behind you as the mattress dips from his weight. his hand snakes around your throat as your pulled back into his chest a smirk playing on your lips from how he’s acting.

“you’re mine baby. so i’ll give you two options: change and wear my jersey or…” he tightens his grip on your neck as he whispers in your ear. “i fuck you so hard you won’t know anyone else’s name but mine.”

“i think i’ll keep the jersey on,” you bit your lip excitedly as you hear him chuckle from behind you.

“always such a brat. well, buckle up baby. you’re in for such an eventful day.”

let’s just say you were so cock drunk from cheol’s dick that you couldn’t walk straight for a couple hours needing his assistance throughout the day.