#compartmentalization queen

[belfry-ghost]

Batgirl!Tim AU

Plain text of the info under the cut.

A Tim-centric roleswap AU, featuring Batgirl!Tim and Robin!Cass.

Tim Drake, instead of bringing his case against Batman to Dick Grayson, approaches Oracle. She recruits him as a minion and successor.

Despite carefully curating his entire costume to pass as effectively as possible, it still takes Tim several years to realize he's not as cis as he thought.

As it says on the FAQ, I'm still in the process of reading some relevant comics so there isn't much firm plot at this point. I will be taking a pretty fast and loose approach to the timeline of events though lol

[no-nic]

the people have spoken [original post]

but tiny sakuras are still objectively funnier ✌️😔 (around 100 of them to reach the size shown here harassing kakashi)

[kill-vonkarma-again]

in the end i really feel like where the game fails irt establishing mia and diego's relationship is that they seriously put more emphasis on how much mia hates dahlia than they do on how much she loved diego. like after a full replay it still genuinely came off more like mia had a strong sense of justice than she was specifically trying to avenge diego

[imunbreakabledude]

sneak peak of maeve/annie fake dating fic (coming soon™ and hopefully not a disaster if i kinda wing it without a full plan)...

i've decided it WILL have some Madelyn POV (in addition to the 2 main goobers). and i'm gettin real in my maevemadelyn feels over it! and this is a prime example!

[agentark]

got to the rebecca breakdown scene

[neitherlightnordark]

kris is best character of deltarune

[goblinparty]

apologies to all the kink blogs that followed me back only to realize that this is not the blog i post that shit to

[hylialeia]

yknow I didn't get how people got so invested in tournament brackets but if Isabella tpn loses the evil milf poll I'm killing everyone in this room and then myself

[horsemage]

Okay I finally got that talk with my research advisor/department chair that I’ve been dreading but she was shockingly kind about it and I feel a little less like I’ve irrevocably damaged my academic future

[theonlyadawong]

i think the people who survive these games end up forming a special bond with each other because of shared trauma, but that does not mean they're automatically best friends, or lovers, or anything like that. they're just the only people in the world who know what the other went through, the only ones who can truly relate.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

H̵̩͋o̸̹͒l̶̢̑ď̸͕ ̵͔͛T̴̲̄h̶͙͋e̶̤͘m̵͍̋ ̷͓̈D̵̯͛o̶̡̅w̵̖̃n̵͝ͅ

Get in the Water AU: Original Post Ruthlessness

Ghosts were physiologically different from humans.

It was something Tucker and Sam didn't understand. They saw Phantom as "Danny with superpowers," not as a fundamentally different being.

Sometimes, Danny didn't understand either.

But his parents did. Utter disregard for the scientific method aside, the Fentons were the ones who learned how inhuman ghosts were: "Just emotions and electricity imprinted on ectoplasm, Danno, nothing to be scared of!" Snapshots of people at the moments of their deaths. The past and the present, incapable of contemplating the future.

And with his duality, Danny struggled to understand either of his halves.

As a human, Danny could move past his nightmare of a childhood, compartmentalize and think to the future, when he was fully healed and his past couldn't hurt him anymore. So when Dora, first elected Queen of the Infinite Realms - long may she reign - asked him to collect all the resurrected humans for a health check and assessment... when he'd noticed Damian Al Ghul-Wanye on the list... He'd thought up a little prank to pull on his long-lost brother. A cruel one, perhaps, but nothing harmful.

As a ghost, Danny couldn't move on. He could never forget that Sam led him to his death, that his parents negligence allowed for the stage to be set, that the lab they loved so much held both his home and his grave. Just as Danny would always be that fourteen year old, caught in that moments, he was still the 7-year-old Danyal Al Ghul who trusted his brother not to hurt him... and ended up poisoned.

Phantom wanted his murderer to suffer.

And Danny, much to his shame, had allowed it.

For a few weeks, Danny managed to ignore it. He'd gone after Damian first, so there were tons of resurrected on his list. He started with the more extreme cases first, like Constantine, but soon enough the next on his list was Ra's Al Ghul.

He'd asked Queen Dora to send someone else, anyone else. That he wouldn't be able to control himself if he saw his grandfather again. Instead of relieving him, she'd given him a knowing look and told him to follow his core's desire.

She never mentions it, but Queen Dora had been a murder victim too.

There was no showmanship, no dramatic reveal. Just Danyal, his grandfather, and the Pit.

Despite all Ra's Al Ghul's power, he was no match for a spirit hellbent on drowning him.

That's what Danny did to his grandfather. He'd thrown up afterwards, once he was human before. But the ghost in him relished the act; he could still feel Grandfather's throat under his hands, pulse fluttering against his palm as Danyal held him down. He struggled and shook as the Lazarus waters filled his lungs, burning away healthy tissue. Fingernails morphed into claws that sliced through the tender skin, blood leaking into the water, and water leaking into the blood.

It took a long time for Grandfather to die. Deep within Danny, next to his core, he knew it was what was deserved. That the murdered finally had justice. He was content with never speaking of it again, a secret between him and the waters.

And now it was going to happen again as Phantom's impulsive mind overtook Fenton's tactical one.

He'd known Damian was looking into him. Knew another confrontation was inevitable, what with two more of his siblings needing their health checks. But as Danny was stalking their mother, searching for the best way to abduct her (she was still his mother after all, he didn't want her dead... yet), Damian and his family confronted her.

Relief washed over him as only a normal amount of rage bubbled up at the sight of Damian, instead of the overwhelming, all-consuming fury he'd felt. Danny laughed at their arguments, at Constantine thinking he could put a living ghost to rest, at his siblings-unmet and his father-unknown, until...

Damian confessed.

His murderer confessed, yet as he continued to speak, to explain, the fury rose in him again. Because it wasn't a betrayal. He'd always thought Damian betrayed him, but no.

Through his own ruthlessness, Damian gave him the only mercy he could manage. And there was only one thing Danyal wanted now.

""̸̲̈́T̶͘͜ä̵̢li̸a̶̬̓ ̴̬̐A̵̛̪l̸̲̚ G̸̛̫h̶̺̏u̸̢̚l!̴̳̈́ D̷̩̕o̸͛ͅ ̶̝̍y̴͙͘o̵̙͐u̵̬̓ ̴̤͂k̸̡̑n̵͓̈́o̷͈͝w̷͖͂ ̷͓͑w̴̧̄h̵̲͌o̴̮̔ ̵̼́Ị̷̂ ̷̣̽a̵̳̓m̷̩̓?̷̝͒"̷̧͠"

It was her fault. She was the reason why he was dead, nothing more than a coward who couldn't go against her father for the sake of her children. She abused them, she struck his brother, it was her fault-

"Danyal," she answered. And Danyal grinned, fanged and sharp.

He approached, the waters of his birthplace lovingly brushing against his legs, consoling him the only way they knew how. They whispered revenge into his ears, madness into his heart, just as they had when he'd confronted Damian, when he murdered Grandfather. "You have much to answer for, daughter of the Demon Head," he said, voice echoing around the room.

Unrestrained greed filled her gaze. "You've returned to me, my son."

Danyal laughed, brutal and rough. "I've returned for you, Mother," he corrected. "Don't think this reunion will end well for you."

"You mean to hurt me, Danyal?" she crooned, all false hurt and fake love.

"I mean to kill you."

Genuine anger flashed across her face. "My son would never-"

"Y̵̺̆o̴̩͂u̸͉̕r̷̰͝ ̴͔͝s̵̡̉o̶̡̎ň̵̞ ̶̗̈i̴̘̍s ̸̦̐d̴̯̚ê̶͚á̶̩d̷̻̈́," he snarled, and Damian flinched. He was too close to Talia. "You wanted me dead... for being weak. For having mercy." He stared up at his mother's shocked form. "I killed Grandfather. Tell me, is that ruthless enough for you, Umi?" Talia flinched with just her eyes. He hadn't been allowed to call her Umi since he was three.

Their father stepped forward, the naked distress on his face contrasting with his battle armor. "Danyal," he plead. "You don't have to do this-"

"Stay out of this, Baba." The man's breathing hitched. "This doesn't involve you."

Constantine tried to talk him down next. "It does, kid. A Siren on your level can't stay around for long. It's time for you to rest."

Danyal threw back his head and laughed. "As if you could stop me, exorcist." No more delays. It's time for action. "I will drown you all before you can."

Danyal lunged. And despite his mother's decades as an assassin, she couldn't kill what was already dead.

He held her down by the throat, the attacks from Damian's family bouncing off him. "This is mercy," he cooed as she desperately clawed at his hands. "For me. For Damian. For everyone you will try to hurt in the future. Ruthlessness is the only mercy I can give you now." Her face turned red as she gaped for air and Danyal-

Was thrown back into the water.

Reorienting himself, he found John Constantine standing over his mother, protecting her from him. "̷̪͂E̷̺͐x̷̝̑ŏ̶̺ȑ̴͉c̷̟͘i̸͔̋s̶̮̀t̶̯͝."

And the Pit's water began to rise.

[nylqnder]

BURDEN QUINN HUGHES

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!coach!reader

summary: you and quinn, both dealing with your individual struggles, are able to find solace in one another.

warnings: coach!reader, platonic (but like maybe the start of something more?), very much inspired by what people say about our queen jessica campbell so sexism + misogyny, quinn dealing with feelings of not being good enough, probably more that i'm missing but that's the general vibe

wc: 2.37k

The arena was almost eerily silent after morning skate. Most of the team had already showered and left, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. The echoes of their skates had long since disappeared from the ice, leaving only the soft hum of the arena lights and the rattling of the air conditioner.

You sat alone in the video room, the glow of the monitor illuminating your focused expression. Game footage flickered on the screen — defensive breakdowns, missed passes, and a handful of lackluster power plays that made you grit your teeth.

The weight of the Canucks' struggles pressed down on your chest like a concrete block. Frame by frame, the footage laid bare every mistake — blown coverage, lazy backchecks, and forwards stranded without support. It wasn't just a bad stretch; it was a pattern, a slow unraveling of confidence and cohesion.

You leaned forward, pausing the playback at a brutal turnover that led to yet another odd-man rush. Your jaw clenched as the opposing winger effortlessly deked past your defence and buried the puck top shelf. The players' body language told its own grim story: slumped shoulders, frustrated glances, and hollow stares at the bench. The swagger that once defined the team had been replaced by hesitation and doubt.

A slow sigh escaped your lips as you scribbled notes on a crumpled sheet. Tighten defensive gaps. Better transition reads. Revamp special teams. The list was growing longer than you'd care to admit. But it wasn’t just tactics — it was heart. How do you coach belief back into a team that’s forgotten how to win?

The nagging whispers of self-doubt were now becoming shouts as the losses piled up. Being the second female coach in NHL history was a weight you carried with both pride and exhaustion. Every misstep wasn’t just seen as a tactical error—it was treated like evidence. Evidence that maybe you didn’t belong, evidence that the old-school skeptics were right. 

When the Canucks were winning, the narrative was a feel-good headline: Trailblazing Coach Proves Gender Barrier No Match for Hockey Savvy. But when the losses piled up, the tone shifted. Experiment Failing? Pressure Mounts for Second Female Coach. 

The whispers lingered even when the arena was empty. Analysts questioned your systems, fans dissected your bench demeanor, and anonymous accounts on social media spewed their venom without consequence. They didn’t just criticize strategy — they questioned your very right to stand where you stood.

You clenched your pen, the tip scratching harsh lines into the paper. The criticism was constant and insidious, seeping into every corner of your thoughts if you let it. So you forced it out. You learned to compartmentalize, shoving doubts and insecurities into a mental lockbox and focusing on the task at hand. You kept your head down, analyzing film, strategizing drills, and blocking out the noise.

You'd never been one to walk away from a fight, and hockey was no different. You reminded yourself why you'd taken this job in the first place — not just for yourself, but for every girl who grew up loving the game and wondering if there was a place for them in it. There was. You were proof of that, whether the world wanted to accept it or not.

Out on the ice, Quinn Hughes lingered, skating slow, deliberate laps. He was always the last one off the ice, pushing himself long after everyone else had called it a day. You’d spent countless hours working with him — he was the Canucks’ captain and a gifted defenseman, and you related to him deeply, having been a defenseman yourself during your playing days. You’d seen firsthand the weight of the season beginning to settle heavily on his shoulders. 

The physical toll was obvious. His left hand, heavily taped beneath his glove, clenched his stick with a tension that spoke of discomfort. You'd caught him flexing his fingers during breaks in practice, a grimace flickering across his face before he masked it with stoic determination. The medical staff had recommended rest, but Quinn had brushed off their concerns, insisting that the team needed him. He was stubborn like that — a trait you both shared, for better or worse.

But it wasn’t just the hand injury eating away at him. There was a weariness in his eyes that tape and ice baths couldn't fix. The weight of leadership pressed on his shoulders, compounded by the growing friction in the locker room. Pettersson and Miller, two of the team's brightest stars, were locked in a silent feud that was becoming harder to ignore.

You'd seen the glances exchanged during line changes, the curt nods instead of fist bumps after goals, and the palpable tension during meetings. They weren't shouting matches — at least not yet — but the simmering resentment was affecting everyone. Players tried not to choose sides, instead desperately trying to keep the locker room from ripping at the seams. 

Quinn had tried to mediate, his voice low and measured as he pulled them aside after practice. But neither Elias nor J.T. seemed willing to budge. Their competitive drive, which usually fueled the team’s success, had become a wedge driving them apart. And Quinn, caught in the middle, was paying the price.

You restarted the clip of yet another failed powerplay, trying to identify what needed to change in order to see some results. Do you change the personnel? Do you change their positioning? Try a different zone entry? The seemingly endless options bounced around in your head, causing yet another pounding headache to develop. 

Then it came: the sudden, jarring clatter of sticks clashing against hard surfaces. The sharp bang of a door slamming open reverberated through the empty arena corridors. You flinched, the sound cutting through the quiet like a slap. Something heavy crashed inside the locker room, followed by a burst of shouting and cursing.

You rose from your chair, the glow of the monitor fading behind you as you walked down the hallway toward the locker room. Stepping inside, hesitantly while holding your breath, you took in the sight before you.

Quinn sat hunched over in his stall, his posture crumpled under an invisible weight. His skates, helmet, stick, and gloves were scattered across the room like the aftermath of a storm. The helmet lay upside down near the far wall, and one glove was still spinning slightly on the floor, evidence of its recent violent trajectory.

His chest heaved, and a sheen of sweat clung to his brow despite having left the ice some time ago. His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white against the dark fabric of his practice gear. The air was thick with the acrid scent of frustration and the faint, putrid scent of sweat that you could never fully get accustomed to.

You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts warring between giving him space and stepping in. But Quinn Hughes wasn’t someone who had outbursts — not like this. Seeing him unravel was unsettling, a stark contrast to the composed leader you’d come to know.

Silently, you crossed the room and sat in Garland’s stall directly across from him. Quinn didn’t look up, his shoulders still rising and falling with uneven breaths. The echoes of his outburst lingered in the space, settling into a weighty silence that clung to the walls. You crossed the room and sat down in Garland's stall across from him, folding your hands between your knees.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The hum of the arena lights filled the void, punctuated only by the distant hiss of the ventilation system. You let the quiet stretch, knowing that sometimes the best thing you could offer was simply presence — no forced pep talks, no immediate fixes, just being there.

Quinn's fists slowly relaxed, his breathing evening out. He stared at the floor, the sheen of sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his expression was a war between anger and defeat. You knew that look well — it was the face of a leader trying to hold everything together when the cracks were becoming too wide to ignore.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice steady but gentle.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What do you think?”

Fair enough. “Looks like you had a... spirited moment.”

His lips quirked faintly at your attempt to lighten the mood, but it quickly faded. “I just—” He broke off, struggling to find the words. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m supposed to be the one holding it together, and I can’t even hold myself together right now.”

You nodded, allowing the weight of his confession to hang between you. “Leadership’s a hell of a burden, isn’t it?”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “I knew it was going to be tough, but this? Watching the team fall apart? Petey and J.T. at each other's throats, the power play tanking, the media breathing down our necks? Feels like everything's slipping through my fingers, and I can’t stop it.”

“You’re not failing them,” you said firmly. “You care. That’s why this is eating you up inside. And that’s what makes you the right guy to wear that ‘C.’ The team doesn’t need a perfect captain, Quinn. They need one who shows up, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

He shook his head, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “It’s not enough. I’ve tried talking to Petey and J.T., but it’s like talking to a wall. And the guys... they can feel it. The tension. I see it in the way they skate, the way they sit in the room after games. It’s like we’re all waiting for something to snap.”

You leaned forward, your voice low but resolute. “Then don’t wait. Set the tone. You don’t have to fix everything overnight, but you can start by showing them what it looks like to keep fighting. Lead by example — on the ice, in the room, wherever they need you. And as for Petey and J.T.? If they won’t listen to reason, maybe it’s time for a little tough love.”

Quinn exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Feels like I’m failing them,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “The team, the fans — everyone. And I can’t even play at my best with this damn hand.” His voice cracked as he looked down at his fingers, flexing them with a grimace.

“You’re not in this alone,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with understanding. “And you’re not the only one under a microscope. Trust me — I get it.”

Quinn frowned, curiosity flickering through the storm behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

You shifted slightly, trying to organize thoughts that had been gnawing at the edges of your mind for weeks. “Look, being a coach in the NHL is tough for anyone. But being a woman? It adds a whole extra layer. When we win, I’m a novelty story. When we lose, I’m a failed experiment. And they don’t hold back either — I hear the whispers, read the headlines I shouldn’t be reading.” You exhaled shakily. “The criticism goes beyond X’s and O’s. They don’t just question my strategy; they question whether I should even be here in the first place.”

Quinn's expression hardened. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, bitterness tinging your voice. “But it’s reality. And I can’t let it break me, because the minute I do, they win. So I compartmentalize, push through the noise, and keep fighting. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get to me sometimes.”

Quinn was quiet for a long beat, his brows furrowed in thought. “It’s like no matter how hard you work or how much you care, it’s never enough, is it?”

“Exactly.” You gave a humorless laugh. “And God forbid you show any cracks, because then you’re weak. And weak doesn’t fly in this world.”

The weight of unspoken truths lingered between you, heavy but oddly comforting in its shared understanding. For once, you didn’t feel like you had to keep the walls up, and judging by the tension easing from Quinn’s shoulders, neither did he.

“I guess that’s what leadership is,” you added quietly. “Taking the hits so the people around you don’t have to. Even when it feels like it’s breaking you.”

Quinn's eyes met yours, something raw and unguarded flickering there. “You ever wonder if it’s worth it?”

You hesitated, the question hitting deeper than you expected. “Honestly? Sometimes. But then I think about why I started all of this in the first place. I love this game, and I want to prove that people like me — people who don’t fit the mould — can belong in it too. That keeps me going.”

He nodded slowly, as if turning your words over in his mind. “Guess I need to figure out what keeps me going.”

“You will,” you assured him, voice steady. “And when you do, hold onto it like hell. It’ll be what gets you through the worst of it.”

Quinn’s shoulders eased, some of the tension leaving his frame. “Thanks. I mean it. I didn’t realize you had so much to deal with too.”

“Welcome to the club of people pretending they're fine when they're not,” you said wryly. “The dues are pretty steep, though.”

A faint chuckle escaped him. “Guess that makes us both members, huh?”

You grinned. “Looks like it.”

For a moment, the weight in the room lifted, replaced by a tentative but undeniable sense of connection. You weren't just coach and captain anymore; you were two people who understood what it was like to carry heavy expectations and try not to buckle under them.

Quinn met your gaze, his expression earnest. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know... I'm around.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and warmth bloomed in your chest. “Same goes for you, Captain.”

For a moment, the tension lifted, replaced by a tentative but undeniable sense of connection. You weren’t just coach and captain anymore; you were two people who understood what it meant to carry heavy expectations and keep fighting anyway.

[sanguineterrain]

the teeth you know | dick grayson

Summary: The war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. When you fled Gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the Vampire King and the love of your life, Dick Grayson. You were wrong.

Pairing: vampire king!Dick Grayson x fem!reader. based on the dc vs vampires comics

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: smut!!! 18+ only. oral fem receiving, manipulation, romantic dick, me retconning whatever smarmy little bastard they wrote in dc vs vampires bc that is NOT my dick. dick is literally so gone for you, vampire king or not. themes of death, war, vampires killing humans. if i missed any warnings lmk!

happy almost halloween! follow your dreams and fuck that superhero turned vampire. it'll definitely fix them this time.

the divider

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

Tonight, you dream. 

You don't usually have good dreams. Not since this whole war began. Your dreams are filled with red. Always red, always terrifying. 

Except when he's in them.

The first few times it happened, you yelled at him for intruding on your subconscious. For warping your emotions and making you miss him. He'd laughed at that. 

You should look at yourself a little harder before blaming me. I just appear. You do all the dirty work of missing me, my love.

You're in Gotham in tonight's dream. The old Gotham, of course. Before any bastard undead creatures could suck the life out of your city. Before Dick Grayson haunted your dreams. 

You're on a rooftop ledge, legs dangling. You stare at the harbor. The city's wet from the rain and alive. So alive. You start to cry. 

"Oh, honey," he says, and you cry harder because he sounds exactly like the Dick you knew. 

He keeps his distance, sitting a few feet away. You refuse to look at him, because this is exactly how he gets you to miss him. Dick makes a soft noise when you scrub at your face.

"Have you been eating enough?" he asks, and he almost sounds tender. But you know better. "I'll track down a produce shipment, tell my men to intercept the boat for you."

"Fuck you," you say. "I don't take food out of people's mouths."

Dick edges closer. He feels big in your dreams, looming over you. 

"You wouldn't take food out of anyone's mouth. There's no longer a faction on the planet that requires all that food." 

Because the vampires have all but wiped humans out. You snarl. 

"Why can't you leave me alone?" you snap. "I know you're cruel, but the least you could do is let me dream in peace."

"Have I been cruel to you? I don't mean to be, sweetheart. I visit to check on you."

"Bullshit, Dick." Saying his name makes you shake. "You visit to manipulate me. I'm not going to give up my location, I'm not going to turn against my team, and I'm definitely never going to be your queen."

Dick is next to you on the roof ledge, now. He leans in and you stiffen at his eyes. You still aren't used to the absence of blue.

"Of course not. I wouldn't make you do anything you don't want to," he says, hand slipping across your jaw. You immediately slap him away. He makes a displeased sound. 

"Why don't you find someone else to manipulate? I'm sure you've got countless minions who'd leap at the chance to be with you for eternity." 

"I don't want anyone else," he murmurs. "I've thought of nothing but you since we parted. I wish you hadn't run, my love. Things would be better if we were together, you’d see.”

"Hah. You used to be so much better at compartmentalizing, Grayson. Guess vampires aren't so good at controlling their own desires."

He laughs, tosses his head back. His fangs glint. Dick's smile is deceiving; underneath the charm, there's unimaginable power. Vampirism has treated him well: he's always filled out, lean with muscle, carrying an easy strength everywhere he goes. 

You, on the other hand, suffer from poor nutrition. You didn't sleep well before this mess; now, it's nearly impossible. 

(Except when Dick visits, you feel rested the next morning. You'd never admit such a thing to anybody, but it's the truth.) 

"Oh, sweetheart, but why would I bother controlling my desires now? There's no one stopping me from having what I want."

You stew in silence, turning away from him. Dick sighs. 

"What do you want, hm? Tell me. I'll give you anything." 

"I want you to free every human you're holding captive," you say. "And I want you and your people to stop this war."

"Such a golden heart," Dick says. "That's what I love about you. Always so good."

"You used to be good too," you shoot back bitterly. 

"No, I used to be obedient. There's a difference. I used to be Bruce's little, golden cow."

“He treated you well.”

“When I fell in line,” he says.

You fall quiet again. Dick scoots closer. You scoot away. 

"You know I've already let a few of the humans go. For you, honey. As a sign of goodwill. I'm not totally heartless, you know."

You roll your eyes. 

"Right. Well, us cattle don't find it merciful when we're sent out on our own to die, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't thank Your Highness on my knees."

"You are not cattle," Dick says fiercely. "Don't talk about yourself that way."

"My life is no less human and no more important than theirs," you say, temper flaring. "So, yes, I am."

"That's���"

You fall off the roof before he can say any more. Your stomach swoops similarly to how it would if you were awake. But then the stars bleed into the skyline, and there's a flash of golden light. 

And now you're in a bedroom. It's not one you recognize, richly decorated with golden accents and silk sheets and curtains. You'd almost mistake it for a room at Wayne Manor. 

"Now this is much better, don't you think? You're wearing my favorite color."

You look down and see that your pajamas have been swapped for a long, blood red, chiffon nightgown. It hugs every curve and dip of your body, the sleeves and collar trimmed in soft fur. The neckline is somewhat modest, but the fabric is totally see-through past your thighs. 

It's something a queen would wear. 

"Beautiful," Dick murmurs, voice rough. "Fuck, honey. This is the sort of thing you should wear all the time."

"Change me back," you demand. "I am not a doll for you to dress up, Dick."

"No, of course you're not. This is just a taste of how you'd live if you were with me, my love."

"I will never live with you. I'd rather die."

Dick hums, then draws closer. You back up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He prowls further, eyes sharp like he's hunting prey. Your pulse quickens and you have to remind yourself that this is just a dream. 

"What happened to us?" he asks softly. "I know that, at one point, you loved me."

"Yeah, that was before you turned into a monster. I loved a man." 

"I'm no more monster than any of the men you've known," Dick says. 

You scoff. "God, where'd you get that one? Jason?"

Dick smiles, and it almost looks human. "No, that was a Grayson original. And it's true. Man has never been good. You don't like me because now I drink a little blood?"

"I don't like you because you used to be good, and now you're not."

He hums. "I'm not all bad, my love. I can be subdued, tamed. You want me to be tame? I can be good for you. I can give you anything your heart desires. Our wants are the same.”

Dick eases you backwards onto the bed. You shouldn’t let him. Shouldn’t like the cold press of undead flesh against your heat. Shouldn’t like how he holds you, how convincing he sounds. You know your wants aren’t the same, that Dick is playing you, and you’re being easy.

But… but it's not like you'll ever see him for real again. No one will know. 

And God, it's been so long since anyone touched you. You pined for this, what seems like forever ago. Dick Grayson wanting you had felt impossible, until it wasn't… but by then, he'd become the very thing you'd sworn to hate. 

"This–” You swallow. “This isn’t right.” 

But your legs part for him to kneel between. 

"Tell me to stop and I will. I serve you first."

Dick hovers over you, hands planted on either side of your head. You're getting wet. You ache in more ways than one. 

"This is cruel," you whine.

"I don’t mean to be cruel,” he says gently. “Do you want me to stop, my love? My beautiful queen, who hasn’t been touched in so long. You’ve needed me, haven’t you?”

“Not–not your queen,” you say, panting, but you let him in, let him settle above you. 

“If you say so, my love," he says, nuzzling your neck. You tense even though he can't actually bite you. 

His fingers thread with yours. The position is unbearably intimate. You’d forgotten how romantic Dick was. How loving. Briefly, you wonder if he kept that through the shift.

It’s impossible, you insist as he kisses your jaw.

"You're a dream in red," he purrs. "I might prefer it to you in blue, but it's a close call."

"Your ego is ridiculous," you say, and Dick unlinks one hand to pet the apex of your thighs with two fingers. You're still clothed, and you're still dreaming, but the heat and pressure and slick feel so real. 

"The sounds you're making certainly don’t keep my ego in check," Dick says with a proud grin, fangs on display. 

Then he rips your underwear off, ducks between your legs, and licks you until you cry. 

You arch off the bed, and even in the dream, his strength is easy, one hand keeping you pressed to the bed. Dick pushes one of your legs up to get a deeper angle, moaning into your cunt. Your leg goes up easily even though in real life, it would pinch. You’re not as flexible as he is.

"Dickie," you cry, tears slipping down your cheeks because it's so good, it feels real, you wish this was real, wish you had him back. 

He nips your thighs, groans into your sex. Dick ruts the mattress, the first loss of control he's shown. It makes you wetter, knowing that he's so gone for you. It's sick to like such a thing, but you never stopped loving him, not really. You can't seem to reckon the man from the monster. 

You come hard on his tongue, and he keeps licking until you push him away. 

"You haven't been touched in ages, I bet," he says, lips shiny with your arousal. His eyes are a brighter red. His chest heaves. He looks hungrier than before he started.

"Been a bit busy,” you say when your brain comes back online. “End of humanity and all that."

His eyes go soft. You hate that he can still make that look. 

"Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you let me take care of you? You belong at my side."

You scowl. "I don't belong anywhere, Dick. Certainly nowhere near you."

His eyes glitter and he grabs you by your hips and kisses you. You let him, because you're absolutely pathetic and because you haven't been touched in ages.

Dick laughs against your mouth and peppers kisses on your throat before pulling away. 

"I'll send your team food. They won't even know it's me," he says, half-lidded. "My beloved queen. You'll never starve. I didn't know it was so bad."

"I am not your queen and I don't need your charity. In fact, you know what? I'm waking up. Right now."

Dick smiles, and kisses your hand. Then he gets off of the bed, and fixes his collar. He must be aching in his slacks, dream or not, but he straightens up like he has all the time in the world to fuck you. Like he knows you’ll be back.

"Of course, my love. Whatever you want. Till next time."

The dream fades from a golden bedroom to your dark, tiny hole of a room you've camped in for a few months. 

You turn your head and look at the clock. It's still late. 

Your thighs ache. Your mouth tingles where he kissed you. 

You swore to never pledge yourself to the Vampire King. But you never made any such promises about Dick Grayson.

[alewritesfics]

Bridging realities

ℑℑℑ.- 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤....𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

Summary: in which Y/N's slight actions start to- or you'll see on your own.... His POV

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

The night air was cool against Anthony’s skin as he stepped onto the garden, a welcome reprieve from the stifling confines of the ballroom. The distant hum of laughter and music filtered through the open doors, but out here, the world was quiet. Peaceful.

He leaned against the balustrade, running a hand through his hair and exhaling sharply. The evening had been relentless—a parade of bright-eyed ladies and their overly enthusiastic mothers, each vying for his attention, each more determined than the last.

And then there was her.

Anthony’s brow furrowed as his thoughts returned to Miss Featherington. She was unlike the others—sharp, playful, and entirely unpredictable. Most women he encountered were eager to flatter, eager to please, but she… She teased him. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, it both infuriated and intrigued him.

He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the way her gaze had met his so boldly, so unflinchingly. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that—not as a title, not as a prize to be won, but as a man.

Anthony shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when his responsibilities weighed so heavily on him. His family’s future depended on his choices, and his choices had to be logical and calculated. There was no room for impulsive emotions, no room for the kind of connection Miss Featherington seemed to inspire.

And yet…

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the cool breeze brush against his face. He’d always prided himself on his control, on his ability to compartmentalize his feelings and focus on what truly mattered. But tonight, something about her had unsettled him.

“Bridgerton!” his eyes opened as he was called, he turned his name to see a gentleman he was acquainted with (Honestly I forgot the names of them and am too lazy to search so they’ll be man 1,2 and 3)

He sighed, annoyed his alone time was interrupted but walked towards them nonetheless. “I owe you a drink” man 1 said

“Whatever for?” Anthony asked, looking between the three of them

“With you as the prize catch of the season, the rest of us shall receive a respite from the marriage minded mamas this season indeed” man 1 smirked

“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts” Anthony responded “You, too, will soon submit to this ridiculous rigmarole of courtship,” The doors opened a few feet away, a young beautiful lady walking out without their knowledge. “Squiring every eligible miss around town until you’re barely able to see straight”

“Is one lady unlike any other?” man 2 asks “Simply pick the least objectionable and get her wed, bed and bred. Then you can turn to more pleasurable pursuits”

“And more pleasurable partners” The lady walked down the stairs, quietly walking behind a big bush to listen more closely “You may be cavalier, but if I must leg shackle myself in marriage, the lady in question should have more to recommend her”

“Do not tell us you are hoping for a love match?” Man 1 jokes

“Love is the last thing I desire,” Anthony denied “But if my children are to be of good stock, then their mother must be of impeccable quality. A pleasing face, an acceptable wit, genteel manners enough to credit a viscountess” Anthony was surprised as the words left his mouth, remembering a questionably intriguing redhead said that was what he was looking for. His lips twitched slightly but he composed himself “It should not be hard to find, and yet, the debutantes of London fall short at every turn”

“You want the best. Perhaps the queen will finally name a diamond. Save you some trouble, at least of choosing her, wooing the piece is a different story indeed” Man 2 stated

“I should have no problem there” Anthony crossed his arms smugly, making the men laugh

Man 1 patted himself, “Smoking room, gentlemen?”

“I Shall be there anon” Anthony told them before the three men left, leaving him alone.

Anthony was about to leave when the sound of someone bumping into something stopped him “Is someone there?” he asked, looking back. He walked down the stairs, curious to see what it is “I can hear y-“

“You” He said with a smile as he stared at the mysterious woman he encountered days ago

“Pardon me, my lord” The woman sighed without emotion

“I never got your name” Anthony approached her “I was wondering if we might meet again” he crossed his arms behind his back, giving the woman a glance over

“So you might discern if my wit is acceptable? My manners genteel?” she said with annoyance

Anthony’s smile faded “You were eavesdropping?”

“It was hardly an effort, seeing as you were proclaiming your many requirements for a wife loud enough for the entire party to hear-“

“You take issue with my requirements?”

“I take issue with any man who views women merely as chattels and breeding stock” The lady said angrily

“None of that was meant for-“

“Viscount Bridgerton, yes?” the woman interrupted him, taking a step closer towards him “When you manage to find this paragon of virtue, whatever makes you think she will accept your suit? Are the young ladies of London truly so easily won by a pleasing smile and absolutely nothing more?”

Anthony was about to respond when he stopped, taking in her words before chuckling, remembering the same words said by a blue eyed, red headed beauty, some minutes ago, completely ignoring the young lady before him, finding humor in the coincidence.

“You are laughing?” the woman said offended

“no, no,no” Anthony apologized “my apologies, it is just someone told me the same thing before” his mind went once again towards the redhead. Seems like there is more women that share her particular ideals. If they are friends, then he can see why Y/n gets along with Eloise, both a pair of strong opiniated women.

“Then, seems like that person is someone you should listen to” The woman said

Anthony breathed out a chuckle, something indescribable in his eyes “yes���. yes, perhaps I should” he shook his head before looking at the lady again “If you excuse me…. I shall bid you goodnight” he bowed his head before walking away from the young lady

He’s starting to think balls were his thing (hehe balls). Or maybe balls where you were present that is. Although he will never admit that. Or the fact that as he was currently stepping down the stairs behind his mother and sister, and his brother talking beside him, all his eyes did was search around the ballroom, in hopes of seeing a particular lady.

“Anyone here you’ve not yet rejected?” Benedict spoke beside him

Anthony turned to look at his brother, clearing his thoughts “You’re the artist,” His eyes went to the crowd once again “Do you see anyone remotely inspiring?” He cannot help the small smirk that showed on his face as his eyes caught sight of you next to Penelope “We shall have a diamond tonight and I’ll shall choose my wife”

He followed his mother as she brought Eloise in front of the queen, tuning out their conversation as his face unconsciously turned slightly to keep the redhead in sight. He turned back towards the queen, bowing in tune with his family before they left.

“If the queen, in fact, names Eloise the diamond, who will you marry then, brother?” Benedict asked

Anthony turned to look at him “Hush you” He left before benedict could respond as he saw a certain lady leave Penelope’s side and head towards the refreshments table.

Anthony approached the refreshment table with an easy stride, his gaze lingering on you as you delicately poured yourself a glass of lemonade. The crowd around him faded into a dull hum as he drew closer, his curiosity piqued by the way you seemed so at ease, yet entirely detached from the chaos of the ballroom.

“Miss Featherington,” he said smoothly as he stopped beside you, reaching for a glass himself. “I see you’ve discovered the most sought-after corner of the evening.”

You glanced up shocked before a flicker of amusement showed in your eyes. “Lord Bridgerton,” you greeted, your tone polite but teasing. “I wasn’t aware the refreshment table was the highlight of the night.”

Anthony chuckled, swirling the champagne in his glass. “It’s simply a strategic choice. Much safer here than braving the dance floor—or the relentless matchmaking.”

“Ah,” you said with mock seriousness, turning your body to face him “The infamous Bridgerton charm, evading mamas and their daughters alike. I imagine you ae a master at that by now.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “I might say the same about you. I don’t see you dancing with any suitors of your own”

You tilted your head slightly “Sorry to disappoint you but I do not have any suitors” You state

Anthony frowned “How can that be? You’re beautiful” He blurted unconsciously. Your eyes widened at his words, a blush filling your cheeks

His eyes widened as well as he processed what he said “I-I-I mean.” He cleared his throat “I meant that you- you have a charm to you that men cannot deny that you are pretty”

You smiled “Thank you, my lord” you said, hiding your glee at his compliment “Oh, I- I’m sure you have matters to tent to. I wouldn’t dream of monopolizing your time. Surely, there’s a line of young ladies waiting for their turn with the Viscount.”

Anthony shrugged, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Oddly enough, the only company I find myself seeking at the moment is yours.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, though you quickly recovered. “You clearly know how to flatter a lady, Lord Bridgerton. Is this how you court a lady?”

“Flattery?” He placed his glass down with an easy smile. “Not at all. I simply speak the truth.”

“Well, then,” you said, your tone light but edged with curiosity. “If this is the truth, then I wouldn’t dare to say otherwise”

Your gaze held his for a beat too long before you broke the moment with a small laugh. “Well, I hope tonight proves memorable for you, my lord.”

“Oh, it already has,” he said, his voice low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could respond, the trumpets sounded as the queen stepped down to make an announcement.

“Your presence is noted, and your queen most appreciative,” the queen started to say “Allow it to now be my honor to present to you the season’s diamond” she looked around at all the guests

“Miss Edwina Sharma”

You let out a small smile before turning towards Anthony “There you have your new wife” you teased

He turned to look at you “What?” he looked confused

“Was it not the lady that the queen chose the one that is going to be your wife?” You asked

“Where on earth did you hear that?” Anthony said confused

“I have my ways” You shrugged “But anyway, go introduce yourself”

Anthony frowned “I- “

“Go” You urged him “I’ll see you later” Anthony gave you one last look before heading towards the new diamond

“She is a lovely diamond, dearest” Anthony’s mother approached him after the dance with Miss Edwina.

Anthony would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried after finding out that the woman he made such a bad impression on was Miss Edwina’s sister, making things just a bit difficult. Miss Edwina was nice, answering all of his questions with sincerity, awareness and intelligence. She is exactly what he wanted if he was going to marry out of duty.

But surprisingly, he cannot help but think back on the featherington girl. You were…different, you challenged him and you weren’t in awe of him like every other lady in London (If only he knew)

“Anthony?” His mother called out when he didn’t respond

He turned to look at his mother, shaking away every thought of you. No matter how much he enjoyed talking to you, how refreshing he found you to be.

You incited things in him he didn’t dare to pursuit more or acknowledge, things that went against everything he said he would never do, surprising considering you’ve spoken, truly spoken, not small greetings like the ones you gave each other whenever he came across the featherington family or when you accompanied Penelope to her meetings with Eloise, but full conversations for a total of like two times.

It unnerved him.

“She is nice” Anthony agreed with his mother, looking down.

He had to put duty above everything else.

“She is…who I shall marry” Anthony stated, his eyes catching a flicker of red hair from the corner of his eyes, he gave his mother one last glance before walking away

⏮️ ⏸️ ⏭️

*those in white are blogs which don't have their mentions on and thus I couldn't tag them*

Taglist:

@heyyitsreign

@imafangirlofeverything

@stopeatread

@smartiepants217

@magical-spit

@ifilwtmfc

@kitkat27

@zestygingergirl

@electronicexpertshark

@annareidprofiler

[psyduckz]

“i really did like you” queen of compartmentalization. she said boyfriend or horror dimension… and then tried to shove sam in ajdhskd

[reidmarieprentiss]

Capturing the Queen

Summary: You are Alex's daughter, Spencer is a fan of the whole family.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, swimsuits, swimming, alcohol consumption, mild injury/hospitalization of Alex, you are the adoptive daughter, chess playing

Word count: 19.6k

a/n: live laugh love alex blake !! would be honored if she adopted me ,, she seems like she would be the coolest mom ,, also lowkey wanted her to have a chance at motherhood after you know...

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f), protected PinV, fingering (f) nipple play (f&m), strip chess

In the softly lit hospital room, the steady beeping of the heart monitor played a continuous, albeit unsettling, rhythm. Spencer Reid sat beside Alex Blake's hospital bed, his hands folded tightly in his lap, his eyes tracing the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, a stark contrast to the usually composed genius. Every so often, he'd run a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that had become more pronounced under stress.

The door creaked open, and a young woman stepped in, her presence like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Spencer looked up, his expression full of curiosity and concern. The woman's eyes, remarkably stunning, scanned the room before settling on Spencer with an inquisitive tilt of her head.

"Hi, you must be Spencer," you introduced yourself, your voice a comforting melody amidst the sterile echoes of the hospital. Spencer stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, his movements awkward in his urgency.

"Yes, I—I'm Spencer Reid. You're Alex's...?" he trailed off, not wanting to assume.

"Daughter," You finished for him with a gentle smile. "I was away for work, I just got back and came straight here to see how she's doing. So… how is she?"

Spencer's eyes shifted back to Alex, lying so still on the hospital bed. "She's stable now, but it was a close call," he admitted, the weight of the situation momentarily tightening his voice. "She saved two children from that unsub before—"

"Before she got hurt," You interjected, nodding slowly, your eyes itching with tears that you fought to keep at bay. "That sounds just like her. Always putting others first."

You both watched Alex, the silence between you both filled with shared worry and respect for the woman who had impacted your lives so profoundly. You moved closer, taking the seat Spencer had vacated, reaching out to gently touch your mom’s hand.

Spencer watched intently as the familial bond unfolded before him, the tender gestures between Alex and her daughter revealing a side of Alex he hadn't known. There was an unmistakable warmth in your interaction, a stark contrast to the clinical, often impersonal environment of the BAU.

"I wasn’t aware Alex had a daughter," he admitted, a sheepish tone coloring his confession as he brushed over his hair, a clear sign of his discomfort with the oversight.

"Ah, yes," you replied with a gentle nod, understanding his surprise. "That sounds like mom, never mixing business with her personal life." Your voice held a note of pride, acknowledging Alex's meticulous compartmentalization of her work and home life.

"I suppose that makes sense," Spencer responded, his voice thoughtful, reflecting his acceptance of Alex's privacy.

"I don’t take offense to it, it’s okay. You can relax," you reassured him, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth, trying to ease the tension you saw etched on his face.

Spencer let out a deep breath, more for show than necessity, his hand passing through his hair yet again in another rare display of vulnerability. "I’m sorry, I’m a little shaken up," he confessed, the ordeal of the day catching up to him now that the immediate danger had passed.

"I can imagine," you said, your voice softening with empathy. "Do you want to go home and rest? I can stay with her." Your offer was sincere, wanting to provide him some relief from the harrowing day.

"That would be great, thank you," Spencer accepted gratefully, relief visible in his eyes as he prepared to take your advice.

"My pleasure, have a nice rest, Spencer," you called out softly as he gathered his belongings, your voice carrying the warmth and assurance that he needed as he stepped out of the hospital room, leaving you to watch over Alex in the quiet of the night.

—

The morning light filtered through the blinds of the hospital room, casting a gentle glow on the figures within. Alex Blake's eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing you seated by her side, a wave of relief washed over her face, transforming into a grateful smile.

"How was the lecture?" Alex asked with a hint of her usual humor, her voice still a bit groggy from the effects of the medication and the ordeal she had endured.

"A lot better than getting stabbed!" you teased, your tone light and playful, aiming to bring a little levity to the situation. "Do you need anything?" you added, shifting in your chair to give her your full attention.

"Definitely more drugs, this hurts like a bitch," Alex responded half-jokingly, grimacing slightly as she tried to adjust her position on the hospital bed.

"I'll fetch a nurse, maybe if you put on a nice face they'll give you the good stuff," you winked at her, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the door to find a nurse.

The relationship you shared with your mom was built on a foundation of deep mutual respect and love, interspersed with a healthy dose of humor that helped you both through tough times. As you walked out of the room to seek assistance, you reflected on how grateful you were to have such a strong and courageous woman as your mother.

As you navigated the quiet hospital corridors on your mission to procure some relief for your mother, you unexpectedly bumped into Spencer Reid. He was holding a stack of papers while walking, likely some research, but he looked up with a slight start when he saw you.

"Well hello, fancy seeing you here," you greeted, a light chuckle escaping your lips at the coincidence.

"Oh, hi. How is she?" Spencer asked, his concern genuine, his brow furrowing slightly as he adjusted his stance to face you more directly.

"Awake and asking for drugs. I don’t suppose you’re the kind of doctor who could administer those?" you joked, an amused sparkle in your eyes.

"No, most definitely not. But I can find one for you," Spencer replied promptly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile at your playful comment.

"I won’t say no to that, thanks," you said, appreciative of his offer to help. With a nod, Spencer turned to leave, presumably in search of a medical doctor.

You returned to Alex’s room, a smile tugging at your lips as you recounted the encounter to her. "I ran into Spencer, and he’s finding a doctor for us," you informed her, watching as a knowing look passed over her features.

"So you met Spencer?" Alex’s voice held a hint of mischief, her eyes twinkling despite her discomfort.

"I did indeed, he is exactly as you described him," you confirmed, settling back into the chair beside her bed.

"Charmingly awkward and annoyingly intelligent?" she quipped, a faint laugh accompanying her words.

"From what I have observed, yes," you agreed, playing along with her characterization.

"You know… he's only got about five years on you," Alex added nonchalantly, but with a teasing tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

"That’s amazing, Alex, what’s cooking in your scary noggin?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious about her sudden interest in the age difference.

"Nothing, my sweet pea, nothing at all," she responded, her expression feigning innocence which didn't fool you one bit.

"I don't believe you for a sec—" you started to say, but were interrupted as the door swung open.

The doctor walked in with Spencer in tow, cutting off your playful interrogation. Spencer gave a small wave, looking slightly embarrassed to be caught in the middle of your family moment, but also relieved to have found the help Alex needed. As the doctor approached the bed to discuss pain management, you exchanged a grateful glance with Spencer, feeling oddly reassured by his presence in this unsettling environment.

After the doctor had left, having administered the necessary medication and made some adjustments to Alex’s treatment plan, Spencer lingered in the room. His analytical mind shifted into high gear as he began to run through his own checklist to ensure that Alex was indeed okay.

He approached the bedside, his eyes scanning the various monitors displaying Alex’s vital signs. “Her heart rate seems stable, and her oxygen levels are good,” Spencer muttered more to himself than anyone else, his fingers hovering just above the data without touching anything.

Turning to Alex, Spencer’s demeanor softened. “How are you feeling now? Any dizziness, nausea, or excessive pain?” he inquired, his voice filled with genuine concern. He knew the importance of patient self-reporting in assessing pain management efficacy.

Alex managed a small smile, appreciating Spencer's thoroughness. “I’m okay, thanks to you and your timely intervention,” she said, her voice still weak but steadier than before.

Spencer nodded, satisfied with her response but still visibly concerned. He then pulled up a chair, positioning himself where he could keep an eye on both Alex and the door. “I’ll stay for a bit, just to make sure everything settles well. I read some recent studies on post-operative care that suggest monitoring for at least an hour after new medication is administered can drastically reduce complications,” he explained, crossing his arms as he settled into the role of a temporary guardian.

“You always were the diligent one,” Alex quipped, her tone light despite her condition. Her eyes met yours, a spark of mischief in them suggesting she enjoyed seeing this side of Spencer, which she so fondly teased him about.

Spencer, slightly embarrassed by the praise, shifted uncomfortably but smiled. He was about to comment back before you spoke up from your chair. 

"You were right in your assessment, Mom, annoyingly intelligent," you teased, glancing over at Spencer, whose face fell into an expression of mock offense at the jest.

"What?" he managed, his voice laced with feigned indignity, which only added to the humor of the moment.

"Oh shush, you," Alex intervened gently, her voice carrying a hint of laughter despite her condition. She turned to Spencer, adding, "You’ll have to excuse her rude behavior; she’s adopted, didn't get the nice gene I carry."

"Wow, Alex—" Spencer started, his tone a blend of amusement and shock, but he was cut off by your cackle.

"She’s not even kidding! I was adopted!" you exclaimed, joining in the lighthearted teasing, your laughter filling the room and lightening the atmosphere.

Spencer looked from you to Alex and back again, his initial surprise morphing into delight at the easy flow of humor and conversation. A genuine smile spread across his face as he shook his head, his earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of such familial warmth.

The playful banter continued to fill the room, bringing lightness and smiles to an otherwise dreary hospital setting. Spencer listened, clearly enjoying the spirited exchange between you and Alex.

"So she's probably not as good at crosswords as you, huh?" Spencer teased, joining in the fun while glancing between you and Alex.

"She wishes! I kicked her ass last time we went toe to toe," you declared with a proud grin, challenging your mother's claim.

"Did not!" Alex retorted, her competitive spirit flaring up despite her condition.

"Did too!" you shot back, both of you unable to keep straight faces.

"Well, Spencer could take you any day," Alex added, throwing a sly look towards Spencer, playfully dragging him into the challenge.

Spencer's reaction was immediate; he sputtered, caught off guard by the double entendre embedded in Alex's statement. His cheeks flushed a faint pink as he quickly tried to regain his composure, fumbling for a response. "I—uh, well, I do enjoy a good crossword," he managed to say, his voice cracking slightly under the unexpected spotlight.

—

The hospital discharge process on that Thursday was a mixture of relief and anxious anticipation. As you assisted your mom with her belongings and helped her into the car, the drive back home was filled with plans and promises—chief among them, your commitment to stay with her until your dad could return from his overseas work. Living independently in Lynchburg had given you a sense of freedom being three hours away, but in times like these, family needed to come first.

Alex, stubborn as stubborn gets, was set on returning to work at the BAU by Monday. Her determination was palpable, a testament to her indomitable spirit. "I'm fine, really. Sitting at home isn't going to make me any better. I need to be doing something," she insisted, brushing off your concerns with a stubborn tilt of her head that left no room for argument. Her resolve was as firm as ever, as unyielding as a mule.

Come Monday morning, the atmosphere at the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit was one of cautious celebration. Team members exchanged smiles and warm greetings as Alex walked in, her stride confident but perhaps a tad slower than usual. Each welcome was tinged with a touch of concern, reflecting the team's collective relief and residual worry.

Hotch was the epitome of a caring yet cautious leader. Approaching Alex, he offered a sincere smile that reached his eyes—a rare occurrence that didn’t go unnoticed. "Welcome back, Alex. Are you sure you’re ready to be back?" His tone was gentle yet firm, the underlying note of authority making it clear that her well-being was his priority.

Alex, understanding the weight of his concern, nodded firmly. "I appreciate it, Hotch, but I’m ready. Sitting around isn't really my style, you know that," she replied, her voice carrying that familiar steely resolve.

Hotch studied her for a moment longer, assessing her demeanor and the subtle signs of her recovery. Finally, he gave a slight nod, the gesture conveying both his approval and his continued vigilance. "Alright, but we’re keeping the workload light for now. Let’s ease back into it," he decided, setting parameters that he hoped would safeguard her health without stifling her need to contribute.

—

In the quietude of the BAU breakroom, the gentle hum of the coffee machine served as a backdrop for a seemingly casual conversation between Spencer Reid and Alex Blake. Both were in the process of making coffee, an activity that allowed them a few moments of respite from the demands of their jobs.

“How are you doing?” Spencer inquired, pouring hot water into his mug, his tone carrying genuine concern as he glanced over at Alex.

“Oh, you know me, I’m fine. Needed to get back to work or I’d go crazy,” Alex responded with a wry smile, her hands expertly handling her coffee with practiced ease.

“Is it hard having your daughter stay with you?” Spencer asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he added a spoonful of sugar to his drink.

“What? Oh my goodness, no! That girl is the light of my life; she is the only person who can keep me sane aside from my husband,” Alex gushed, her face lighting up at the mention of you. Her affection and pride were unmistakable.

“She seems nice, funny,” Spencer noted, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he recalled the brief interactions he’d had with you.

“Yeah? Is that all you liked about her?” Alex prodded, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I mean, she is clearly intelligent. I appreciate that in a person,” Spencer added, running his fingers through his hair, a sign that he was thinking more deeply about the question than he initially let on.

“Anything else?” Alex continued, her tone teasing yet probing, as if trying to unearth something Spencer hadn’t yet admitted to himself.

“What are you getting at?” Spencer finally asked, a touch of defensiveness creeping into his voice, his eyebrows knitting together in mild confusion.

“Nothing… nothing,” Alex replied, her voice light, though her eyes danced with unspoken implications. She turned away, focusing on finishing her coffee, allowing the question to linger in the air between them.

They continued to tend to their coffees in silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Just as they were finishing up, and Alex was about to walk back to the bullpen, she threw a comment over her shoulder to Spencer, “She’s single, you know?” The words hung in the air as she left, leaving Spencer slightly flustered and more thoughtful than before.

Alex’s parting remark added a new layer to Spencer’s contemplation as he stood in the breakroom, stirring his coffee slowly. The possibility of something more than professional respect or friendship with you seemed to be gently placed in front of him, courtesy of Alex’s subtle matchmaking. Whether or not he would explore that possibility remained an open question as he resumed his day, the idea quietly percolating alongside his morning coffee.

—

In the BAU office on Friday afternoon, the topic of Alex Blake's previously undisclosed daughter became the center of attention. Penelope Garcia, always vibrant and inquisitively affectionate, approached Alex with her characteristic flair.

"Alex Blake! Why am I just now finding out you have a daughter?" Penelope bombarded her in a friendly manner, her curiosity piqued after Spencer had let slip that you had visited the hospital.

"Because I didn’t tell you, Spencer did?" Alex retorted with a playful raise of her eyebrows, a slight smile touching her lips as she turned the tables back on Penelope.

"He did, and thank God for him. Can we meet her?" Penelope pressed, her enthusiasm undimmed.

"I don’t see why not, she’s back home in Lynchburg though," Alex explained, her tone suggesting she was open to the idea, but practical considerations of distance and timing were not lost on her.

"Reid, how far away is that?" Penelope quickly directed her question to Spencer, who was nearby.

"Three hours by car, give or take due to traffic and time of year," Spencer calculated swiftly.

"So she could come back for a weekend?" Penelope continued, already planning in her mind.

"I suppose. I will float her the idea. She is a professor, though, so no promises she will be free anytime soon," Alex tempered expectations, mindful of your professional commitments. Little did they know, you had taken the term off to focus on research, a detail Alex was careful not to disclose prematurely.

Suddenly, Derek Morgan chimed in, having caught the tail end of the conversation. "Blake, you got a daughter?" His interest was as quick as his smile.

"Mhm, I do," Alex affirmed, not missing a beat.

"How old is she? Is she cute?" Derek's questions rolled off his tongue before he could censor them, typical of his straightforward charm.

"Derek Morgan!" Penelope chided, her tone playful yet reproving.

"26-years-old. She is," Alex laughed, not at all offended, appreciating the lighter mood her team brought to the end of a challenging week.

Derek's suggestion to bring you down for a weekend and take you to a bar sparked a lively debate among the BAU team members. The atmosphere was charged with the kind of camaraderie that often led to spontaneous planning sessions for team outings.

JJ, overhearing the spirited discussion, decided to offer a different twist, stepping into the conversation with a more relaxed suggestion. "Or we could finally get Rossi to let us use his pool," she interjected, knowing that a gathering at Rossi's house could offer a more intimate and relaxed setting for everyone.

"Yes!! I love that, that is what we will do," Penelope declared with a flourish, her enthusiasm sealing the decision with finality. Her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of organizing another memorable team gathering, this time perhaps with a new face among them.

The idea of a pool party at Rossi's house quickly gained unanimous approval. The team envisioned a laid-back afternoon filled with laughter, good food, and the chance to unwind together outside the usual high-stakes environment of their daily work. 

Alex, watching the exchange, felt pride and slight apprehension. Introducing you to her colleagues in such a casual setting was a big step, but she wanted to trust her team implicitly. She knew that once the plans were set, she would have to give you a call to discuss the upcoming weekend, hoping you'd be as excited about the prospect as everyone seemed to be.

—

Alex reached for her phone and dialed your number. As the phone rang, she found herself hoping you'd share the team's enthusiasm for a weekend visit.

"Hey," Alex began as soon as you picked up, her voice warm and inviting. "I have something potentially fun to propose to you. The team was talking, and they really want to meet you. How would you feel about coming down for a weekend? They're planning a little get-together at Rossi's place—he has a pool, and it's going to be quite the relaxed day."

You responded with excitement, your voice brightening up the call. "That sounds amazing, Mom! I'd love to come down and meet everyone. It'll be nice to see where you work and meet your colleagues."

Alex's heart swelled with joy at your enthusiasm. "Great! They're all excited to meet you, too. Penelope is already planning what she calls 'the ultimate pool party,' so it should be a lot of fun. We can sort out the details later, but I'm just really glad you're up for it."

"Absolutely, I wouldn't miss it for the world," you assured her, the smile in your voice unmistakable. "Just let me know the dates, and I'll make sure I'm there."

"Will do," Alex confirmed, her relief and happiness evident. "I'll send you the details once we finalize everything. Love you and can't wait to see you!"

"Love you too, Mom. See you soon!" you replied, already looking forward to the weekend.

Hanging up the phone, Alex felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Your willingness to engage with her world at the BAU brought her immense comfort and pride. She couldn't wait for the weekend, eager to bridge her two worlds—one of work and one of family—into a single, joyful occasion.

—

As the car rolled through the scenic route leading to Rossi's expansive property, the windows were down, allowing the breeze to carry in the scents and sounds of a perfect weekend. You glanced over at Alex, who was focusing on the road but with a relaxed smile playing on her lips.

"So, is the whole team going to be there today?" you asked casually, your curiosity partly piqued by the descriptions of the various team members you had heard so much about, but especially wanting to see Spencer.

Alex caught the subtle undertone in your question and decided to have a little fun with it. She knew from Spencer's embarrassed reactions and your shy inquiries that there might be a budding interest there. "Oh, the whole team? Well, let's see," she began, her voice teasingly slow. "There's Rossi, of course, it’s his house after all. Derek, Aaron, JJ... they wouldn’t miss it. Penelope has been talking about this non-stop, so yes, she’ll be there with bells on."

You waited, noting she hadn't mentioned Spencer yet, and raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

"And then there might be one or two others, you know, the quiet types who prefer to keep a low profile but somehow always end up being the life of the party," Alex continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she finally glanced your way.

"You’re being vague, Mom," you pointed out with a laugh, not missing her playful tone.

"Am I? Maybe a little," Alex conceded with a laugh. "Okay, okay, Spencer will be there. He’s actually quite looking forward to it. Mentioned something about bringing a special book for poolside reading—only Spencer would bring a book to a pool party."

You smiled, feeling a flutter of anticipation at the mention of Spencer's name and his quirky habits. "Sounds like it’s going to be a great day," you said, your voice light and hopeful.

"Absolutely," Alex confirmed, turning into the driveway that led up to Rossi’s beautifully landscaped front yard. 

The conversation eased any lingering nerves as the car pulled to a stop. Today wasn't just about meeting the team; it was about fun, relaxation, and perhaps, a little bit of new friendship blossoming under the warm sun by Rossi's pool.

—

As you followed Alex through Rossi's ornate gate, the backyard unfolded into a whimsical mermaid-themed paradise, courtesy of Penelope's vibrant and imaginative decorating style. Streamers in various shades of blue and green fluttered in the breeze, and inflatable sea creatures bobbed in the pool, creating a playful and inviting atmosphere.

"Wait until you see this," Alex said with a chuckle, leading you towards the bar where Savannah and Derek were busy concocting colorful drinks. Both looked up as you approached, their faces lighting up with welcoming smiles.

"Ah, the guest of honor!" Derek exclaimed, his voice warm and teasing. He offered you a mock bow, his charming grin infectious. "Welcome to Rossi’s mermaid lagoon. Can I interest you in a 'Siren’s Call' or perhaps a 'Mermaid’s Kiss'?" he asked, gesturing to the array of drinks with a flourish.

Savannah, chimed in with a playful wink. "Ignore him, he’s been trying to perfect that drink just to use the name as a pickup line all afternoon." She extended her hand in greeting. "I’m Savannah, Derek’s girlfriend. It’s so nice to meet you."

You couldn’t help but laugh, immediately put at ease by their friendly banter. "It’s great to meet you both, too. I’ll start with a 'Mermaid’s Kiss', it sounds like it could be the start of a fun story," you replied, playing along with the theme and their light-hearted demeanor.

Derek quickly set to work, mixing the drink with practiced ease. "Only the best for Alex’s star," he said as he handed you the colorful concoction, garnished with a small umbrella and a twist of lime.

Savannah leaned in slightly, her tone conspiratorial. "So, how are you liking teaching? Derek tells me you’re a professor."

Alex watched with a mixture of pride and amusement as you interacted with her colleague and his beau. It was clear that Savannah and Derek were making a special effort to make you feel welcomed and included, their playful flirting just part of the friendly and open nature of the team.

David Rossi, the gracious host and impeccable in his role, approached the bar with a warm, inviting smile. He was dressed casually yet with an unmistakable elegance that suited his character. Upon seeing you, his eyes lit up with genuine interest, and he extended a hand for a firm, welcoming handshake.

"Ah, you must be Alex's daughter! I've heard so many wonderful things," Rossi greeted you enthusiastically. His demeanor was that of someone who took great pleasure in hosting and ensuring everyone felt at ease.

"It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Rossi," you replied, appreciating the warmth of his welcome.

"Please, call me Dave," he insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And since I'm the one who has the honor of this fine establishment," he gestured grandly to his beautifully decorated backyard, "let me take you on a tour and introduce you to everyone else."

Rossi's offer was punctuated with a charming smile, and he waited courteously for your acceptance.

"That sounds wonderful, thank you," you responded, eager to meet the rest of the team under such friendly auspices.

As you followed Rossi through the vibrant, sunlit backyard, his strides confident yet unhurried, you approached where JJ and Penelope were seated, their laughter carrying over the gentle splash of pool water. Their conversation paused as they looked up, noticing Rossi's approach with a new face beside him.

"JJ, Penelope, I'd like you to meet a very special guest today—Alex's daughter," Rossi introduced you with a warm gesture towards you. His voice held a note of pride, as if he was introducing someone of importance, which in his eyes, you certainly were.

JJ stood up immediately, her expression open and welcoming, "It’s so wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you." Her greeting was accompanied by a friendly hug, which felt comforting and genuine.

Penelope, the vibrant soul of the team, beamed at you from her seat, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement. "Oh my gosh, it's finally so nice to put a face to the name!" she exclaimed, rising to give you a soft squeeze. "We've got to catch you up on all our little secrets," she added with a wink, implying the gossip they were indulging in just moments before.

Rossi chuckled softly, clearly amused by Penelope's unabashed enthusiasm. "Be careful, Penelope might recruit you into her next scheme of fun," he joked, his tone light and teasing.

The interaction felt incredibly warm, and the ease with which both JJ and Penelope included you in their circle spoke volumes about the team's camaraderie. They quickly resumed their lighthearted gossip, seamlessly weaving you into the conversation.

"So, who's in the hot seat today in the world of celebrity mishaps?" you asked, playing along with Penelope's earlier hint.

Penelope clapped her hands delightedly, thrilled at your engagement. "Oh, you are going to love this one," she started, diving into a colorful recounting of the latest Hollywood faux pas, with JJ chiming in with her observations.

As Rossi watched the exchange, a content smile played on his lips. It was clear to him—and soon to you—that the BAU team was not just a group of colleagues but a family, one that was now opening its arms to you. His role as the host had subtly shifted to that of an observer, pleased with the seamless integration of new and old members of his extended family.

Rossi continued guiding you through the festive backyard, his next destination being where Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid were situated. They had positioned themselves slightly apart from the more boisterous groups, each enjoying the serene atmosphere in their own way—Aaron relaxed with a slight smile on his face, eyes closed, and Spencer absorbed in a book, his typical form of relaxation.

As you approached, Rossi announced, "Aaron, Spencer, look who's here to join us."

Hotch opened his eyes and sat up straighter, offering a welcoming nod and a professional, "It's nice to meet you." His greeting, though brief, was filled with the quiet respect he accorded all his team's family members.

Spencer, on the other hand, reacted with a more visible shift in demeanor. He looked up from his book, and upon seeing you, his face lit up with an eager smile, quickly tempered by a hint of nervousness as he stood to greet you. His movements were a bit awkward, typical of Spencer when he was flustered or overly excited.

"Hi, it's really good to see you again," Spencer said, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual. He extended his hand for a handshake, then seemed to reconsider, pulling it back slightly before committing to the gesture.

As you greeted him, Spencer's eyes briefly met yours, but then, seemingly overwhelmed, darted away. He glanced at the book in his hand as if considering whether to explain what he was reading, then back at your face, and finally, his gaze drifted—albeit quickly and almost guiltily—over your attire. Your cover-up was sheer, hinting at the swimsuit beneath, and despite his best efforts, Spencer found it challenging to maintain steady eye contact, his cheeks coloring slightly.

Rossi, noticing Spencer's discomfort, chuckled softly and clapped him on the shoulder. "Spencer here was just reading about some of the finer points of historical linguistics. Weren't you, Reid?" he teased, trying to ease the tension and bring Spencer back into his element.

Spencer nodded, grateful for the diversion. "Yes, um, it's quite fascinating how language evolves over time and—" He caught himself, realizing he might be diving too deep too quickly, and offered a more restrained smile. "But that's probably not very interesting poolside talk."

Aaron, ever the observer, added with a smile, "Spencer's always ready to teach us something new."

“I’m always eager to learn something new,” you said with a flirty undertone, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you took in Spencer’s outfit.

He blinked, slightly startled by your boldness but clearly flattered, his cheeks taking on a faint pink hue. "Well, I suppose I have plenty of interesting facts I could share," he replied, attempting to match your playful energy, though there was a hint of nervousness in his tone.

You stood next to him, the conversation flowing effortlessly amidst the summer ambiance. "I like this look on you, by the way," you commented, gesturing to his Hawaiian shirt with a smile. "It suits you."

Spencer chuckled, adjusting his sunglasses as he responded, "Thanks. You look great too, very summery."

The mutual compliments created a relaxed ease between you, and you noticed his eyes lingering on you with admiration and bashfulness. Despite his usual analytical nature, the hint of awkwardness only added to his charm.

Rossi, observing the exchange with a knowing smile, eventually excused himself, leaving you both to enjoy the peacefulness of the afternoon and the opportunity to get to know each other better. With the sound of the pool splashing in the background and the distant hum of music playing, the day felt full of promise and potential.

“I think I’ll go get another drink and put my feet in the water, do you want to join me?”, you offered to Spencer as your conversation fizzled naturally. 

Spencer hesitated, his reservation momentarily overriding the tempting offer. "Um, maybe. I might meet you in a little," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty but also a hint of hopefulness that he might indeed muster the courage to join you soon.

As you walked away, the gentle sway of your cover-up catching the light breeze, Aaron Hotchner watched the interaction with a small, knowing grin. He turned to Spencer, who was clearly lost in thought, and remarked casually yet pointedly, "You two seem to get along nicely."

Spencer's response was quick, both defensive and embarrassed. "Leave it alone, Hotch," he muttered, trying to mask his flustered state with a brief glance back at the book he had barely read since you arrived.

"I didn’t say anything," Aaron replied, his voice smooth and teasing, a rare break from his usually stoic demeanor.

"You didn’t have to," Spencer retorted, his tone softening, acknowledging the implicit understanding that his feelings—or at least his interest—were quite transparent to his perceptive boss.

Aaron chuckled softly, allowing the conversation to drop, respecting Spencer's privacy. He knew well the challenges his team faced in balancing personal lives with the demands of their intense careers. Observing Spencer's interaction with you brought a rare paternal sense of pride; he was always quietly supportive of his team's happiness outside the stressful confines of their work.

Spencer, left to his thoughts, watched you from a distance as you mingled effortlessly with the others, his mind racing with possibilities and the fear of stepping out of his comfort zone. The gentle nudge from Hotch was both unnerving and reassuring.

As Spencer sat absorbed in his internal debate, his attention was unwittingly captured by your movements. You, perhaps feeling the heat more intensely, decided it was time to embrace the full spirit of the pool party. With a graceful motion that seemed as natural as the breeze around, you slipped off your sheer cover-up, revealing the vibrant swimsuit underneath.

The sight momentarily stunned Spencer, his usually sharp mind faltering as he took in the way the fabric of your swimsuit embraced your figure. It was a simple moment, one often repeated in such settings, but for Spencer, it was as if time had slowed down. The pattern and the cut of the swimsuit accentuated your curves beautifully, catching him completely off guard.

As you turned to sit at the pool's edge, your back to him, Spencer's face flushed a deeper shade of red. He was an adult, well-versed in the biological responses of the human body, yet found himself embarrassingly unprepared to deal with his own reaction. His swimsuit, betraying his attempt to remain composed, began to feel uncomfortably tight.

Spencer hastily pulled a towel over his lap, his eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed his discomfort. He felt a mix of adolescent awkwardness and adult embarrassment, his mind racing with both scientific explanations for his physiological reactions and a desperate wish for them to cease.

He took a deep breath, trying to refocus on the book in his hands, but the words blurred before his eyes. With a slight shake of his head, he chided himself silently for his lack of control. It was just a swimsuit at a pool party, after all—perfectly normal. Yet, the simplicity of the situation did little to calm his racing heart or cool his flushed cheeks.

Spencer realized that his feelings were perhaps more complicated than he had initially allowed himself to acknowledge. The book now forgotten, he shifted his focus back to the sounds of the pool party, using the laughter and splashing as a lifeline to pull himself back to the reality of the festive day around him. He needed a moment to collect himself, to restore the balance between his intellectual mind and the surprisingly strong emotional responses elicited by your mere presence.

Derek's voice cut through Spencer's thoughts, a lifeline thrown with impeccable timing. "Yo Reid, come join us!" he hollered, waving from the pool where he and others were splashing around, clearly enjoying the perfect balance of sun and water.

"Coming!" Spencer's response came out higher-pitched than he intended, a squeak that betrayed his nervous energy. He set his book down, decisively pushing aside his hesitation as he stood to remove his shirt. The action was simple, revealing the lean, wiry frame he usually kept hidden beneath layers of button-ups and cardigans.

As you watched Spencer join the festivities, you couldn't help but appreciate the view. His torso, though not heavily muscled, was toned and fit. A small patch of hair led intriguingly into his trunks, adding a surprisingly human detail to the brilliant mind you knew him to be.

Caught up in the moment, you didn't realize your gaze had lingered a bit too long until you caught your mom's eye. Alex, quite observant, gave you a teasing look, wiggling her eyebrows in a silent commentary on your obvious interest. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, and you playfully flipped her off, which only made her chuckle softly.

Spencer, who was in the process of applying sunscreen, caught the tail end of this exchange. He looked from you to Alex, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Alex, maintaining her role as both mother and subtle matchmaker, simply winked at him, a silent endorsement of the budding interest she witnessed.

Spencer, now shirtless and a little more exposed than he usually allowed himself to be, took a deep breath and managed a shy smile. He made his way to the pool's edge, his initial embarrassment fading into a quiet resolve to enjoy the day fully—not just as Dr. Reid, but as Spencer.

As Spencer made his way into the water, Derek's voice boomed across the pool area, filled with his typical teasing bravado. "Woo-hoo! Pretty boy in the pool!" he cheered, clapping his hands in mock celebration, his wide smile indicating his pleasure at getting Spencer to join the fun.

Spencer, now somewhat accustomed to Derek's ways, rolled his eyes good-naturedly and shot back, "Keep it down, Morgan, or I'll start sharing all your college stories." His voice carried a light threat, but the grin on his face showed he was in the spirit of the jest.

Savannah, floating nearby on an inflatable raft, laughed and joined in the banter. "Oh, I want to hear those stories, Spencer!" she called out, her tone playful. "Especially the ones Derek never tells."

Derek waggled a finger at both Spencer and Savannah. "Traitors, the both of you," he joked, splashing water their way, which only incited more laughter.

You, watching the exchange from the edge where you'd just dipped your feet into the cool water, couldn't help but laugh at their antics. "Don’t let him bully you, Spencer. You have full immunity here!" you chimed in, giving Spencer an encouraging nod.

Spencer, feeling buoyed by the support, pretended to ponder your words. "Hmm, full immunity? This could be interesting," he mused aloud, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, Derek, how about we start with the story of the mascot costume and the dean’s car?"

Derek’s laughter boomed louder, and he splashed towards Spencer, who quickly retaliated, and soon a playful water fight ensued. Savannah cheered them on, while you clapped, thoroughly enjoying the light-hearted energy.

As the splashing settled, Derek wrapped an arm around Savannah, pulling her close with a wet but warm embrace. "Alright, alright, no more secrets today," he conceded, still laughing. "Pretty boy gets a pass—for now."

The afternoon sun shone brightly over the scene, casting a sparkling sheen on the water and highlighting the smiles on everyone’s faces. 

Derek's voice carried across the water, teasing yet inviting, as he called out to you, "Hey, mini Blake, why don't you take the plunge and actually join us?" His playful challenge echoed around the pool, drawing chuckles from the others.

You glanced around, feeling the friendly eyes of the group on you, including Spencer's encouraging smile. With a spirited laugh, you stood up from your spot at the pool's edge, deciding to respond to Derek's challenge with equal gusto.

"Alright, you asked for it!" you declared. With a running start to gather momentum, you sprinted a few steps and executed a graceful cannonball into the pool, causing a splash that drenched Derek and a few others nearby.

As you surfaced, wiping water from your face, you were met with applause and more laughter. "Nice entrance!" Spencer commented, clearly impressed by your bold move.

Derek splashed water towards you, still grinning. "That's the spirit! Now it's a real party!" he exclaimed, his tone boisterous.

As the fun and games continued between Derek and Savannah, now joined by JJ and Penelope, you and Spencer found yourselves swimming towards the edge of the pool to take a quieter break. You both rested your arms on the ledge, the water lapping gently around you. The ambiance of the party—lively and loud in the background—created a sort of intimate bubble for the two of you to chat away from the crowd.

Spencer, who was usually more reserved, seemed to relax as the conversation between you flowed easily. He laughed softly at a joke you made, his eyes lighting up with genuine amusement. However, as he became more comfortable, he found his gaze inadvertently drifting. Despite his best intentions, Spencer couldn't help but notice how the water accentuated your figure, particularly how your swimsuit clung to your curves. His eyes, almost of their own accord, kept flicking towards your chest before he would catch himself and hurriedly look away, cheeks tinged with a flush of embarrassment.

Noticing his discomfort, you decided to steer the conversation to a safer topic, perhaps something academic or related to a shared interest, to put him at ease. "So, Spencer, you mentioned a book you were reading earlier? What's it about?" you asked, giving him an opening to divert his attention to more familiar ground.

Spencer seemed grateful for the change in topic, quickly seizing the opportunity to talk about something he was comfortable with. "Oh, yes, it's actually quite fascinating," he began, his enthusiasm bubbling as he delved into a description of the book. It was a historical analysis of cryptology used during the Cold War—a subject that captivated him. As he spoke, his hands animatedly moved, illustrating the complexities of code-breaking and espionage.

As the conversation between you and Spencer continued to flow, light and engaging, you noticed that despite his initial efforts to focus on the intellectual topics at hand, his gaze occasionally wandered back down. Deciding to address it with a touch of humor to keep the atmosphere relaxed and flirty, you gave him a playful smile.

"Spencer, do I have something on my swimsuit? You keep looking down," you teased, your tone light but with a teasing undertone, trying to make light of his nervous glances.

Caught in the act, Spencer's face turned a deeper shade of red, and he stammered for a moment, searching for the right words. "Oh, uh, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I mean, I wasn't..." he trailed off, clearly flustered but also trying not to seem rude or inappropriate.

Realizing he was genuinely embarrassed, you laughed softly, aiming to ease his discomfort. "It's okay, Spencer. I'm just teasing you. But if you keep looking, you might owe me a compliment or two to make up for it," you suggested, your smile widening, giving him a clear signal that you weren't offended but rather amused by his bashfulness.

Spencer's relief was clear as he managed a small, shy smile in return. "Well, in that case," he began, taking a moment to compose himself, "I think you look... really beautiful today. The sunlight and the water just... I mean, you looked beautiful last time too, but today it's just more, I guess."

Your heart warmed at his earnest compliment, and you could tell by his expression that he meant every word, even if it was delivered with a touch of Spencer's typical awkward charm. "Thank you, Spencer. That's very sweet of you to say," you responded, your voice softening, appreciative of his sincerity.

The tension dissolved, replaced by a newfound comfort. You both continued chatting, the conversation now sprinkled with more shared laughs and less hesitation. As the pool party carried on around you, your interaction became a memorable highlight of the day.

—

As the afternoon sun began to wane, casting long shadows over the pool area, Rossi decided it was the perfect moment to transition from water activities to a more laid-back dining experience. He moved towards the grill, a practiced hand at hosting, and began to fire it up, signaling a shift in the day's activities.

"Alright, everyone, let's give the pool a break and gather around for some good food!" Rossi announced, his voice carrying over the chatter and splashes. His call was met with enthusiastic responses, as the guests, including you and Spencer, began to make your way toward the designated dining area, where tables were set up under a string of lights that flickered softly in the evening air.

The smell of grilling food filled the air, a blend of spices and smoke that promised a delicious meal. As people settled around the tables, you found yourself sitting next to Spencer, the earlier poolside interaction having naturally drawn the two of you closer.

With plates filled with grilled delights—vegetables charred to perfection, juicy steaks, and flavorful chicken—the conversation flowed freely. You and Spencer, now more comfortable with each other, delved into topics that revealed more about your personalities and backgrounds.

"So, what got you interested in your field of work?" you asked Spencer, genuinely curious about what drove his passion for his often intense and challenging job.

Spencer, appreciative of the opportunity to share more about his work in a casual setting, responded thoughtfully. "I've always been fascinated by the workings of the human mind, the how and why people do what they do. It's like solving a puzzle, but every piece is a human action or decision," he explained, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of sharing his passion.

"And what about you? Alex might have mentioned you were doing some research this term. What's it about?" Spencer turned the question around, showing his interest in your pursuits.

You shared your research focus, explaining the complexities of your study in a way that made it accessible yet intriguing. "It's about the intersection of technology and human interaction. How digital spaces shape our perceptions and relationships," you explained, watching his reaction closely.

"That sounds incredibly relevant, especially considering how much of our lives are intertwined with technology now," Spencer noted, his response thoughtful and encouraging.

As the meal progressed, the ambiance around the tables was warm and inviting, with laughter and stories exchanged freely. Rossi, moving between groups, ensured everyone had what they needed, his hosting skills making the evening seem effortless.

After the plates cleared and everyone settled into a comfortable lull, full and content, Rossi leaned back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, nothing brings a team together quite like sharing war stories—and I'm not just talking about the cases we've solved. How about we go around and share some of our most memorable—or better yet, embarrassing—field moments? I'll start."

The group perked up, eager to partake in the storytelling. Rossi recounted a tale from his early days in the FBI, involving a mistaken identity, a runaway dog, and a mud pit that left him looking less than dignified at a critical moment. The story drew hearty laughs and set a jovial tone.

Encouraged by Rossi's self-deprecating humor, Hotch followed with his own story, sharing a rare glimpse into his less stoic side with a tale about a botched undercover operation that involved an accidentally activated car alarm during a stakeout.

The mood lightened, and one by one, team members chimed in with their own stories. When it was Spencer's turn, he hesitated for a moment, his natural shyness creeping in. But encouraged by the laughter and the supportive atmosphere, he began to share.

"So, there was this one time I was sent to collect evidence from a very cluttered antique shop," Spencer started, his voice holding amusement and embarrassment. "I was navigating through aisles crammed with delicate items, and I accidentally bumped into a shelf."

You leaned in, intrigued, as Spencer continued, "Everything happened in slow motion. I tried to catch one falling vase, which led me to knock over another, and it ended up being a disastrous domino effect of antiques crashing around me. I was mortified, especially when the shop owner came running."

The table erupted in laughter, not at Spencer's expense but in shared sympathy for the awkward situation. Spencer's face was a shade of red, but he was smiling, relieved to have shared the story and found humor in the reflection.

"Needless to say," Spencer concluded, "I learned a valuable lesson in spatial awareness that day, and I think I single-handedly funded the shop's insurance claim for the next year."

Your laughter mingled with the others, and you found yourself admiring Spencer's willingness to share such a humbling moment. It showcased his endearing vulnerability and his capacity to laugh at himself—a side of him that wasn't always apparent in the seriousness of his work.

—

As the evening began to wind down, with the laughter and conversations tapering into more subdued exchanges, Spencer found himself gently cornered by Alex, her expression earnest and somewhat conspiratorial. Under the soft glow of the garden lights, Alex's face was both motherly and determined.

"Are you going to do it?" she asked, her tone direct yet encouraging.

Spencer, caught off guard, roused his hair nervously. "Do what?" he responded, feigning confusion though he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what Alex was referring to.

"Ask her out," Alex clarified, her gaze piercing as she studied Spencer's apprehensive demeanor.

"Alex… she's your daughter," Spencer replied, the words tinged with both respect and hesitation, as if that fact alone was a significant barrier.

"And?" Alex countered, undeterred. "I'm giving you my permission and encouragement." Her voice was soft but firm, a clear indication she had considered this conversation beforehand.

"She lives three hours away," Spencer pointed out, trying to find rational reasons to temper what he feared was a growing interest on his part, one he wasn't sure how to navigate.

"You both have cars," Alex retorted quickly, almost as if she had anticipated every excuse he might offer.

"We travel a lot," Spencer added, his tone reflecting the logistical complications of his job.

"So does she," Alex responded smoothly, her confidence unshaken.

"Why are you so adamant this happens?" Spencer finally asked, his frustration mingling with curiosity. He was typically analytical, preferring to understand the variables in any equation, and Alex's push was a variable he hadn't expected.

"Why are you so adamant that it doesn’t?" Alex shot back, her question sharp and to the point. She paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Spencer, I know my daughter, and I know the kind of person who could make her happy. You're a good man, and regardless of the logistics, I think you could make each other very happy. Don't let fear of a few road trips get in the way of something that could be wonderful."

Her words, spoken with a mix of motherly insight and friendly advice, gave Spencer pause. He looked over to where you were laughing softly with Derek and Penelope, the warm light casting a glow around you. Something in his chest tightened with hope and hesitation.

Alex placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch reassuring. "Think about it, Spencer. Life’s too short for what-ifs."

As Alex walked away, leaving Spencer to his thoughts, he knew she was right. The challenges of distance and schedules were surmountable, but the risk of never exploring what could be between him and you was not. With a deep breath, Spencer resolved to think it over, Alex’s words echoing in his mind as he watched you from across the garden, pondering the possibilities that lay ahead.

Your approach caught Spencer slightly off-guard as he stood there lost in thought, the soft lighting of the garden illuminating the gentle curiosity in your eyes. "Hey doctor," you greeted, your tone light and friendly.

"Hi," Spencer responded, his voice a mixture of warmth and a hint of nervousness that he couldn't quite mask.

"What are you doing over here all alone?" you inquired, stepping closer to him, your presence effortlessly comforting.

"Thinking," he admitted, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away as if to gather his thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you offered, a playful tilt to your voice that seemed to ease some of the tension from Spencer's shoulders.

"For you, for free," he replied with a small, genuine smile, appreciating the ease with which you interacted with him. "Does your mom always try to set you up?"

"Set me up? As in pranks or dates?" you asked, a little laugh escaping you as you pondered which kind of setting up Alex might be more likely to engage in.

"Well, I'm curious about the pranks. But for now, dates," Spencer clarified, his tone suggesting he was treading into more personal territory.

"No, she has never tried to set me up on a date," you said, genuinely surprised by the revelation.

"She just did," Spencer confessed, watching your reaction closely.

"With who?" Your question was quick, filled with curiosity and a flicker of excitement.

"Me," he admitted, his heart rate picking up as he gauged your response to this unexpected twist.

"Did it work?" you asked, a playful yet meaningful question hanging between you, the night air filled with the potential of what might come next.

"I'm not sure yet," Spencer said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a hopeful smile.

"Can I help you decide?" Your words were bold, stepping into the space he offered, both literally and metaphorically.

"Maybe," Spencer replied, his smile broadening, touched by your forwardness and the sincerity behind it. His academic mind knew the complexities of human relationships, yet here, with you, it seemed simpler, more natural.

As you both stood there, the soft noises of the party in the background, a comfortable silence fell over you. It was the kind of moment that seemed to pause, allowing both of you to savor the potential of a new beginning. Spencer felt a rare sense of anticipation, a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying, as he considered what it might mean to take a chance on what your mother had so boldly orchestrated.

"Let's take a walk," you suggested, gesturing towards the garden path that wound its way around Rossi’s property. "We can talk about pranks and other catastrophes."

"Lead the way," Spencer said, a newfound lightness in his step as he joined you, ready to explore wherever this unexpected conversation might lead.

As you and Spencer began your walk along the garden path, the ambient lighting from the party casting gentle shadows around you, the atmosphere seemed ripe for deeper conversation. The air was cooler here, away from the crowd, and the quiet provided a perfect backdrop for getting to know each other better.

"So about those catastrophes... what did you have in mind?" he joked, his tone light and teasing as you both strolled along the garden path.

"Well, you could take me to dinner and I could spill hot soup on your lap," you quipped back, a mischievous glint in your eyes. The suggestion was absurd enough to draw a genuine laugh from Spencer, who seemed more at ease with each passing moment.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed, playing along with the scenario. "That sounds disastrous...and painful. Maybe we should skip the soup and go straight to dessert to avoid any potential accidents." His smile was easy, and his suggestion carried a hint of an actual date proposal, testing the waters to see how you'd respond.

"And that's where you're wrong, Dr. Reid. Too much sugar and I could throw up on you," you joked, your eyes twinkling with humor. This back-and-forth was shaping up to be an entertaining dance of wits.

A mock look of horror crossed Spencer's face as he considered your warning. "Well, that would certainly make for a memorable first date, wouldn't it?" he said, his tone light but with a laugh that suggested he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

Spencer's quick wit met each of your playful challenges with a matching jest, his eyes sparkling with delight at the banter that seemed only to draw you two closer. "Indeed! We could see a movie?" you suggested, shifting the conversation to potentially safer territory.

"Hmm, but then someone could talk the whole time, ruining our whole experience," he countered, raising an eyebrow in feigned concern.

"How rude! Then we’ll just have to have a picnic in the park," you offered up another alternative, your voice laced with laughter.

"And get ticks? Do you want to die?" Spencer retorted, a dramatic shiver accompanying his words.

"No, I guess not," you laughed, the absurdity of the escalating scenarios adding a light-hearted tone to the evening. "Maybe we shouldn’t go out then? Safer that way," you teased, gauging his reaction to the mock suggestion.

Spencer paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you, a sincere smile spreading across his face. "I don’t know, the reward seems worth the risk," he finally said, his voice lowering slightly in a more earnest tone. This simple statement, layered with meaning, seemed to anchor the playful conversation with a genuine expression of interest.

The air between you grew charged with the unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming, as if the jokes and laughter had woven a thread that pulled you inevitably closer. Spencer's admission, veiled though it was in the ongoing joke, hinted at a deeper sentiment, suggesting that whatever minor calamities might accompany a date, the chance to spend time together outweighed them all.

"Alright, Dr. Reid," you responded, matching his serious tone with a lightness that kept the mood buoyant. "Let’s take that risk. Dinner, a movie, or even battling ticks in the park—let's just make sure it's memorable."

Spencer nodded, his agreement sealing the playful pact. "It’s a date then. And who knows? It might just be disaster-free."

"Boring," you giggled, playing along with the teasing theme of your budding relationship. "Do you happen to have a cell phone, Spencer? Or should I start writing you letters?"

Spencer's eyes lit up with amusement at your mention of letter writing, a hint of old-fashioned charm mingling with modern flirtation. "I'd love to exchange letters with you," he said earnestly, “but… the U.S. postal service doesn’t allow for the speed at which I’d like to plan our date.”

"Oh, so you're eager then?" you teased, leaning in slightly.

"Absolutely," Spencer replied, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "When it comes to something—or someone—important, I believe in being timely."

"Well, in that case," you continued, matching his earnest tone with a playful smirk, "perhaps modern technology can serve us better. Shall we exchange numbers instead? It might not be as romantic as a letter, but it’s certainly quicker."

Spencer nodded, readily agreeing as he pulled out his phone, a slightly old model that seemed to suit his slightly out-of-time character. "That sounds like a plan. We can save the letter writing for less urgent communications. Like... thank you notes after the date?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow in a question that also seemed to confirm there would indeed be something to be thankful for after your date.

You both exchanged phones to input your numbers, the action feeling both significant and natural. As you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed briefly, sending a small, unintentional spark of anticipation through both of you.

"Thank you notes sound promising," you said, locking your phone with his number saved. "But let's make sure there's plenty to be thankful for."

"I have no doubts about that," Spencer replied, his confidence surprising even himself. He was usually more reserved, but something about you drew out a more assertive side of him.

—

In the gentle hum of the car on the way home, Alex couldn't resist teasing you a bit more, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating a knowing smile on her face. "You're going to marry Spencer," she declared, her tone playful yet hinting at the underlying seriousness of a mother who's seen a spark worth noting.

"Shut up, mother," you replied, your voice a mixture of embarrassment and affection, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile. Despite the protest, there was a flutter of excitement in your heart, a small part of you wondering about the possibilities that lay ahead with Spencer.

The car ride became a cocoon of warmth and laughter as Alex continued to tease gently, and you deflected with feigned annoyance. But underneath the playful banter, there was a shared understanding that this evening might just be the beginning of something special.

—

As soon as Spencer arrived home, the quiet of his apartment amplifying the excitement of the evening, he found himself reaching for his phone. He wanted to maintain the connection that had so pleasantly marked the day, and sending a text seemed like the perfect way to cap off the night. He opened a new message, typing with a hint of eagerness that felt both thrilling and slightly unfamiliar.

As he sent the message, a small part of him worried about appearing too eager, but the genuine enjoyment he'd felt throughout the evening bolstered his confidence. Spencer believed in honesty and direct communication, values that seemed even more important when it came to someone he found as intriguing as you.

Your phone buzzed lightly on the table, drawing your attention away from the evening’s winding down thoughts. You picked it up to find a message from Spencer, his words bringing a warm smile to your face.

Home safe. Thank you for a wonderful evening. When can I see you again?

The message was simple but laden with the kind of earnestness that was quintessentially Spencer. Eager to keep the conversation going, you quickly typed back.

Glad you made it back safely! I had a great time too. How about this weekend? I don’t mind driving back, mom said a new cafe opened downtown…

Sending the message, you felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of continuing to explore the budding relationship. Spencer's quick response not only showed his interest but also reassured you that the feelings were mutual, setting the stage for what could be the next of many beautiful moments together.

—

Driving into Quantico on Friday evening, you were filled with anticipation and a touch of nervous excitement. You didn’t want to risk being late for your morning date with Spencer, so you decided to spend the night at your mom’s place. It turned out to be the perfect decision, as you and Alex spent the evening together in a flurry of girlish excitement.

The night was a delightful throwback to your teenage years—painting nails, doing each other's hair, and giggling like schoolgirls over the prospect of your upcoming date.

"Do you think he’ll like this shade?" you asked, holding up a bottle of nail polish.

"Oh, definitely," Alex replied with a conspiratorial grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But the real question is, will he be able to keep his eyes off you?"

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at her teasing. The evening passed with laughter and stories, your mom sharing her own tales of first dates and romantic adventures. It was a bonding experience that left you feeling both nostalgic and buoyant about the day ahead.

—

When Saturday morning rolled around, you were up early, butterflies dancing in your stomach. Spencer was due to pick you up at 9 AM, and as the clock ticked closer to the hour, you found yourself checking the mirror more than once to make sure everything was perfect.

Right on time, a knock echoed from the front door. Spencer’s punctuality was something you appreciated—it spoke of his character and his consideration for others. Alex opened the door, greeting Spencer with her usual warmth and a hint of teasing that seemed to run in the family.

"Good morning, Alex," Spencer greeted, standing on the doorstep with a slight nervousness that was both endearing and charming.

"Morning, Spencer. Don’t you look handsome?" Alex complimented, her eyes twinkling as she took in his outfit. Spencer had opted for his classic style—a simple cardigan over a button-up shirt. It was understated yet put-together, reflecting his thoughtful nature.

Spencer blushed at the compliment, glancing down at his clothes with a shy smile. "Do you think she’ll like it?" he asked, his tone earnest.

Before Alex could respond, you rounded the corner, catching him off guard. "I think so," you said with a playful grin. "Although I think suspenders would have really tied the whole look together."

Your teasing made Spencer chuckle, his initial nervousness dissipating in the warmth of your humor. "I’ll remember that for next time," he replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Alex laughed, stepping aside to let Spencer in. "Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Have a wonderful time," she said, giving you a knowing smile before retreating to give you both some privacy.

You and Spencer exchanged a quick, excited glance as he offered you his arm. "Shall we?" he asked, his voice filled with the promise of a day spent in good company.

"Absolutely," you replied, taking his arm and feeling a thrill at the beginning of what was sure to be a memorable date. The morning was bright, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the world seemed to open up before you as you stepped out the door, ready to explore the day together.

As you walked towards his car, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement, the anticipation of a new chapter with someone who had quickly become more than just an acquaintance in your life. Spencer, with his thoughtful nature and quiet charm, had intrigued you from the start, and now, with the day ahead, you were eager to see where this path might lead.

“So far, so good…” you mumbled to yourself as Spencer started driving, trying to calm your nerves with a little humor.

“What was that?” he laughed, glancing over at you with a curious smile, clearly enjoying the light-heartedness of the morning.

“Well, neither of us fell down the steps, and you haven’t crashed the car,” you joked, trying to keep things upbeat despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Yet,” he added, winking playfully.

“Thank you for reminding me,” you shot back with a grin, your nerves easing a bit at his playful attitude.

“Just keeping your expectations in check,” he teased, his voice carrying that signature blend of intelligence and humor that you were already growing fond of.

—

When you arrived at the new café, Spencer wasted no time showing off his gentlemanly side. He quickly rounded the car to open your door, then opened the café door to let you in, a small but meaningful gesture that made your heart skip a beat. He was attentive and respectful, qualities that seemed to define him beyond his impressive intellect.

As you both approached the counter, Spencer insisted on paying for your drink and pastry, despite your playful protests. “I’ve got this,” he said with a smile, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Alright, but next time, it’s on me,” you playfully warned, accepting his kindness while making a mental note to repay the gesture in the future.

Once seated in a quiet corner booth, the cozy ambiance of the café surrounded you with the soft aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods. However, as you settled into your seat, a wave of nerves washed over you. You were sitting across from the sweetest, most intelligent man you’d ever met, who also happened to be incredibly handsome. The weight of the moment suddenly felt significant, and you found yourself worrying about making a good impression.

What if you said something wrong, and he decided this would be your last date? Or worse, what if you two started dating, and he realized later on that you weren’t worth his time? The thoughts were relentless, and you tried to push them aside, but they lingered, casting a shadow over your otherwise perfect morning.

As if sensing your unease, Spencer reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on your forearm. His touch was reassuring, grounding you in the present moment. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked softly, echoing the words you’d used back at the pool party, his eyes full of genuine concern and interest.

You took a deep breath, smiling at his thoughtful gesture. "I'm afraid they're going to cost more than that," you replied, attempting to keep your tone light, though the hint of anxiety was still present.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, showing his empathy. "You don’t have to worry. I’m here because I want to be," he said, his voice sincere and calming. "Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as daunting as it seems."

His words offered comfort, a reminder that this date wasn’t an audition or a test but rather an opportunity to enjoy each other’s company. Spencer was someone who valued authenticity and kindness, and he was sitting here with you, eager to learn more about who you truly were.

Taking a sip of your coffee to steady yourself, you decided to share a bit of your inner turmoil. "I guess I’m just overthinking things," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "Sometimes I worry about saying the wrong thing or not living up to expectations."

Spencer nodded, understanding reflected in his eyes. "I know how that feels," he said. "But I’m really enjoying getting to know you, and there’s no pressure here. Just be yourself—that’s more than enough."

His reassurance was like a balm to your nerves, the sincerity in his eyes melting away your fears. You realized that Spencer, with all his brilliance and kindness, was just as interested in discovering the real you as you were in discovering the real him.

With that understanding, the conversation flowed more freely. You found yourselves laughing over shared interests, discussing your favorite books, and even diving into topics that revealed your mutual curiosity about the world. As the morning unfolded, you felt more and more at ease, confident in the knowledge that this was just the beginning of a meaningful connection.

—

Once you and Spencer had spent a considerable amount of time talking and enjoying each other's company in the cafe, you both realized it was probably time to head out. The two of you exchanged a knowing glance as a group of patrons eyed your now empty cups and plates, clearly hoping to claim your cozy corner booth for themselves.

Stepping out onto the bustling sidewalk, the sun was now high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets. The air was filled with the lively energy of a city on a Saturday morning, and the thought of ending your date felt premature.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, turned to you with a hopeful expression. "I hope this doesn't come across as too eager," he began, his eyes earnest and sincere, "but I really don't want this to end yet."

His admission made your heart skip a beat, the sincerity behind his words sparking a flutter of excitement. "I like eager, and I like you," you replied with a smile that matched his, both playful and genuine. "I don't want this to end either. What should we do?"

Spencer paused, considering his options before speaking again. "Is it presumptuous to invite you to my apartment?" he asked, his tone carefully casual, though the question carried a subtle undertone of hopefulness.

Feigning shock, you exaggerated a pout, leaning into the playful dynamic that had defined your morning together. "I knew it," you said, shaking your head with mock disapproval.

"What?" Spencer looked genuinely confused for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher your expression.

"You just want to get in my pants," you teased, maintaining the pout for effect but letting a mischievous smile slip through.

Spencer's face flushed a deep shade of pink, his eyes widening in surprise and mild horror. "No, no, that's not— I mean, I didn't mean it like that," he stammered, scrambling to explain himself as you watched with growing amusement.

Unable to keep up the charade, you broke into laughter, the sound infectious and lighthearted. "Relax, Spencer," you reassured him between giggles, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm just messing with you."

His expression softened, relief washing over him as he joined in your laughter, though still a bit flustered. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?" he admitted, shaking his head with a sheepish grin.

"You did," you agreed, playfully bumping your shoulder against his. "But in all seriousness, I'd love to see your place. And maybe continue our conversation over another cup of coffee or a game of chess?"

Spencer's face lit up at your suggestion, his enthusiasm unmistakable. "I have an excellent chess set," he said, eager to share a part of his world with you. "And plenty of coffee. My apartment is just a short walk from here."

As you strolled side by side through the lively streets, you felt a sense of anticipation building. The playful banter and shared laughter from earlier had created a comfortable atmosphere.

—

The walk to Spencer's apartment was filled with easy conversation, each of you sharing snippets of your lives, interests, and quirks. By the time you reached his building, you felt as if you'd known him for much longer than the short time you had.

Spencer led you up the stairs to his apartment, his excitement palpable as he unlocked the door and welcomed you inside. The space was neat and organized, with bookshelves lining the walls, each one filled to the brim with an impressive collection of literature.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Spencer said with a shy smile, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable. "I apologize for the mess," he added, though the room was anything but.

"It's perfect," you assured him, taking in the cozy surroundings with genuine admiration. "I feel like I'm in a library. I love it."

Spencer beamed at your compliment, clearly pleased by your appreciation for his carefully curated space. "Would you like something to drink?" he offered, making his way to the small kitchen area. "I've got coffee, tea, or if you're feeling adventurous, I make a pretty decent hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate sounds perfect," you decided, settling into a comfortable chair and looking around the room with interest.

As Spencer prepared the drinks, you wandered over to the chess set he had mentioned earlier, admiring the intricate design and thoughtful arrangement. When he returned with two steaming mugs, you were already setting up the pieces, eager to see how the game would unfold.

You eyed the chess pieces thoughtfully, arranging them with a bit of flair. "So, Dr. Reid," you said with a teasing lilt, "are you ready to face your greatest challenge yet?"

Spencer chuckled, running a hand through his hair and setting his pieces with meticulous care. "Are you sure you're up for it? I've been known to have a few tricks up my sleeve," he replied, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"Oh, I can handle a challenge," you grinned, meeting his gaze with equal enthusiasm. "And I’ve got a few surprises of my own."

As the game progressed, each move was accompanied by playful commentary. Spencer, confident yet humble, often narrated his strategies, while you countered with a mix of humor and mock intimidation.

"Interesting move," Spencer noted as you advanced your bishop. "Trying to catch me off guard, are we?"

"Maybe," you said with a wink, feigning innocence. "Or maybe I'm just setting a trap you'll never see coming."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, considering his next move. "I must admit, you play with a certain flair," he remarked, capturing one of your pawns. "But you might want to watch your back row there."

The banter continued as the board grew more intense, the stakes feeling delightfully high as each of you tried to outmaneuver the other.

"Are you this competitive with everything, or is it just chess?" Spencer teased, leaning back slightly as he observed the board.

"Only when I'm winning," you shot back, sticking out your tongue playfully. "I’ve heard rumors that you're quite the prodigy, though. Should I be worried?"

"Only if you hate losing," Spencer replied, his smile broadening. "Though I’m starting to think you might just be my match." Not really, but he likes you so he can pretend.

"Oh, is that so? Well, I've been known to surprise people," you said, feigning an air of mystery.

As the game drew closer to its conclusion, you both found yourselves leaning forward, caught up in the tension and excitement.

"Check," you announced triumphantly, moving your queen into a position that put Spencer's king at risk.

He looked at the board, feigning surprise. "You do realize this isn’t over yet, right?" he said, moving his king to safety.

"I know," you admitted, grinning. "But I like to keep you on your toes."

"Mission accomplished," Spencer said, making his next move with careful deliberation. "But don't think you've got me beat just yet."

—

Spencer watched with amusement as you performed a little victory dance in your chair, your eyes gleaming with triumph. He had let you win, hoping to see this very reaction—the way you lit up with glee at having outsmarted him, at least for this round. However, as your playful taunting continued, he couldn’t resist the urge to reclaim his honor on the chessboard.

“Oh, come on!” you teased, unable to suppress your laughter. “Are you really as good as everyone says you are, Dr. Reid? Because that was almost too easy!”

Spencer feigned a dramatic sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “Alright, alright. You got me that time. But I demand a rematch!” he declared, a determined glint in his eyes.

“Okay, sore loser,” you teased back, clearly enjoying the banter. “Do you have anything stronger to drink? I don’t think I can handle kicking your ass twice in a row if I’m sober.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, Spencer got up from his seat, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he headed over to his small, well-organized liquor cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey that Gideon had gifted him long ago, the label aged and promising quality.

“I have whiskey. Will that do?” he asked, holding the bottle up for you to see.

“Perfect,” you replied, your eyes lighting up at the thought of a drink to accompany the next game. “Get your little butt back over here so I can give you a real challenge.”

Spencer chuckled, the warmth in his chest growing as he poured two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that made it look almost magical. He handed you a glass before taking his seat across the chessboard once more.

“Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy,” Spencer said with a wink, setting up the pieces with renewed determination. “This time, you’re going to see why they call me the chess prodigy.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” you replied mockingly, taking a sip of the whiskey. The drink was smooth and rich, the perfect companion for another round of playful rivalry. “Let’s see if you can back up those claims, Dr. Reid.”

The game began anew, the atmosphere between you charged with competitive energy and a touch of alcohol-induced warmth. Spencer’s moves were precise and calculated, each one revealing the depth of his strategic mind, yet still leaving room for light-hearted commentary.

“Watch out,” he warned as he moved his knight into a threatening position. “I might just turn the tables this time.”

You narrowed your eyes, pretending to study the board intensely. “Is that all you’ve got?” you quipped, countering his move with one of your own. “I thought I’d at least have to break a sweat.”

—

The rematch began, and it wasn’t long before Spencer was expertly maneuvering his pieces, quickly putting you on the defensive. His moves were precise, and each one seemed to corner you more and more, revealing the depth of his strategic mind.

"Okay, that was just unfair," you complained, watching as another one of your pieces was captured by Spencer’s bishop.

"How so?" he asked innocently, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "All of my moves were legal!"

"Rematch!" you demanded, unable to hide the playful challenge in your voice.

"Another? Do you like losing?" Spencer teased, his smile widening as he prepared to set up the board once more.

"Oh, Dr. Reid…" you said, leaning in slightly, the whiskey doing wonders for the rising tension in the room. "Okay. Let's make this round more interesting then."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the playful edge in your voice. "How so?" he asked, leaning closer, captivated by the challenge.

"How about, for each piece you lose, you have to remove an item of clothing?" you suggested, your tone daring and mischievous.

Spencer paused, considering your proposal as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm listening…" he replied, his curiosity piqued.

"Say I take your pawn… you have to take off your cardigan," you explained, running your finger up his covered arm, drawing a shiver from the usually composed doctor.

"Okay…" Spencer agreed, his voice dropping to a low, interested murmur.

"And if you take mine… I'll take something off," you continued, meeting his gaze with a look that promised excitement.

The chess pieces were set, and the stakes were higher this round as you both leaned over the board, your focus split between the game and the tension that crackled between you.

Spencer's first move was calculated, his eyes flickering between the board and you. "Ready to play?" he asked, his voice laced with playful confidence.

"As I'll ever be," you replied, your heart racing with anticipation.

The game progressed with both of you taking careful yet bold moves, the stakes of the game adding an electrifying thrill to each capture.

When Spencer took your first pawn, he smiled knowingly, the whiskey giving him a touch more boldness than usual. "Looks like I get to see if you're a woman of your word," he said, gesturing to your side of the board.

True to your word, you slipped off your jacket, placing it on the back of your chair with a smirk. "I hope you're ready to reciprocate," you shot back, eyes twinkling with the thrill of the game.

With each piece lost, the room seemed to grow warmer, and the playful tension between you and Spencer heightened with each exchange. Of course, so far, you had been the only one losing clothing. After saying goodbye to your jacket, you'd lost both your shoes and socks, realizing belatedly that there were more chess pieces than articles of clothing you had on. Perhaps you hadn’t thought this through.

Spencer captured another one of your pawns, and you met his gaze with a raised eyebrow as you removed your bottoms. "You're quite the strategist," you admitted, feeling the stakes increase with each move.

"It's all about thinking ahead," he replied, his voice steady despite the thrill of the game. "And being prepared for any surprises."

Spencer couldn't help but let his gaze drift as you stood to pull your bottoms off, exposing your panties. You now stood before him in just a bra and underwear, and he was visibly stunned.

"Close your mouth, Dr. Reid; we still have a game to play," you teased, relishing the way his eyes were glued to you.

Finally, you managed to capture one of his pieces. Spencer, true to the spirit of the game, removed his cardigan, revealing his button-up shirt underneath. The simple action sent a ripple of excitement through the room, the stakes becoming more real with each move.

When Spencer captured your next piece, he watched you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. 

"Wait, you don’t actually have to do that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable," Spencer said, his voice suddenly serious, even though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"What? And not follow the rules? I'm a team player, Spencer," you replied with a wink before unhooking the clasp and letting the material fall with a quiet thud. 

Spencer openly stared, mesmerized by not only your body but your confidence. You saw him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tried to regain his composure.

"As much as I'm loving this attention, and I am," you teased, "we still have to finish."

Spencer cleared his throat and shook his head. "Right, um, yes, sorry." 

His focus was clearly affected; his strategic edge seemed to falter as the game continued. Despite his brilliance, the sight before him was a considerable distraction, and it wasn't long before you managed to capture more of his pieces. 

Piece by piece, you worked Spencer down, until he was left in his briefs, the tables having turned in your favor. Each move was accompanied by the thrill of your mutual anticipation, his eyes dancing between the board and you, admiration and vulnerability on his face.

"Checkmate," you announced, moving your queen into position with a satisfied grin.

Spencer stared at the board, the reality of his defeat sinking in, along with a sense of something more profound, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension that had been building between you.

"You played well," Spencer said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. "Better than I anticipated."

"I had a little help," you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice. 

As you both sat there, the game concluded and the stakes settled, it was clear that chess had only been the prelude to something much deeper. The room seemed to pulse with the energy of possibilities, each moment stretching out with potential.

"So," you said, leaning back in your chair, fully aware of the effect you had on him, "what now, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer's eyes met yours, the vulnerability in them replaced by a newfound resolve. "I think," he began, his voice steady despite the situation, "it's time for another round. But this time, no chessboard required."

The words hung in the air between you, an invitation to step beyond the playful game and into the realm of genuine connection. You felt a rush of excitement mingled with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as Spencer considered your invitation.

“Make your move, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice low and inviting, “capture the queen.”

Spencer’s eyes met yours, a flicker of hesitation giving way to a resolve that was both thrilling and tender. He stood slowly, the weight of the moment making every second seem deliberate and significant. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you with a graceful ease that belied the intensity of the situation.

As he approached, you felt a shiver of anticipation run through you, the heat between you almost palpable. Spencer placed his hands on the armrests on either side of you, his gaze steady and full of intent. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken desire, an uncharted territory waiting to be explored.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and electric, a gentle yet confident movement that spoke volumes of his affection and admiration. The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly grew more assured.

You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His touch was electrifying, sending ripples of sensation through you, each kiss deepening the intimacy between you.

The kiss seemed to last forever, a timeless moment where nothing else existed but the two of you. You were aware of every detail—the softness of his lips, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his fingers gently caressed your cheek as if you were something precious and fragile.

As you pulled back slightly, breathless and exhilarated, Spencer gazed into your eyes with a look that was equal parts admiration and wonder. “Wow,” he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. “I should have captured the queen a long time ago.”

You chuckled softly, the tension now transformed into a shared joy. “Well, I’m glad you finally made your move,” you replied, your heart racing with the thrill of what lay ahead.

Spencer leaned in and kissed you again, his touch gentle but insistent. This time, his arms scooped under your back, helping you to stand as the chessboard faded into a distant memory. He started leading you toward the bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in your eagerness, blindly bumping into furniture and walls. The clumsiness only added to the playful atmosphere, causing you to giggle into each other’s mouths as you moved.

Once in the bedroom, Spencer gently pushed you back onto the bed, your body sinking into the softness as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You stared up at him, the beautiful man who was now crawling towards you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Spencer's gaze was full of admiration and desire, his eyes traveling over you with a look that made you feel both cherished and wanted. He moved closer, his fingers lightly tracing over your skin, sending sparks of anticipation through you.

“Can I take these off?” Spencer asked, his fingers hovering at the edge of your waistband, his voice filled with excitement and respect for your boundaries.

“Yes, please,” you replied, breathless and eager, giving him the reassurance he sought.

With your consent, Spencer carefully pulled down your panties, his touch reverent as he took in the sight of your glistening core. His eyes were filled with awe, his gaze drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

“Is there anything you don’t want to do?” he asked, his voice gentle and sincere, wanting to ensure that every step was taken with your comfort in mind.

You shook your head, feeling completely at ease with him. “Yes, but I highly doubt you’re going to find any of my hard limits right now,” you replied with a soft smile, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

Spencer chuckled, a sound that was both warm and arousing, before he leaned in closer, spreading your thighs and pressing a tender kiss to your clit. His lips were soft and gentle, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through you like a slow-burning flame.

You let out a soft whine from the back of your throat, a sound that resonated with encouragement and desire. It urged Spencer to explore more, to push beyond the boundaries of what you’d both anticipated. His eyes met yours briefly, a question of permission, of eagerness to continue. You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. 

Spencer's tongue flattened against you, and he slowly licked up the length of your core, eliciting a deep, involuntary arch of your back. The sensation was electrifying, sending ripples of pleasure through your entire body. 

Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting gently, encouraging him with each soft pull and gasp. The gentle friction between your fingers and his scalp seemed to spur him on, pushing him to devour more of you, which made you cry out and melt beneath him.

When he made it back to your clit, Spencer paused for a moment, teasing you with soft, deliberate touches before sucking hard in a way that made you grip his hair with renewed urgency. Your body moved instinctively against him, urging him forward, craving more of the sensation that he so expertly wielded.

With each lick and suck, his face shifted deeper into you, the intimacy of the moment deepening with each shared breath and whispered curse from you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of shared sensation and mutual exploration. 

Spencer's movements were that of a man starved, he was eating you out with the fever of someone who had been craving you since the moment you met. Crazy. His jaw was open, his tongue exploring, plunging, and teasing.  

Your hips responded to his rhythm, moving in time with his licks, your body and mind in perfect harmony with his. Each touch, each suck was a conversation of its own, a dialogue of desire that required no words, only the language of touch and shared experience. 

Feeling the rise of your peak within you, you let yourself go, surrendering to the sensations, letting Spencer guide you through the intricate dance of pleasure and connection. His tongue was a constant, grounding force, leading you through each wave with skillful precision, until every thought was consumed by the spark between you. 

Your body trembled under his touch, every nerve alight with sensation, and as you reached the peak of your orgasm, your body dissolved into a mix of cries and thrusts.

Spencer's hands never left you, his touch soothing and reassuring, drawing you back into a gentle embrace as the waves of sensation began to ebb. You looked up at him, breathless and blissfully content, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that spoke of shared understanding and mutual joy. 

“Jesus Christ, where did you learn how to do that?” you breathed out incredulously, the lingering sensations from Spencer’s touch still making your skin tingle.

He chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I did win a pie-eating contest one time,” he replied with a modest shrug, the mischievous tone in his voice making you giggle.

“What flavor of pie would you say I am?” you asked, your voice filled with a teasing lilt as you watched his reaction.

“The sweetest,” he replied, a warmth in his gaze that sent a delightful shiver through you. With that, Spencer’s lips were on yours again, a fervent kiss that rekindled the heat between you. 

His hands began to explore once more, each finding a home of its own, one tracing a gentle path through your soaking wet core and the other resting firmly on your breast, tugging at your nipple. Both sensations drove you wild, the overstimulation lighting your body on fire with renewed intensity.

“Spencer!” you gasped, the word filled with plea and admiration.

“Yeah? Need something?” he mumbled against your lips, the vibration of his words adding another layer of sensation.

You babbled incoherently, unable to articulate the jumble of feelings as your mouth trailed along his jaw and neck, tasting the salt and warmth of his skin before nibbling your way down to his shoulder. You were lost in the moment, each thrust of his fingers inside of you bringing a new wave of pleasure that left you breathless.

“Ow! You little vampire,” he laughed, a playful lilt to his voice as you bit at his shoulder.

Spencer’s laughter was contagious, and you found yourself smiling, your fingers dancing lightly across his skin, eager to explore and discover. The sense of closeness and trust between you deepened with each shared touch, creating a bond that felt as though it had been years in the making.

Each touch was precise and intentional, telling of Spencer’s attentive nature, as he focused entirely on your pleasure, reading your reactions with keen insight. The way he responded to your every whimper and sigh was almost like he was playing an intricate piece of music, his fingers moving deftly across an instrument, coaxing out beautiful notes of arousal.

Your hand drifted to his hair again, tugging gently as your lips met his once more, the kiss a reflection of the emotions you couldn't quite express in words. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and spice that lingered on your tongue, driving you to pull him even closer.

Spencer’s lips moved with purpose, his mouth devouring yours similarly to how he ate you out, sending ripples of pleasure that left you breathless and eager for more. His touch was both tender and electric, each kiss, thrust, twist, tug bringing you closer to the edge, where anticipation and fulfillment danced in perfect harmony.

Right when you thought you were going to have another blissful orgasm under the most beautiful man, Spencer did the unthinkable: he removed all touch. One moment, his warmth surrounded you, his hands on your skin, the next moment his touch was gone.

"Huh? What? No? Spencer? Come back!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with both surprise and desperation, reaching for him as if to tether him back to you.

He smiled down at you, that endearing blend of playfulness and intent twinkling in his eyes. "Sorry, honey. Saving that for when I'm inside you," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice as he pulled back, making a move to leave the bed.

You let out a small whine of frustration, your orgasm hanging in the air, clearly upset with his choice and impatient for him to fulfill his promise. Every nerve in your body seemed to echo your disappointment, each pulse demanding his return.

"I'm just getting a condom, calm down," he teased, a wicked grin on his face as he headed for the drawer beside the bed.

"You did this to me," you half-growled, half-laughed, throwing an arm over your face in exaggerated exasperation. "You fix it."

"Okay, okay," he laughed and surrendered, returning with the condom in hand.

"Can I put it on?" you asked, your voice carrying a note of playful mischief.

"Really?" he responded, his curiosity piqued by the offer, eyes widening slightly in pleasant surprise.

"Mhm," you nodded, the opportunity too enticing to pass up.

"O–okay," he agreed, handing the package to you with a blend of excitement and curiosity.

With the condom in hand, you slid the rubber down his cock, taking a moment to appreciate the sheer size and girth of him, marveling at the way he responded to your touch. Your fingers traced the smooth, firm contours, feeling the heat and the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

You jerked him steadily now, feeling the anticipation between you crescendo as you prepared him to fuck you. Each movement was testing his patience as he leaned into the smooth, warm glide of your hand .

"Fuck, I'm ready," Spencer breathed out, the rawness of his words echoing the tension in the room, his body language speaking volumes of his readiness to continue where you had left off.

"I know," you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes as you finished, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile. "Welcome to the club."

You were nicer than Spencer, though, guiding him gently back into the space between your hips, your bodies aligning perfectly. The anticipation hung like a sweet apple, the promise of what was to come electrifying the air.

As he pushed inside of you, you let out a soft whimper, the sensation new and exciting. The warmth of his body against yours, the slow glide of his cock as he moved, each thrust was a dance of intimacy and desire, your walls clenching down around him.

The atmosphere between you was charged with a palpable energy, each of you breathless from the intensity of the moment. Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze filled with adoration and mischief. He leaned in closer, his lips just inches from your ear as he whispered in a voice thick with desire.

“Ohhh, fuck me, you feel so good,” he murmured, his words a teasing invitation wrapped in a velvet promise. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he continued. “You’re so tight. Gonna let me stretch you?”

His tone was low and sultry, the kind that sent your heart racing and made your skin tingle with anticipation. Every syllable seemed to wrap around you, pulling you deeper into the intoxicating web he was weaving.

You felt a deep flutter of excitement at his words, your body responding instinctively to the offer he laid before you. The raw need in his voice was mirrored in your own desires, and you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper as you nodded eagerly.

“Oh, please, Spencer, please!” you implored, your voice carrying a breathy edge of desperation. The plea tumbled from your lips, fueled by the heat of the moment and the urgency of your shared longing.

The way you said his name—Spencer—was like music to his ears, a perfect harmony of hunger and surrender that urged him on. He met your gaze with a knowing smile.

Spencer's fingers returned to your clit, his touch firm and tender, anchoring you to the moment as he found his rhythm, each smack of his hips against yours bringing you closer to the edge. Your own hands explored his chest, tracing the lines of his stomach and feeling the play of muscle beneath the skin.

As the air between you hummed with anticipation, curiosity got the better of you. You let your fingers trail down Spencer's skin, your touch feather-light and exploratory. His breath hitched in his throat as you delicately pinched one of Spencer’s nipples between your fingers, marveling at the way it felt under your touch.

The sensation was new and electrifying for him, a ripple of pleasure that surged through his body and caused him to moan out loudly, his reaction unguarded and genuine. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he processed the unexpected jolt of sensation.

"My god, you are something else," he breathed, his voice filled with awe and delight at your unexpected boldness.

"Something good?" you asked, your tone playful yet genuinely curious as you continued to experiment with the effect your touch had on him.

"Something amazing," Spencer replied, his eyes opening to meet yours with a smoldering intensity. "God, I'm so into you."

The raw honesty in his voice sent a thrill through you, your own heart racing with the realization of just how much you had drawn him in. His words resonated with a sincerity that made you feel both cherished and wanted.

"Uhhh huh, me too," you admitted, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Like you so much."

Spencer grinned, a warm, genuine smile that spoke of mutual admiration and affection. "Mmm, like you too, pretty girl," he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss that spoke of everything words couldn't quite convey.

The kiss was soft and lingering, a gentle mingling of breath and sensation that deepened the connection between you. Spencer's hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he poured every ounce of his affection into the kiss.

Your fingers continued their exploration, tracing paths across his skin that left him shivering in delight, each touch adding another layer of intimacy to the moment. 

The world around you faded into insignificance as you lost yourselves in each other. The kiss lingered, a promise of the depth of emotion that had taken root between you, growing stronger with each passing moment.

With each glide of his cock inside you, Spencer drove you higher, the anticipation building to a fever pitch until you were both caught in a whirlwind of passion and arousal.

"Spencer, I'm so close," you murmured, your voice a soft plea as you pressed yourself closer to him, your fingers tracing over where his cock was stretching you open.

His response was immediate, his breath catching as he met your eyes, the dark desire in his gaze mirrored by your own. "Oh yeah?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, thick with intensity.

"Mhm," you confirmed, the sound of your voice wavering with need. "Please let me come, please," you begged, the urgency in your words matched by the way your body moved against his.

Spencer let out a ragged groan, clearly affected by your words and your touch. "Oh fuck, yeah beg for it," he groaned, his hands gripping you a little tighter as he relished in the moment.

"Please, I've been so good. I deserve it, please, Spencer, please!" You whined and whimpered, writhing on the bed, your desperation palpable as you sought the release that seemed just out of reach.

"Shit, okay, pretty girl," Spencer finally relented, his voice gruff with arousal. "Don't cry. You can come," he whispered, granting you the permission you needed to finally let go.

With his words, a rush of relief and excitement surged through you, the sensation of finally being able to finish overwhelming you in the best possible way. Spencer’s presence was your anchor, his touch guiding you as you moved into a realm of pure ecstacy, the culmination of everything you’d been craving. As the relief washed over you, you felt Spencer's reassuring kisses alongside your face. 

Spencer was trying his very best not to lose it in that moment, the feeling of your walls tightening around him driving him absolutely wild.

"That's it, beautiful," he murmured softly, a smile in his voice. "Let it out, so good for me."

You felt his encouragement seep into your skin, giving you the strength to ride the waves of pleasure crashing over you. "Ungh, so good for you," you managed to reply, your voice a shaky whisper as you surrendered to the moment.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with affection as he looked down at you. "You okay, baby?" he asked, a playful edge to his voice as he teased you for your earlier pleas.

Breathless and blissful, you nodded, meeting his gaze with a half-smile. "Want you to come, please come inside me," you murmured, your eyes holding a mix of need and desire as you urged him on.

With that, Spencer doubled his efforts, lifting your legs above your shoulders. The shift in position only heightened the intensity of the sensations, the new angle sending fresh waves of pleasure rippling through you.

His thrusts were precise, each one sending sparks of electricity through your nerves as he worked to bring himself closer to the edge. You could feel the strength in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle as he supported you, the rhythm of his hips never faltering.

"Spencer," you gasped, your body so sensitive but so willing to let him use you for his pleasure.

Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His desire took control of him, stilling his cock inside you and emptying his spend into the condom. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a shared moment of vulnerability.

As the intensity of the moment subsided, Spencer gently pulled away, riding of the condom and laid down beside you. The tension and passion gave way to a lighter atmosphere as you both broke into a fit of laughter, the relief and joy of the experience bubbling to the surface.

"Well, that was a hell of a first date," you giggled, turning to face him, your eyes still sparkling with the afterglow of the moment.

Spencer tried to catch his breath, a wide grin spreading across his face. "This is going to sound like a lie," he confessed, his voice still slightly breathless, "but I promise it's not—I have never done that on a first date before."

"Me neither," you replied, your laughter mingling with his as you both basked in the comfortable ease that had settled between you.

There was something undeniably genuine about the way you and Spencer had connected. It was a rare and beautiful thing, and you both knew it.

Spencer turned to you, his expression soft and sincere. "I didn't expect today to turn out like this," he admitted, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

"Neither did I," you agreed, leaning into his touch, the simple gesture filled with warmth and reassurance. "But I'm really glad it did."

"Me too," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that seemed to say everything else he was feeling.

The silence that followed was comfortable and full, a testament to the connection you'd forged in such a short time. You both knew that this was only the beginning, a promising start to something that could grow into something truly special.

Spencer's fingers intertwined with yours, a silent promise of more moments like this, and as you both drifted into a contented quiet. 

The peaceful moment was broken by your phone ringing into the quiet apartment, its sudden intrusion shattering the silence you had both been enjoying. You exchanged a glance with Spencer, a silent agreement to ignore it, wanting to savor the tranquility a little longer. 

But then Spencer's phone started buzzing too, vibrating insistently from the other room. The coincidence raised your concern, and both of you quickly moved to pull on your clothes, an unspoken understanding that something might be wrong if both phones were ringing at once. 

You made your way together to the living room, the echo of your footsteps filling the space as you searched for your phones. It was then that you saw who had called. 

"It was my mom," you said, a bit of worry creeping into your voice as you checked your missed calls. She had tried reaching both of you, the notifications now blinking up at you like tiny urgent reminders. 

“Oh, shit,” you exclaimed, realizing the oversight. “I didn’t think to tell her not to wait up.”

Spencer let out a small, understanding chuckle, though there was a hint of sheepishness in his expression. “You should probably call her back before she thinks I killed you,” he suggested, half-joking but aware that Alex's motherly instincts could be running on high alert.

Nodding, you tapped your mom’s contact and brought the phone to your ear, pacing slightly as you waited for her to pick up. Spencer stood nearby, a reassuring presence as he watched you with a small smile, seemingly amused by the situation. 

"Hello?" Alex answered, her voice tinged with concern.

"Hey, Mom," you greeted, a little breathless from the urgency of the call. "Sorry about not calling. We got a bit caught up," you admitted, hoping your tone would convey that everything was okay.

"Caught up, huh?" Alex replied, her voice softening as she caught on to the undertone of your words. "I was just checking to make sure you two hadn’t gotten into any trouble."

You laughed lightly, relieved that she was more teasing than serious. "No trouble here, I promise. Just…you know, good company."

From the other side of the room, Spencer offered a thumbs-up, his playful smile widening. 

"I'm glad to hear that," Alex said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I figured you might not be coming back tonight, but I wanted to make sure."

“Oh, uh, I didn’t ask…” you said, your words trailing off as you glanced at Spencer, who was now looking at you with a curious head tilt.

"Spencer, can I spend the night?" you asked, the question hanging in the air with a playful innocence.

“Yes, of course,” he replied with a warm smile, his answer immediate and sincere, clearly pleased by your request.

You giggled, feeling a flutter of excitement at his quick agreement, before turning back to your conversation with your mom.

"Thanks for checking in," you replied to Alex, feeling grateful for her thoughtfulness. "I'll be sure to call next time."

"Alright, enjoy the rest of your night. And tell Spencer hello for me."

"I will," you promised, feeling the warmth of her acceptance. "Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

You ended the call and turned back to Spencer, who was watching you with an expression of mild curiosity and relief. 

"All good?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"All good," you confirmed, feeling a wave of affection for him and the way he seemed genuinely concerned. "She just wanted to make sure I was okay."

"Well, I'm glad she called," Spencer said, coming closer and wrapping an arm around you. "Because I would have been worried too if I didn't know where you were."

The sentiment in his words was sweet, a reminder of the genuine care that had developed between you so quickly. As you settled back into the living room, the tension of the phone calls faded away, leaving only the comfort of each other’s company. 

"Now that we have our alibi sorted," Spencer joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "what should we do next?"

You leaned into him, savoring the warmth and closeness, the day's events leaving you both in high spirits. With a teasing glint in your eye, you suggested, "How about we rob a bank? We’ve had great luck so far today."

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head at the idea. "You know I am an FBI agent, right?" he reminded you, his tone playful but with a hint of mock seriousness.

"I know," you replied, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. "And it's so sexy."

"Says the professor," Spencer countered, raising an eyebrow at you with a grin that spoke volumes about how much he enjoyed this playful banter.

You both broke into laughter, the lighthearted teasing weaving a comfortable intimacy between you. It was easy to get lost in moments like this with Spencer, where everything felt natural and right.

For the rest of the night, you continued to giggle and flirt, exchanging stories and jokes. Every shared glance and touch felt like another piece of a puzzle falling into place, creating a picture of something that promised to be both thrilling and meaningful.

As the hours passed, you found yourselves wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and companionship, the world outside fading away as you enjoyed each other's company. It was the kind of night that felt like the beginning of a wonderful adventure, one that neither of you wanted to end.

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