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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months ago

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Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: You've been the Twins' handler for years now, and when Tangerine blows up at you one evening after a mission, he apologizes in an unconventional way.

Epilogue

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: implied fuck boy!Tangerine, bitchy!Tangerine in the beginning, reader is named Peach, unprotected sex, passionate sex, not much foreplay (they're desperate lmao), swearing, insecurities, praise kink, degradation, emotional, Tangerine is all over the place and bad with his feelings!

~ i'm so sorry i feel like this took forever <3 enjoy! @j23r23 ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not," you smile, your nails drumming on the desk as you pick at the petals of the roses in the jar near your computer. "Ah ha, he loves me. Knew you were so full of shit," you hum happily.

"Piss off," Tangerine loudly grunts in your ear and you tilt your head, scrunching your nose. You've told him not to yell like that—you've warned him that the earpiece is sensitive and you'll lose your hearing if he continues like this—but he never listens.

Being the Twins handler for almost four years now you've learned how to deal with their quirks.

Lemon, as ruthless as he is, is too trusting. He's also loyal to a fault and he'd die for Tangerine in seconds; something you've had to account for in your missions so it doesn't happen.

Tangerine on the other hand? Recklessness under the guise of control. He'd burn the entire world down for Lemon without hesitation, his temper as bright as the flames of a wildfire.

Unexplainably however, you were drawn to him the most.

While he pushes your buttons like no one else, you also tend to push him in ways that leave him wanting—no needing—more.

"Tan," you warn again, "don't talk so loudly, they'll hear you!"

"Stop your yapping in my ear then, luv," Tangerine snaps, his comment snarky and you hear a loud humph as it sounds like someone crashes into something.

Tangerine sounds out of breath and you use your mouse to click on the map on your computer. You zoom in and ask, "Where's Lem? You aren't supposed to meet any security for a while—"

"He's busy, darlin'. And your little shortcut turned out to be not so short after all," Tangerine says and you hear a loud grunt. It's obvious he's in the middle of a fight.

Your blood runs cold as you chew on your lip. Your hands quickly dance over the keyboard as you try and find another way for them—an easier way—

"Hey, Peach, will ya stop breathing so damn loudly, it's distracting me," Tangerine's voice interrupts your worry and you hold your breath when you hear a loud thwap and then a grunt—immediately accompanied by cursing and more hoarse shouts.

"Tangerine!" his name spills from your lips as you hear louder blows. "Tan?" you whisper when the line disconnects and a low buzz is heard in your ear. You fumble to discard the earpiece onto the desk in front of you and then you focus on finding Lemon.

If anyone can help Tangerine, it's Lemon.

With a frown, you activate the tracker you'd promised not to slip into Lemon's jacket, and a little red light blinks on your computer screen. He's not far from where Tangerine is. You lean over and connect to the microphone on your computer.

"Lemon?!"

You hear a crack and then the shuffling of clothes against the microphone in the tracker. "Peach?" Lemon grunts, "Ya cheeky lil' bird, I told ya not to track me," he lets out a breathy laugh, and another smack is heard, "Fuck me, these fuckers just don't die easily!"

"Lem? Where's Tan?" you ask, seeing that the tracker Tangerine wears voluntarily on his suit hasn't moved in a while. "Is he okay? I think the earpiece broke."

Something must have happened to his tracker too if it's malfunctioning.

"Yeah, which is why I say I should wear it—but he's bossy and he's your favorite," Lemon says.

"I don't have favorites!" you insist, your cheeks burning.

"Sure, whatever," Lemon chuckles and then adds, "Ah, speaking of the devil—I can see 'im now. Damn, he's beat up ain't he. Bullocks. Y'know your little plan was shit, Peach, security swarmed us almost immediately!"

You pinch your eyes and guilt settles in your stomach. "I know, I know, I'm sorry,"

You hear Tangerine's voice distantly as he grumbles, "Fuckin' arsehole broke my earpiece when he punched me—I lost contact with Peach," he complains and you hear shuffling. Your stomach fills with unwanted butterflies at the sound of his voice and how your codename rolls off his tongue.

"She can hear ya," Lemon says, his smirk evident in his tone, "Say hello, Peach."

"She tracked ya?"

"Yeah, and bugged me too apparently."

"What the fuck, my tracker doesn't do that," Tangerine says and you hear an infliction in his voice.

"Yeah, cauz you always have the earpiece."

"Because she likes me better,"

"That's what I said!!"

"Oi, you wankers, I can still hear you," you interrupt, "Will you just come back to the van now? The mission's a bust," you finish. While they continue to bicker for a moment, Lemon finally shuts down the tracker—by breaking it you assume—idiot—and it isn't until the van door slams open that you hear and see them again.

"Oi, now you're takin' the piss," Tangerine exclaims, glaring at his brother as he runs a hand through his mussed hair. He enters the van and you stand. Your eyes scan over his appearance; his suit is torn and bloodied and he has a gaping cut on his forehead. His ear is also bleeding from when you assume the broken earpiece had shattered.

"Christ," you whisper and walk over to him. Lemon smirks as he walks by the both of you and collapses onto the second chair near your desk. He's less beat up than Tangerine—who'd taken on more men you assume—but you remind yourself to check on him later anyway.

Tangerine senses you come up to him and he tenses when you hold his cheeks in your hands and check his wounds. "Tan, this looks bad," you say.

"Peach, I'm fine," he grumbles and turns his head away. He sounds grumpier than usual.

"Look, I'm sorry—I'm sorry I messed up, I—"

Suddenly, Tangerine explodes. His hand comes up around his ears as he scrunches up his nose. "Will ya just stop talkin' for one fuckin' second?!" he yells and even Lemon, who had been a silent bystander to the conversation, looks up from where he's bandaging his hand.

Your eyes widen and you blink at Tangerine. "W-what?"

He presses his index on his temple and narrows his eyes at you. "I have a fuckin' headache 'cause of you and you talkin' my fuckin' ear off all the damn time! And now I can barely hear because it's ringing so fuckin' hard!" he points to the blood inside his ear.

You flinch at his tone and try to control the tears threatening to spill as he harshly berates you.

"Right," is all you say, "sorry," your voice sounds small and you push by him and out to the front of the van to start the engine.

* * *

When you arrive outside their house—well, your house too since you've been living with them for the past three months—you don't talk to Tangerine. You don't even look at him.

Instead, without a word, you walk up to your room, tears still brimming, and slam the door behind you.

Your stomach hurts and your nails dig into your palms as you run a shower. You desperately want to wash away any memory of what happened tonight.

It isn't uncommon for you and Tangerine to fight—but he's never shouted like that and never in response to your worry.

Once you finish with your shower and walk out of the bathroom, just a towel wrapped around your body, you jump when you see Tangerine standing in the middle of your room.

He'd clearly freshened up too but, unlike yours, his hair is freshly dried. You aren't surprised—you know he hates sleeping with it when it's wet.

He's wearing a casual pair of beige slacks and a white T-shirt. The fabric strains against the muscles in his arms as he crosses them across his chest and you look up, feeling a burn in your cheeks.

Tangerine's ear has been bandaged and his cuts and bruises look kindly tended to. Lemon, you assume, he's always been soft on his brother even when he's acting like a jerk.

Tangerine is staring at you intensely, his blue eyes shining a shade darker than usual.

"Shit, stop being creepy," you grumble, holding your towel tightly around yourself. "Have you come to say you're sorry for acting like a prick or just stare a hole into my head?"

Tangerine's eyes narrow and he shakes his head. He stalks closer to you, pink lips parted and his hands find your hair near your nape. He pulls you in, seemingly unbothered by the squeal you make or how you're unable to move your hands to push him away.

Not that you'd want to push him away anyway.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" you hiss, staring at him, "have you gone mad?"

Tangerine just continues to stare into your soul. "You're so damn annoying," he mutters.

"I'll scream and Lemon will come and beat the shit out of you," you threaten, challenging him. You know Lemon would never do such a thing and you'd be a fool to scream.

"But, fuck me, I like you so damn much," he finishes his sentence, and then his lips find yours. His hand tightens in your hair as he kisses you. There's no tenderness in his kiss, no hesitation or remorse, just pure passion as he wraps his arms around you and holds your back as he pulls your chest to his.

You clutch the towel, making sure it feels secure, and kiss him back. You make a small sound behind his lips but you can't deny the heat in the kiss or how badly your stomach tightens just right. The steam coming from your bathroom is taunting as it surrounds you; sticky and warm.

"Tan," you mumble as his hand comes around your jaw and he turns your head to kiss your neck.

"Shut up," he growls, "you talk too damn much." He squeezes his eyes shut and the words fall easily from his lips as they press to your skin.

"God, you don't understand how hard it is for me; hearing your sweet voice in my ear while I'm trying not to get fuckin' stabbed or shot to death! You don't know what you do to me, darlin'. You have no fuckin' clue. It's fuckin' torture," he says as his hand tightens in your hair and you whimper.

"Tan, m-my towel," you tell him, struggling to hold it up as his body presses against yours.

This makes Tangerine snap out of whatever trance he's in for a moment and he looks down at you. His eyes have softened just a little and his tone is sultry when he asks, "Let it fall. I don't care. Do you?" His lips quirk up. "I've dreamt of you naked a thousand times, luv."

Your eyes round at the intensity of his words. You want to tell him to fuck off—that you've never thought of him like this. Never imagined his lips on yours or the way he'd feel inside you. But then you'd be a liar, and you aren't a liar.

Instead, you drop the towel, your eyes still intensely locked onto his. The cold air sends a shiver up your spine and Tangerine's hands find the skin on your back instead of the towel. His eyes haven't left yours and he looks surprised that you'd done it. He hasn't looked down and his cheeks have turned a dusty pink.

"What?" you move your hands up to his cheeks and hold them, "you said you'd dreamt of this. Well?" With as much confidence as you can muster, tilt his head to your naked body. You can feel your hands tremble against his cheeks, all kinds of insecurities and uncertainties bubbling inside you and just as you're going to pull away from sheer embarrassment, Tangerine speaks;

"Fuckin' hell, you look so much better than in my imagination," his hands slide up the curves of your hips and breasts. His touch is surprisingly gentle for how passionate he'd been in the beginning.

You watch as his eyes roam around your body and he runs a hand over his jaw, staring at you with pure admiration. "You belong in a fuckin' museum," he whispers behind his hand.

"Alright, lover boy," you roll your eyes and shift to move away but his hands find your hips and he hoists you up into his arms. You gasp, your arms finding his shoulders and your legs cling to his waist as your wet hair sprinkles water over his face. It's a weird position to be in considering you're naked.

"Tangerine!" you cry as he carries you over to your bed and you squeal when he drops you and hovers over you.

"Let me worship you, darlin'," he whispers as his knee slides in between your legs and he kisses your lips again. He disconnects them and looks at you seriously, "Please," he pleads and your eyes widen.

Tangerine never says please.

You find yourself nodding, too lost in the haze of it all to hear the small voice in your head screaming how stupid this is.

He'll throw you away after. He doesn't care. He'll hurt you. He'll break your heart!

You kiss him again, his lips moving against yours rhythmically. You're so lost in pleasure that when he sits up on his heels to strip his shirt, you whine and grasp at his arms. "Shhh, I'm here, dove," he chuckles, enjoying the power he has over you. When he leans over you to kiss you again, this time your hands find his abs and you can't help but explore them.

"You countin' them, luv?" he chuckles after a moment and his lips find your nipples as he squeezes one of your breasts in his hands. You make an embarrassed sound that quickly turns into a moan when he positions your hips just right so the fabric of his slacks hits your clit.

"I know, I know," Tangerine teases as he senses how needy you're becoming. "Shit, you're just a little slut, aren't ya, luv? Knew you'd wear those dresses to tempt me—didn't ya?"

You nod. You had. You didn't think it worked—he always played it so cool.

"You should know I would wank one out after seeing you—your thighs so visible and," he pauses and uses his hands to spread you open until he sees what he wants, "and that pretty pussy. So fuckin' pretty—

—you let me have a peek sometimes didn't you, naughty girl? Knew you did it on purpose," Tangerine says. He sounds satisfied with himself that he'd found you out and his grin widens when you nod.

"Just for you," you whisper, looking up at him with hooded eyes. "Please, Tan," you whine, you're already so wet for him.

"What do you want, hm? Tell me," he smirks and dips his head down to kiss your neck as his hands wander around your skin. He sits back up and removes his slacks and boxers. Your eyes downturn on his cock and you bite your lip. God, is he really this beautiful everywhere? How fucking unfair.

Tangerine's hand comes up to your chin, "Where do you want me?"

You look into his eyes, unsure how to ask him for what you want. Tangerine smiles, his thumb touching your lip. He's gentle, his eyes softer now, "Peach," he leans in and kisses just behind your ear. You shiver. "It's okay. Tell me where you want me," he smiles against your skin.

"Inside me," you say, your voice small

Tangerine hums and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "Where inside you, luv? I want to hear you say it for me."

You feel your cheeks warm and you stare up at him. "In my pussy," you say and Tangerine's eyes light up and he smirks.

"My pleasure," he says and shifts his hips until you feel his cock press against your pussy. He feels you tense as your hands tighten around his shoulder.

"Hey, it's just me," he says, pushing in slower now. He looks concerned as one of his hands finds your hair and pushes the strands away from your eyes.

Yeah, that's the issue, you want to tell him but you just nod, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Look at me," he says as he pushes inside you fully. You gasp, arching into him and your breathing becomes harsh. He's so thick and long. Tangerine doesn't move and you let out a whine, your eyelids fluttering. "I said, look at me. I won't move until you look at me, darlin'," he whispers sternly.

When you finally look at him he smiles, "Do you trust me? I'm not gonna hurt you—promise."

You nod, biting your lip. Of course, you trust him. "I trust you," you answer breathlessly.

"Good girl," Tangerine praises and kisses your forehead. He starts to move his hips, pulling in and out of you with torturous strokes. He feels so good.

As he fucks you, he leans his forehead on yours, occasionally whispering praises into your ear as he tells you how pretty you look with him buried inside you.

"So fuckin' pretty with my cock inside your pussy, hmm," he grunts, continuing the pounding of his hips. "You close, luv? Already?" He teases you with a smirk and kisses your lips. You let out small moans, skin warm and sticky as you nod.

"Good," he smiles and uses his thumb to rub your clit, adding pressure as he fucks into you. "So good for me. All for me, hmm?"

"Y-yes," you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Open your eyes, Peach," he demands and you do so instantly. "I want to look into your eyes when you come apart around me."

With that, the tension breaks inside you. Your body feels weak from the pleasure and your chest rises and falls rapidly once your high finishes. You let yourself relax into the mattress for a moment, ignoring the sudden stream of thoughts—good and bad—that race into your mind. Tangerine's lips touch your forehead again and then he pulls out, finishing on your stomach with a grunt.

You blink, feeling the bed dip and then his warmth disappears. You panic a little but you're too weak to move. If he wants to leave, let him, you convince yourself as you stare at the ceiling. However, when you feel something cold and wet across your stomach, you flinch and scramble to sit up.

Your eyes are wide and Tangerine pauses, removing the washcloth from your skin. He frowns a little, "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly. You stare at him. He's still shirtless but he's pulled up his trousers.

"You aren't leaving?" you ask, looking around the room and you suddenly feel very bare.

Tangerine's frown deepens but he doesn't speak for a moment as he washes away his cum from your skin and, after discarding the washcloth, he reaches behind him to hand you his shirt. You accept it without thinking and put it on, wrapping your arms around yourself as you continue to stare at him.

He shifts, sitting beside you with one leg off the bed. He still hasn't answered and you start to feel an impending pit in your stomach.

"Why would I leave?" he asks calmly, his voice doesn't have a hint of concern in its tone.

You fiddle nervously with the hem of his shirt, looking down. Your hair, now half-dried, is a mess from the pillows and you push it down and around your ears in an effort to compose yourself in front of him. "Well, I- I just assumed that you would—"

Tangerine tilts his head. "You think I would fuck and ditch, did ya? Ya think so low of me, Peach?" It feels like he sounds almost amused.

You shake your head but your nerves don't stop. "I mean, what do you expect me to think, Tangerine?" you look into his eyes and continue, "You come in here, all pissed at me—you yelled at me earlier and made me feel all shitty about myself—and then out of nowhere you kiss me and then we—"

"Fuck." Tangerine finishes bluntly.

You narrow your eyes at him. "Yeah, that," you let out a breath, "So, please, tell me. What am I supposed to think? What do you want from me now? Because I can't be one of your fuck toys, Tan. I refuse to be that girl. I- I care about you—" you feel your emotions get caught in your throat and you feel your eyes sting. Furiously, you wipe your eyes with your hands, refusing to cry in front of him.

Tangerine hasn't said a word. He's looking at you but you can't read his expression. You hate it. You shut your eyes, ready to call it quits, and tell him to leave, but then you feel the bed dip again and you feel his hands cup your cheeks. Your eyes snap open.

"Don't cry," he whispers, his thumb sliding under your eyes and catching your tears, "Please, don't cry because of a stupid bastard like me," he cracks a smile, hoping you'll smile too but when you don't and he sighs, "Okay, I was a dick, a real fuckin' dick, and you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry."

You nod, still listening to him, "You really were a dick," you whisper.

Tangerine chuckles and nods too. "Yeah. I was," he pauses and moves his thumb across your cheeks as if admiring you some more, "Do ya really believe I'd fuck ya for this to be a one-time thing, luv? That I'd just throw ya away after?"

Your cheeks feel warm. "I- I don't know,"

"You do know. You think I would do that to ya," Tangerine says, his voice low.

"I mean—that's what you do don't you? I've known you for years, Tan. All those girls—"

Tangerine suddenly laughs and his hands drop from your face. "Peach, you aren't those girls," he says, suddenly serious, "I wasn't just making it up when I said how hard it is for me to listen to you in my ear all the time. Not because you're annoying—which sometimes you are but that's beside the point—but because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for years. You're all I goddamn think about. Do you understand how hard that is for me?"

You just frown, shaking your head a little. "No. This doesn't make sense. Why now—why not yesterday? Or months ago? Or years ago?"

Tangerine runs a hand in his hair and lets out a breath. "Because I didn't want to but I snapped, I snapped, okay? I'm not fuckin' proud of it. I yelled at you and I felt so bad after I didn't know what to do with myself anymore—

—you're always there for Lem and me, and I realized, after that fuckin' earpiece broke, that I hated not having your pretty voice in my ear anymore. It felt like I'd lost you—do you have any idea how scared that made me feel, even when I knew it was irrational and that you were completely safe?" His words come out jumbled and strained. "I fuckin' hated it, I hated feeling like that so I snapped," he finishes.

You stare at him, his words hitting you hard. You've never seen him like this and it scares you, but it also turns you on some more. Why does he have to be so fucking hot? "And I'm sorry. I am. I would never throw you away. I don't want to throw you away after this—especially after fucking you—that's the last thing I would want! I– I-"

You stare at him some more, your eyes wide, "You what—?"

Tangerine pauses, "I love you," he says, articulating every word so you hear him clearly.

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"As in love love?"

"Fuckin' hell Peach, ya want me to scream it at ya or somethin'? I'm in love with ya. I love ya more than anythin' I fuckin' have. You're my everything. I love you so damn much."

All your anger, doubt, and shame instantly vanished into thin air. He loves you. All this time he'd loved and he was just shit at expressing his emotions? You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as happiness overwhelms you.

"Are ya laughing at me?" Tangerine's voice cuts in the air and you focus on him. He looks surprised and hurt.

Your smile falters and you shake your head. There is so much you want to tell him that you're at a loss for words. He looks so pretty like this, sitting in front of you, and your hands find his cheek instead of using words.

Your fingers skim the bandage that's still wrapped around his ear and you want to ask him if it still hurts. You want to ask him so many things. He's staring at you, chest heaving, and you don't think as you kiss him.

It's softer than the previous passionate kiss you'd shared. Only, Tangerine reacts with as much eagerness as earlier. His hands find your back and he presses you against him, your lips sliding against yours. It's intense and lovely all in the same.

"I love you too," you say quietly between kisses.

"Say it louder," Tangerine suddenly hums, his eyes shut in pleasure. You think he needs you to talk louder because one of his ears is bandaged and hurt.

So, you do as he asks and it earns you another kiss, however when Tangerine mutters, "I wanna hear ya say it again," you know he heard you fine. His voice is so love sick you just grin and wrap your arms around him, your hands bunching in his curls.

"I love you, Tangerine," you say breathlessly, "I love you."

"You have no idea how happy ya just made ma, luv," he responds instantly, running his hand over your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "God, I'd die for ya," he mutters and you frown, slapping his arm a little.

"Don't talk about you dying, you git," you reprimand, and Tangerine smirks.

He kisses your neck and with a teasing tone he reassures you, "Ya have nothin' to worry about, luv. I'd much rather live for you. You have all of my heart, darlin'. It's all yours," he guides your hand to press your palm against his chest and you feel how quickly his heart is beating.

"This beats for you."

You smile and kiss his lips once more as you bring his other hand to your chest too. "And I'm yours," you whisper. "Only yours."

And until then, you'd never seen Tangerine's grin widen as widely as it did when you said those words.

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kisses4reid · 4 months ago

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not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 2

summary - an undercover mission causes realisations that otherwise would be squashed in denial

genre - fem!shy!reader x spencer, forced/wanted proximity, fake relationship -> real relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, mentions of trafficking and manipulation, realisations of love

w/c - 1.9k

a/n - second part!!! sorry for the cliffhanger that’s my favourite thing to do NOBODY COME AT ME. maybe third part/epilogue?? who knows. love y’all

The instrumental music that poured from the live band on the elevated stage came to a close, you and Spencer hovering on the opposite side of the expansive floors, discreetly keeping an eye on two large kitchen doors. The room erupted in applause, which you joined into, for the band, the man you assumed to be the main musician stood and bent at the hips with a sly smile - he knew he was good. The room quieted down to a small chatter from the abundance of people that filled the room. Women with large hats, velvet gloves, and bright lips cornered tall men in grey suits (or the other way around) and laughed like they’d known each other for many years. Men with peppering beards whispered to each other before letting out howls and pointing towards women who were not their wives. The wives stood silent.

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance, “He’s been in there for around 10 minutes now. I’m gonna call it in, in case they’ve already got the tracker on him.” You nodded with a tight lipped smile, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that dancing with Spencer had put you through. He glanced at you once more before holding down a button on his cuff and speaking out loud. You nodded along, in case anyone was watching - and also as a kind of self-soothing motion.

You didn’t drink - well, not often. So when a different waiter came up to you both every 10 minutes asking if you’d like a variety of alcohol, you had to kindly decline each time. And each time you became more irritated. People laughed loudly, people danced in quick blurs, people came up to you both and stared at your dress for a little too long. Thankfully, Spencer took your hand (you’re still in love after all) and nodded with a smile that almost made you forget you were on a mission.

The two of you escaped onto a balcony with a cold breeze accompanying the faster music that both of you wanted to avoid. Your night was already over, just as it started. One dance. You scolded yourself for wanting more, a longer night, for Webley to continue manipulating people. But you’ve done your job, you’ve completed your mission, and now you have to go home and act like all of it never happened.

“Great job, the officers have been notified and we’ve got a tracker on him now. You two can leave whenever-“

“I think we’ll stay for a bit.” Spencer spoke up, and it shocked you. It must’ve shocked Morgan too as the line went dead quiet. “Right, Y/n?” He gulped and eyed you with pleads. His tie was slightly askew, the wind flapping his jacket lightly, his eyes reflecting the stars that now hung high in the sky.

“Y-yeah. This party’s actually…” You looked over the over-crowded floor, to your red and sore feet, to the bad alcohol standing on the waiter's trays. But then you looked over to Spencer. His eyes, his hair, his small smile, his red tie. “The party’s actually not that bad.” You say with a smile.

“Okay… don’t stay for too long. We don’t want everyone to be hung over for a flight home tomorrow.”

The balcony was made of white concrete pillars and marble floors, sconces of warm lights and vines of ivy that wrapped around the pillars and balcony like waves of seaweed. It was beautiful, just like the rest of the establishment, it was unfortunate its main use was to take advantage of innocent people. But you weren’t out there to think about that - at least that’s what you assumed. Spencer wouldn’t want to stay to talk about trafficking or crimes surely.

In that moment, even after watching his small smile of excitement that you agreed to stay with him, all you wanted to do was kick off your shoes and take a goddamn breath.

You walked over to the parapet of the balcony and was glad to see the top was a flat slab of concrete, just wide enough for you to pull yourself up and sit down.

You sighed in relief, taking off your heels and letting them fall onto the shiny marble.

Spencer followed your movements, standing next to you and looking out onto the view. City lights and stars blended in with each other from this angle.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently. You smile, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me tonight. Do I look troubled?” He stood for a moment before turning his head towards you, his hair sweeping across his eyebrows in the breeze. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Was it really that obvious?” “To me, yes… I think that if I didn’t pretend to enjoy tonight people would’ve been suspicious of us.” You frown slightly, “You didn’t enjoy the night?” “I didn’t enjoy the reason, nor the location. I enjoyed the people though.” He sends you a smile that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden. You hope he doesn’t see it in the dim lighting.

Inside, the dance finishes and people clap, and you do too. Spencer glances at your hands and smirks slightly. “You don’t think they’re suspicious now? We danced once, and now we’re out here watching them like weirdos.”

Spencer turned to lean on the balcony and look into the ballroom, shrugging. “We’re two young people in love,” he turned to look at you, eyes warm and deep, “alone time is what we need.”

You bit the inside of your lip and stared at Spencer. His suit, his matching (skewed) tie, his hair and his eyes. He did the same to you, before gulping and looking down at the floor. He bent and picked up your shoes, turning them in his hands and observing. “These are too small for you.” You laugh at the obvious fact, “They’re JJ’s. She’s got the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen.” “You’re only one size above her.” “She wears high heels much more often than I do.” “You swap between sneakers and converse. You’ve only bought new shoes two times since I’ve known you. This is the second time I’ve seen you wear heels, and even then they were practically ballet shoes.” He smiled to himself like it was an inside joke. “Oh…” You looked down at your feet and realised he was exactly right, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your black converse right now.” “Morgan didn’t let me. He said he was pressured to make me look good by all the girls.” He lifted a finger and turned fully towards you, “Did you know that sleeve buttons on suits were created to help doctors who worked in the war keep their sleeves up? Now, they’re a sign of intelligence and wealth. Also, a few weeks ago, you called me a grabologist because of my collection of ties, but did you know that the largest collection of suit ties is owned by a New Zealander woman called Irene Sparks. Now, I think I’d like to oppose that not with my own collection, but with Morgans.”

You smile at the memories of the girls dressing you up, fueling the sisterhood that the childhood version of you missed out on. You thought about Morgan, Hotch and maybe Rossi, and how they were probably dressing him up as well. It was truly a found family, something that you felt you belonged to. They knew your habits, they knew when you were lying, they knew a good portion of your past. And you knew all the same for the rest of them. But Spencer?

Mentally, without realising, you had been creating essays for him since the day you met him. You made journal entries for everyone else, but for Spencer it was books on books of mental notes and facts and aspects of him and his life that you kept in the back of your mind, ready at any point to bring out and use. Why he wears mismatched socks, why he likes purple, why he can’t handle too many people talking at once, why he feels uncomfortable at hospitals, why he hasn’t contacted his father in years. And he knew no doubt even more about you. He had a talent for knowing your emotions and feelings like no one else could, and it made your heart palpitate every time he did it.

“I mean, you’ve seen my collection of ties but jeez, you’d think a guy who mainly wears t-shirts would keep his collection small. You’d like one of his, it's a green that matches that bedside table you painted once. Like those socks you got me last Christmas. But anyways, he somehow had a perfect red to match your… dress. Which by the way, I noticed a lot of people looking at you - and I don’t blame them. I think you look, um, I think you look incredible.” His rambling quietened down for a moment as he tried to avoid eye-contact with you, before he cleared his throat and continued on with his rambling (which mixed with compliments every second sentence).

And suddenly, you realised this was all an excuse. You were in denial, so badly, that you thought of him as a subject of your devotion without stepping back and seeing the real picture.

“Spencer…” You cut him off and he looked up with big eyes, surprised you spoke up. You were the only person that let him ramble, it may have been the only time you stopped him. “Wh- You wanna go home?” He saw your eyes, you looked in pain, in shock, in… “No, Spencer, I… Um.” You pressed your lips together and looked down - were you really going to say this? Were you really going to admit you loved the man in front of you without any evidence that he felt the same way? He was your coworker, your best friend. Everything could be ruined in just a few words. Suddenly, you wanted to take your train of thoughts back, to let him continue on with his rambling - it always calmed you down anyways.

Suddenly, his palm was held out in front of you with a small mint in the middle. You looked up at him and his worried but genuine smile. “Here,” he said softly. You took the mint in your hand and simply stared at it. To be loved, is to be known. “Um, Spencer. I…” His eyes were wanting, curious, they were so goddamn beautiful, “I… I love you.”

His mouth gaped slightly and his cheeks reddened. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his fingers before chuckling nervously, “I was supposed to say it first.” “What?” “I was supposed to say I love you first.” You hopped down from the concrete railing, dress falling to cover your shins again. “I can take it back if you want.” You responded quickly. “No, no don’t take it back, even if you did I don’t think I could mentally accept that you had taken it back.” You covered your mouth with your hand and looked up at him in shock, “So you-” “I love you, too.” He nodded and took your hands from your mouth, holding them in his, “I have since the third week you’ve worked with the BAU.”

“Oh, that’s great um…” You looked down at your intertwined hands and furrowed your eyebrows, “What do we do now?” “We could go to the McDonalds that’s a 10 minutes walk away or, I could kiss you.” He stared into your glistening eyes and wanted to pinch himself to see if this was actually happening. “I don’t-”

“You don’t like McDonalds, sorry, my brain is-”

“Just kiss me.” You replied exasperated.

“Okay.” He nodded and placed his hands on your waist.

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its-avalon-08 · 4 months ago

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moody pouty babies (cs55)

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏ/ɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀʟᴏꜱ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴏᴏᴅʏ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴀᴄʜᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - very little angst, funny arguments, tears, comfort

carlos getting moody after y/n comes back from a business trip

Carlos sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the door as Y/N came back from her business trip. He had been sulking ever since she left, and even though he had missed her terribly, he wasn't going to let it show right away.

“Hey, babe,” Y/N called out cheerfully as she stepped inside, carrying her bag. She looked at him with a smile, but Carlos just gave her a moody glance, barely grunting in response.

She raised an eyebrow, sensing his weird mood. “Everything okay?”

Carlos huffed, standing up and pacing around the living room. “Do you know how much longer it took you to get home than it should have?”

Y/N blinked, confused. “Uh, I don’t know? Maybe ten minutes? There was some traffic from the airport.”

“Ten minutes!” Carlos threw his hands up in frustration. “Why did you take the longer route? You always take the one through the main road, but today you decide to take the one that adds time? After being away for so long, you’d think you’d want to come home faster.”

Y/N stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious or not. "Carlos, it was just a little traffic. It’s no big deal.”

He scoffed, his jaw tight. "Yeah, well, it is a big deal. And that’s not the only thing. You—" he spun around to face her, his expression frustrated, "—you didn’t pick up my calls fast enough either."

Y/N blinked again. "What?"

"You picked up on the fifth ring," Carlos accused, his eyes narrowing. "You usually answer by the second. What, you were too busy for me?"

Y/N bit her lip, trying not to laugh. He was so serious about this, and it was becoming obvious that this wasn’t about the traffic or the phone calls. He was upset because he missed her, just like she had missed him. Only, unlike her, Carlos didn’t know how to handle his feelings. He just got pouty. And angry. Over nothing.

"Carlos, I wasn’t ignoring you," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "I was just busy. I missed you too, you know."

"Did you?" he snapped, his voice rising slightly. "Because it didn’t feel like it when you left me waiting on your calls. And you didn’t even text me when you landed! I had to figure out you were back from looking at the flight tracker!"

Y/N pressed her lips together, stifling her amusement. He was sulking so much it was almost adorable.

“Carlos,” she began softly, walking closer to him. “Are you really mad about the route I took home? Or the phone calls?”

“Yes!” Carlos insisted, though his tone wasn’t as convincing. “And… and you didn’t even bring me my favorite snacks from the airport.”

Y/N couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped her, and Carlos’s face twisted into an even deeper pout.

“You’re laughing?” he grumbled, crossing his arms tighter. “This isn’t funny, Y/N. I missed you and all I get is a long wait and a bad route home.”

Seeing him in full pout mode, Y/N decided enough was enough. Before Carlos could protest further, she leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Y/N! What are you—”

She didn’t let him finish as she started peppering his face with kisses. One on his cheek, then his jaw, then the tip of his nose. "I missed you," she cooed between kisses. "I missed you so much."

Carlos’s protests faltered, his face softening even though he tried to hold onto his anger. "I—"

Another kiss landed right on his pouty lips, and despite himself, he smiled. "Stop," he mumbled, though he didn’t sound convincing.

“Nope!” Y/N kissed his cheek again, giggling. “You’re being so grumpy, Carlos. Why didn’t you just say you missed me?”

Carlos sighed, finally giving in, though he was still pouting a little. "I did miss you," he muttered. "But you took so long to get back, and I just… I don’t know. I hate it when you’re gone."

Y/N loosened her grip slightly, sliding off his back and facing him, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “You’re such a baby sometimes,” she teased, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I missed you too, you know. It wasn’t on purpose that I took the long route, and I wasn’t trying to ignore you. I just got caught up.”

Carlos sighed again, his pout fading as he leaned into her touch. "I know. I’m just… it’s hard when you’re not here." He finally let his guard down, pulling her into a hug. “I missed you more than I care to admit.”

Y/N smiled, hugging him tightly in return. "Well, I’m here now. And next time, I’ll make sure to take the shortest route home, okay? No more delays."

He chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. "And pick up by the second ring."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "You’re impossible."

Carlos smirked, his mood lightening completely as he kissed her cheek one last time. "I’m your impossible."

y/n getting moody after carlos is gone for a triple header

The door to the apartment clicked open, and Carlos stepped inside, weary but smiling, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had just returned from a grueling triple-header and all he wanted was to relax. He was about to call out for Y/N when she stormed out of the living room, arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Hey, mi amor," Carlos greeted, still clueless about the storm that was brewing. "I missed you so much."

"Really? Did you?" Y/N shot back, her tone icy, though her eyes hinted at something deeper. She was upset—no, more than upset. She was furious. About what? He didn’t know yet, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

Carlos blinked, thrown off by her hostility. "Uh, yeah. Of course I did," he said, his voice unsure.

She scoffed. "Did you miss me enough to even notice that the painting in the hallway is crooked? It's been like that for weeks, Carlos!"

Carlos furrowed his brows in confusion. "The painting? What? I—"

"You walk right past it like it’s not a big deal! How do you not notice something like that? It’s right there!"

Carlos turned to look at the painting, squinting. "It’s barely tilted, Y/N. I can fix it right now if it bothers you—"

"That’s not the point!" Y/N snapped, her frustration building. "It’s about paying attention! To the little things! You walk in here like everything is fine and you don’t even care about how things are falling apart while you're gone."

"Falling apart?" Carlos repeated, completely lost. "You’re upset about the painting?"

Y/N threw her hands up in the air. "No, Carlos! I’m upset about everything! You’ve been gone for weeks, and I’m here, waiting, missing you, and you just—ugh!" She let out an exasperated sound and turned away from him.

Carlos watched her, realization starting to dawn. This wasn’t about the painting. She was missing him—really missing him—and all of this was her way of expressing it. But before he could respond, she whirled back around.

"And another thing!" she continued, her tone rising again. "Why do you leave your laundry in the same pile? I’m not your maid, Carlos. I’m not here to pick up after you every time you walk through the door. You could at least—"

"Y/N," Carlos interrupted, trying not to smile. "Mi vida, you’re yelling about laundry now?"

"Yes! And the way you walk! You just stomp around like you don’t even care that people live here too!" She was pacing now, angry tears threatening to spill. "It’s like you come back and nothing changes, and you don’t care about the things that matter to me, and—"

Carlos stepped forward, his hands reaching out to gently hold her arms. "Y/N, stop," he said softly, finally understanding.

She paused, glaring up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to rein in her emotions. "What?" she muttered, still angry but now starting to feel embarrassed.

"You’re not mad about the painting or the laundry," Carlos said, his voice calm, his eyes soft. "You’re mad because you missed me."

Y/N’s lip trembled, and she looked away, her anger flickering. "No. I mean… maybe. But—"

"You missed me, and instead of saying that, you’re picking fights about silly things," Carlos continued, his tone playful now. "The painting? Really, cariño?"

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she crossed her arms again. "Well, it is crooked," she grumbled, her voice softer now.

Carlos chuckled, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You could’ve just said you missed me. I would’ve held you and kissed you right away instead of talking about laundry and crooked paintings."

She huffed, her walls finally coming down as she leaned into him. "I didn’t want to sound clingy," she mumbled into his chest, her arms sliding around his back.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tighter. "You could never be clingy. I missed you too, Y/N. So much."

She looked up at him, still trying to hold on to some of her frustration. "Well, I was alone for three whole races. You could’ve texted me more."

Carlos grinned, his eyes shining with affection. "You know I’m always busy on race weekends. But I’ll make it up to you. How about I fix the painting, do the laundry, and then we spend the rest of the day together?"

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "And no more stomping around the house?"

Carlos laughed. "No more stomping. I promise."

Finally, Y/N let herself smile, her anger melting away as she rested her head on his chest. "Okay. But the painting better be straight."

Carlos chuckled again and kissed her softly. "Whatever you say, mi amor. Whatever you say."

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yuvany · 6 months ago

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# STRAWBERRY WEEK``

๋࣭ ⭑ 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 with a partner on her period ♤

OT7 enhypen x female readerˏˋ ´ˎ˗ GENRE / WARNING(S) :: fluff + cramps + periods + kissing + skinship + est relationship + not proofread + lazy written. % WC : 1027 𝜗𝜚 CHECK BOX !!

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 ━

You groan annoyingly as you exit the bathroom, and Heeseung who was nearby caught that. He got out of his chair, and made his way to your room, seeing you by your drawer. He tries to peek, but you manage to turn around before he does. "What is it, Hee?" You ask, sounding exhausted. "Just curious what you're up to." He says, and you walk around him with a hand in your pocket, making your way inside the bathroom again. "No need to follow me around, you know." You shut the door in his face, and Heeseung walks back to the living room, saddened. As you walk out again, feeling slightly refreshed, you realised how harshly you acted towards your boyfriend, and walked over to him. "I'm sorry, baby." You crawl into his arms, and he hugs you close, handing you a bowl of fruits with chocolate dip on the side. "It's your period right? I forgive you, sweetheart." In return, you kiss him on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 ━

Noticed something was bothering you even before you told him. "Baby, are you feeling okay?" He asked, his fingers finding your ear as he combs stands of your hair to the side. Jay looks at you lovingly, though you just feel aggravated. "No, I'm not." Your cramps have been acting up, painfully spiking your abdomen, and you feel slightly bad for Jay when your voice comes out harsher than expected. He is slightly taken aback, but still confronts you. "Is it your period?" He throws his guess based on the period tracker installed on his phone, and you lean your head against his chest, nodding as he pats your back. "Hmm, let me make something nice for you." Jay hums and kisses your forehead, and guides the two of you to the kitchen, letting you hang onto him like a baby koala to its mother. Jay also asks if he needs to buy you more pads, overall the ideal person to have by your side.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗬𝗨𝗡 ━

He saw you twisting and turning on the carpet, so he hunched down beside you with a questioning look. "My love, what's going on?" His voice sounded concerned. You look up at him while laying on your back. "These cramps, they won't stop." You painfully explained as you return to finding yourself in weird formations. With no hesitation Jake pulled you up, and sat you in between his legs, his palms finding the area beneath your stomach to apply some warmth. He had seen it somewhere before and wanted to try it out. "Does it feel better?" He asked, and you hummed in reply, "Definitely. Thank you baby." You let your hands rest above his as he presses a kiss to your temple. He will probably be the type to say, "If I could, I'd take your pain so you won't have to struggle," but the way he says it is so genuine, and filled with sincerity.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉 ━

"I feel disgusting" You mutter as you walk into the room, standing by the door frame feeling awfully aware of yourself. Sunghoon looks up from his book and arches an eyebrow. "Hmm? Why's that, angel?" You sit on the edge of the bed, and Sunghoon does as well. "I just feel weird, like every part of my body is itchy." You explain as best as you could, and he listens intently, his fingers massaging your scalp. "I hate periods!" You exclaimed at last, and Sunghoon nods his head. "Stay here." He says and walks out of the room after leaving a kiss on your forehead. You make yourself comfortable as you wait for him, and he returns after a couple of minutes with a tray of your favourite snacks and a warm glass of water. This time you look up at him with an arched eyebrow, and he notices it. "This always helped my sister."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 ━

Sunoo and you were watching a movie, unfortunately it was a rather emotional one, and you started sobbing in the middle of it. Sunoo who sat beside you with his arm over you, turned to you worriedly. "Dear, what happened?!" He asked, his voice filled with shock. You explain what went through your mind when the scene played in the movie, and he listens. "It's just that I feel bad for that kid who he kidnapped." You sob, and Sunoo rubs your back. "Really?" "Yeah, I wonder how his parents feel," you dry your tears with your sleeve before starting the previously paused movie. Sunoo is dumbfounded by this and looks between you and the screen, then he remembered the date. It's been a couple of days now since you started your period.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 ━

"woni, these cramps are killing me." You complain, and slump onto his bed while laying on your stomach. Jungwon who was occupied by his phone, looked at you worriedly, concerned at how much your were complaining, and even more so after he heard how much they actually hurt, being compared to a heart attack. "Come here, sweetie." He cooed, his arms wide open for you crawl in and cuddle with him, fitting like two puzzle pieces. Right as you were about to do so, Jungwon got up and told you to wait, which made you impatient, so you just laid there on your side silently, waiting for your boyfriend to return. Not long after, he returned with a heating pad and your favourite snacks. "Sorry, baby, had to get these first."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 ━

He notices how much water you're drinking and decides to question you about it. "Babe, why are you drinking so much water?" Your hand held onto the glass filled with water, half way up until it reached your lips, "I saw online that this will make my period shorter." Rik rose an eyebrow at how atrocious it sounded, but shrugged. "Is it working?" "I don't know." You chugged down the last glass of water, and added, "Doubt it though." "I heard it helps with cramps though," Riki said, approaching you as he pulls you into a hug. "Now that you mentioned it, it kind of did work," you said shockingly, and hugged him back, letting his warmth radiate on you.

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